Pinkerton. Pinkerton. Pinkerton. Where the hell did I know that name?
I knew I’d heard it before, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember where. Mila chuckled next to me.
“Guy is pretty sure of himself, babe,” she said dryly, looking him up and down.
Mila and I didn’t exactly have an easy go of trusting others. We were trying our damndest just to trust one another in this relationship we’d agreed upon. Daily, I had to press down the desire to second-guess every decision either of us made because I wanted us to work. So far, I’d never been happier, but having two driven individuals, both used to being alone and so set in their ways, trying to be one half of a whole wasn’t easy. It took hard work, and the results to date had far outweighed any of the downsides.
The man pulled out a shiny black card with raised metallic blue lettering. Blue Lake Entertainment. James Pinkerton, Executive Producer.
Holy shit.
“Uh…”
“I see you now understand who I am and where I come from. I’ve been watching you. Three times now. You have a great voice, an interesting grunge look, and you play well. You’re a bit old to be entering the industry this late in the game, but I’m good at my job. I can make you everything you want to be and more.”
My heart stopped. Just stopped beating. Everything I’d ever hoped for had happened. Blue Lake Entertainment was the biggest record label in music today. Everything they touched turned to gold and every artist they took on went platinum. They were the dream makers.
“I’m, uh, gonna dance while you talk okay?” Mila said, patting my arm.
“Yeah, sure, okay.” I watched her go and then turned so that I could keep my eye on her and speak to the executive.
“Hot piece of ass. You share that tail?” Pinkerton’s smarmy tone made my hackles rise in spite of my excitement.
I shook it off and held my hands in front of me. “No, man. That’s my woman.”
“Oh, well…” he huffed, “not for long. You’re about to get so much tail on the road you’ll be up to your eyeballs in pussy every day of the week.”
I cringed. “Not likely. I’m happy with what’s mine.”
He laughed and watched Mila shake her ass on the dance floor.
“So, what is it that you’re interested in?”
Pinkerton rubbed his palms together, his eyes still on my girl and not on me, nor was his attention focused on the conversation we were having, though he still answered. “Everything. You’ll work for Blue Lake Entertainment exclusively. Go where we want you to go. Sing what we want you to sing. Wear what we want you to wear, and together we’ll make millions.” Eventually his eyes flicked back to me. “You dig?”
A sour taste hit my mouth. “Not really. Sing what you want me to sing? I have my own music.”
He laughed hard. “Nobody writes their own music anymore. Besides, your songs are alternative. I’m going to make you into a pop star. By the way, can you dance?”
I cringed. “Dance?”
His eyes once more were not on me but glued to Mila’s ass. Admittedly, it was a mighty fine ass, but he also knew she was mine. Typically, when a guy knew a girl was off limits, he reacted by not continuing to eye-fuck her. This suit-wearing, needle-dick had not apparently learned that social grace.
I clenched my jaw, trying to breathe through the anger boiling just under the surface when I saw a man approach Mila on the dance floor. His hands went to her hips in a proprietary way, and she pulled away and turned around. I took a step toward her, but Mr. Pinkerton’s arm came out and stopped me from progressing.
“Last thing you need for your image is a bar brawl. Wouldn’t look good for my newly signed talent.” He emphasized the signed part even though nothing had gotten that far.
I ground my teeth so hard I could hear them inside my head. I grabbed his arm and pushed it down. “Not everything ends in a fight. Excuse me while I tend to my woman.”
Mila was struggling with the guy grabbing at her waist, attempting to rub up her body. I rushed to him and shoved him away from her. “Dude, get your fucking hands off her.”
The dude laughed. “Don’t worry, guy. It’s okay. I’ve had my hands and mouth all over this woman. Just a couple of months ago, right, sweetie? You sucked me off so good.”
Mila frowned and looked away.
Another man wearing a cowboy hat standing near the dance floor stepped in. “This your woman or yours? Because I’ve had her, too. Yeah, what’s your name? Chelsi or something.”
“Mila,” I said, looking at her with my hand still out to the handsy fucker at my right.
“Mila?” the other guy said, shaking his head no. “That was not her name when I was fucking her the month before last, either. Actually had her a couple times, months in between, but she couldn’t remember my name the first time, so I figured why bring it up. Shit, I’ll bet every guy in here has had a go. Definitely hot in the sack and sucks dick like a Hoover!” the big cowboy-looking man said.
That was all it took for me to lose my mind. I pulled my arm back and crashed my fist into cowboy hat’s face.
His head jerked back unnaturally before he fell back a few steps.
“Atlas, no!” Mila screamed.
That’s when the handsy fucker came at me, shoving me to the ground. I popped up and barreled into him like a linebacker knocking him into a table. By this time, cowboy hat had gotten back up and wanted his own go.
“Let’s go, partner…” He gestured in a come-hither move.
“No! No! Please stop!” Mila jumped in front of me.
I growled, “Back up. No one talks about you like that. No one!”
“Even if it’s true?” she screamed in my face. “I fucked both of them. I barely remember, but I did before I met you.”
“Told you, man. She’s a whore.” The handsy guy rubbed at his jaw.
At this point, Jack, the owner, was right in the middle of our circle with her burly black security guard who could bench lift about a million pounds on each arm. “Break this shit up. Now. You and you”—she pointed to the cowboy and handsy—“out. And don’t come back. You’re blacklisted.”
She then turned to me. “Atlas, I don’t even know what to say,” Jack whispered, her face set in a grimace. “You of all people know better. No fighting in my bar. It’s a hard-and-fast rule. The one rule you don’t fucking break! Now get out of here. Both of you.”
“What about my set?” I grated through my teeth.
“I think you’ve given the crowd enough entertainment for the night, don’t you? I’ll call you if, IF I’m going to have you back. You know better.” She shook her head again as if she was more depressed about kicking me out than I possibly could be. “Fuckin’ best gig I had. Christ!” she finished, threw a towel over her shoulder, and went back to the bar.
I turned around and walked toward the stage. James Pinkerton stood there with a scowl. “Lose my card. Told you not to interfere. Blue Lake Entertainment doesn’t hire losers with control issues. We’re in control.”
Then he walked off, my dreams of working with the biggest label of all time a whisper in the wind.
Mila didn’t say anything to me, but followed me silently as I gathered my things and headed for the exit.
The car ride was excruciating. All I could think about was how fucking stupid I had been to think I was special to her. She’d had two guys in her bed not long before we got together. What kind of woman does that? Shit!
When we arrived at her house, I pulled up to the curb. I had no intention of coming in. I hadn’t said a word to her because I didn’t know what to say. In one single night, I’d gotten in a bar fight, ruined my chances of ever working for Blue Lake Entertainment, my dream label, and probably lost my highest paying gig, all because I’d defended a woman who fucked everything with a hard cock.
She opened the door and turned sideways to look at me before getting out.
I shook my head and put my hand up. “Go,” I growled.
/> “I’m sorry, Atlas. Can we please talk about this? Those men, they were before you.” Her voice was a broken mess of tears.
“Yeah, and you didn’t even recognize two men that you opened your legs for. What’s that say about me? You gonna remember down the road when you scrape me off, too?” I clenched my teeth and ground out, “I’m sorry I ever believed you loved me. I’m sorry I ever thought I could love a woman. You made me lose everything tonight. Everything! All because you couldn’t keep your legs closed.” I roared, “Now Get. The Fuck. Out.”
I didn’t even recognize my voice as she got out of the car, tears streaming down her pretty face. She was pretty even when she cried. Once the door was shut, she leaned into the open window. I gripped the wheel so hard I thought my knuckles would crack.
“You said you’d never abandon me,” she whispered.
Mila’s tone was so filled with remorse I had to choke down my own tears and fill my mind with the anger of what occurred that evening.
“Yeah, and I thought our relationship wouldn’t ruin my life. We were both wrong,” I managed through clenched teeth.
I had to go. I just had to get the fuck out of there, away from her, away from heartache, loss, and everything she represented. So I revved the engine until she removed her hands, and I sped away, leaving my heart at the curb in front of her house.
Chapter Nineteen
When a person’s solar plexus chakra is in alignment, they are not only very ambitious, but also self-aware, and they naturally evoke an energetic strength that is desirable and magnetic. This person has a deep value to those in their life that can keep their word and fulfill responsibilities and obligations without their interference. Connecting with someone with a fully engaged manipura is like standing next to a living, breathing power source.
ATLAS
They said when a person went from a dry state such as California and enters a humid state, such as Hawaii, they acclimated quickly. I did not find that statement to be true. Every breath I’d taken felt as though I was breathing under water. And the heat, wet heat…Jesus. Nothing like back home. In California, it was hot. In the dead of summer, it could be absolutely brutal. At least in the Valley it was. In the Bay, I appreciated the chill off the ocean, so it was never too hot and never too humid. Hawaii, though warm, made you sweat, and that sweat did not dry. Ever. I felt perpetually misty, either from the random bouts of rain that would fall, or the dewiness settling on my skin from the heat or humidity.
Hawaii was beautiful and all, but just like the song, I left my heart in San Francisco. Literally. I hadn’t talked to Mila in two weeks. I’d left her at that curb and spent the last two weeks fucking off and figuring out what the hell I was going to do with my life. One thing I did was take the money my father left me and gave half of it to my mother. When I handed her a check for a hundred and thirty thousand dollars, she started crying. Big heaving sobs. She thought I’d signed a music deal and hit it big. Which I had, but not in the way she thought.
Last week, I also met with Silas McKnight. The guy in person was, by far, the coolest dude. He had just enough hair that you knew he cut it that short on purpose, not because he was bald or had a receding hair line. He rocked dark jeans with a white T-shirt and a black corduroy blazer that, on him, looked sharp and expensive yet still casual. He sat me down and made me a different offer than I’d ever expected.
* * *
“Thanks for coming, Atlas.”
I nodded. “Glad to be here. Thanks for the extra week on the songs. I was in a bit of a funk that I had to work through.”
Silas rubbed at his chin. “And did you work through it?”
“Yeah, by writing those songs.” I gestured to the written words I’d handed him so that he’d have a copy of what I’d worked on. Six songs in total. Three I’d had, including “Maybe Someday,” “Probably Never,” a couple others he’d heard at Harmony Jack’s, and the three additional tunes he asked for where I’d included the most precious one I’d simply named “Wildcat.”
Silas had read and heard the songs prior to my arrival. He wanted to hear them in advance of our meeting, so I’d recorded them using my acoustic guitar, singing a cappella on my cheapo player, and sent them via e-mail.
“So, I’m sure you think you know why you’re here, but man, I need to be up front with you. I have a different reason than you probably imagine.”
I frowned and leaned my elbows on my knees, clasped my hands in front of me, and rested my chin on them. “Okay, shoot. Why am I here?”
Silas sat back and put his ankle up on his knee. “You’re a brilliant song writer.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“But I’m not going to sign you as a musical artist.”
My heart plummeted. This was it. My last chance to make something of my music career. I’d already fucked up the Blue Lake Entertainment, though the more I’d thought about it, the less likely I would have wanted to truly work with them anyway. They just wanted to change me.
“Okay then, help me understand why you couldn’t just deliver that news over the phone.” My tone was flat and lacked any emotion. Just like my heart over the last week. Emotionless.
Silas ran a finger along his bottom lip. “I want to make you a different offer.”
I pushed up and pressed my palms down my denim-clad thighs. “Such as?”
“Song writer and producer.”
I blinked and then blinked again, trying to wipe away any remaining shock that blasted my vision completely. “Excuse me?”
“Atlas, bro, your songs are deep. Intense. Make people feel things. Unfortunately, you have shit for stage presence. You can’t dance. And sorry to say, brother, your voice cracks and becomes pitchy after the second set.”
Boom! Nothing like getting smashed between the truth and reality. I knew my shoulders sagged and all the wind left my sails. “But you want me to write for you?”
He nodded. “I know talent when I see it. Part of what makes Knight & Day Productions so good is that we know how to work with people on using their best assets to come together as a team, building greatness. I see you writing songs and honing new talent into something great, something Knight & Day could be proud of.”
“Songwriter and producer. Man, I like the sound of that.” I didn’t even try to hide the awe in my tone.
Silas grinned wickedly. “Me, too. Also comes with your own sound room. You can work from home as much as you like, when you’re not working with the talent, that is. You can help me scout out talent; you’ll receive a six-figure salary with bonuses if your songs hit lists, full medical, dental, retirement, and all that jazz. We take care of people because when we’ve got skill like yours, we want to keep you happy.”
“Holy shit. Six figures?”
“To start, you’ll be making a hundred and seventy-five a year and then you’ve got the bonuses to look forward to. I believe in you, and I’m going to put my money where my mouth is.”
“Wow, um, yeah you are.”
“Take some time to think about it.”
I shook my head. “Don’t need it. This was my end goal, man. I planned on singing and playing music until I could get in with a company and do what I love best. Create music. The stage is great, and it’s fun, but I want a family one day in the not-too-distant future. Besides, like you said, I can’t dance, my voice cracks, and I’m pitchy.”
Silas chuckled and held out his hand. “Too true. Welcome to the family, brother.”
* * *
The gallery was yellow, and an ocean was painted on the entire back side of it where I parked my rental. As much as I wanted to dread this moment, I didn’t. I hadn’t seen my father in twenty years. Knowing he’d been living the good life on an island while my mom and I barely made ends meet destroyed any emotion other than anger, the anger I held onto as I walked through the gallery. The sales associate, who I found out was his current woman or “wahine” in Hawaiian, told me that Kenny was out soaking up the sun on the beach in
the back of the gallery, which was conveniently attached to their home.
I thanked the pretty woman. She seemed younger than my mom, but still was an appropriate age for a man my dad’s age. Then again, who knew? Mom had wrinkles on top of her wrinkles from having to live a harder life than she should have.
Once I’d made my way through the gallery to the sliding glass doors, I saw an umbrella plopped into the sand around a hundred or so feet out in the distance. A pair of feet stuck out from the view.
With a heavy heart bristling with anger, I tromped through the sand toward the sunbather. When I arrived, I stood looking at my father. He’d aged a lot. Twenty years would do that to a person. Nevertheless, he was tan and thin, with a sculpted chest and arms, a salt-and-pepper beard and matching curly hair. He was me, only twenty-five years older. I could easily imagine looking exactly like him when I was in my fifties.
“Hey, brah, you’re blocking my view,” my father said.
I stood there unmoving, just taking in all that was my father. Then I removed my glasses and crossed my arms over my chest.
He sat up and pushed his glasses up into his hairline. The same eyes as I’d seen in the mirror every day of my life stared back at me. It was funny how you didn’t remember things like that until you came face-to-face with it again.
“Well I’ll be damned. You finally came,” he said, awe and excitement clear in his tone.
I squinted. “I finally came? That’s what you have to say to me?”
He huffed. “Took you long enough. What’s it been, twenty years?” He sat back and lifted a beer to his lips and sucked a slug back. “I gave you that key forever ago.”
He’d given me the key… “What? Are you for real?”
“’Course I am. I’m your old man. Now pull up a chair, son.” He gestured to the lounger next to him.
He could not be for real. “You left me. Us. Mom and me. Twenty years ago, and you want me to just pull up a chair?”
My father frowned and sighed. “I’m taking it you didn’t get the money until now?”
Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three Page 22