Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  I turn to Malcom. “Could we speak in private?”

  “Nonsense,” Malcom says, waving a dismissive hand. “It will be good to have Ms. Miles’s input. She is the star, after all.”

  “Your star is beyond my help.”

  Hannah gasps and Malcom bristles.

  “I can’t believe you would say that,” she says, a hand pressed demurely to her chest. After everything you’ve put me through.”

  “What I’ve put you through?”

  She turns back to Malcom. “He blames me for the bad press he’s been getting.”

  I shake my head and laugh. “Bad press? That is the least of the trouble you’ve caused.”

  Malcom’s mouth flattens into a firm line. “There’s no reason we can’t work this out between us. Now, I know you too have had issues in the past—”

  “No, my issues with her are very much in the present.”

  “Be that as it may, I believe that things can be resolved in a manner benefiting us all.”

  “No,” I tell him.

  “I’m sorry?” his brows pull in, and he jerks his head back.

  “Absolutely not. I’m done, Malcom. Done with her deceit and manipulation, done with your incentives. I. Am. Done.”

  A wicked grin slides across his face with just a hint of something else, pride maybe. “Need I remind you, son, you are under contract?”

  The double doors swing open wide, and Cole strolls in, his three-piece suit as meticulous as ever. “I believe I can help with that.” He gives me a wink as he strides to where his father sits fuming.

  “Cole? What are you…,” Malcom starts.

  “See, when Ezra relayed Hannah’s villainous plot...” he turns to Hannah with a pout. “You should know, darling, that was a classic villain mistake. Never reveal your plan. If you’d brushed up on your Bond films, perhaps you would have known.”

  “What are you blathering about?” Malcom sneers.

  “Well, our Hannah’s little slip of the tongue made me realize that if she put you up to offering Ezra what he most desired, then there had to be something in it for you. So, I hired a private investigator.” He tosses something that looks like a black box into the air, catching it in his hand. “Technology is an amazing thing. Did you know that they can hide cameras in things like a cell phone charger? It’s clever, really. Something so commonplace would be easily overlooked. Even, say in a hotel room in Beverly Hills.”

  Malcom’s face pales, and Hannah’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

  Cole smiles. “Oh, you two have been very naughty, haven’t you?” he asks, gesturing between them.

  My frown deepens as I begin to put two and two together. I clench my jaw as the pieces fall into place.

  Hannah sneers, “You’re bluffing.”

  “Am I? You see, Princess, given my father’s current marital status and the fact that the primary investor in Dionysus just happens to be the current Mrs. Silenus’s rich daddy, I don’t think either of them would be pleased should this little video go public.”

  Malcom swallows and looks up at his son. “What do you want?”

  “Oh, no, this isn’t about me.” Cole turns, walking over to me and dropping the cell phone charger in my hand. He raises a brow and smirks at me.

  I square my shoulders and face the enemy head-on. “Release my contract.”

  “Done,” he responds without a moment’s hesitation. I’m guessing the loss of his father-in-law’s money would be a bigger hit to the label then we thought.

  Hannah scoffs. “Are you kidding?” she laughs. “Malcom, you can’t possibly—.”

  He holds up his hand to silence her. She huffs and slumps back in her seat. His eyes narrow as he glances at Cole then back to me. “I underestimated you two.”

  “Perhaps, but I doubt you’ll make that mistake again,” Cole says

  He chuckles. “You’re right about that, son. Right, well, I’ll have the paperwork drawn up immediately.” He offers me a shake. “I wish you the best of luck, Ezra.”

  And just like that, it’s over. No arguments, no threats, and I might be mistaken, but I think I see a glimmer of pride in the older man’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, shaking his hand while tucking the charger into my pocket. “You’ll get this after the paperwork is signed.”

  “Fair enough. If there is nothing else, gentlemen,” he says, gesturing toward the exit.

  An idea hits me. It’s a bit risky, but the payoff could be huge if it works out. “Wait,” I say, “there’s one other thing.”

  In the elevator, I take the charger from my pocket and look it over. It looks like every other charger block I’ve seen.

  Turning to Cole, I hold up the charger to him. “How did you manage to get this in their hotel room?”

  He chuckles and takes it from my hand. “That’s the thing. I didn’t.”

  My eyes go wide. “What? You were bluffing?”

  He shrugs. “Not entirely. The investigator I hired provided plenty of evidence they were having an affair, just not on tape.” He looks down at the charger, turning it over in his hand. “I thought this added a certain dramatic flair.”

  I shake my head. “Now what?”

  He hands me back the charger. “That, my friend, is entirely up to you.”

  Chapter 26

  Orelia

  On my way into the studio, I get a text from Ezra with an address and a note.

  Ezra: Can you meet me here at six?

  Me: Why are you texting me? I’m right outside.

  Smiling and shaking my head, I open the door, but Ezra isn’t here. Instead, a blonde guy with massive shoulders and a bright orange beard sits behind the board. I glance up at the studio number to be sure I’m in the right place.

  “Where’s Ezra?”

  The big guy shrugs. “I heard he was fired.”

  “Fired? Why?”

  Another shrug, then he turns back to the board, ignoring me.

  I frown down at my phone, my heart sinking as I type out a text. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t think I can handle any more surprises.

  Me: What’s going on? They’re saying you were fired.

  The dots jump on the screen as he responds. I stare at them as I move back into the hallway, not watching where I’m going. I stop short, gasping as I nearly collide with Jeanne carrying a box of what looks like personal items from her desk.

  “Orelia, oh, my God, I’m sorry,” she says.

  “It was my fault,” I tell her, waving her off. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. What’s all this?”

  “I was let go.”

  My eyes widen. “You were what? Why?”

  “Well, with Cole and Ezra gone, I guess there’s no point keeping me around.”

  I shake my head, trying to make sense of what is happening here. “Wait, Cole’s gone too?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “Didn’t Ezra tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Her eyes go sad. “Ezra and Cole quit this morning.”

  “They what?”

  “They’re gone.” She leans into me. “And from what I hear, Malcom is cleaning house. He dropped two artists this morning.”

  “Who?” I ask her as my throat tightens.

  She lifts a shoulder and shifts the box in her arms. “No clue.” She takes a deep breath.

  My phone lights up with an incoming call, and we both glance down as the number from Malcom’s office scrolls across the screen.

  Jeanne’s lips twitch. “You should probably get that.”

  I nod and press the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon Ms. Carlisle. Mr. Silenus would like to see you in his office as soon as possible,” his secretary’s bubbly voice says.

  “Um, okay,” I stutter. “I’m just downstairs.”

  “Great, I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”

  She hangs up without another word, and I slowly lower the phone from my ear and look up to meet Jeanne
’s eyes. “Malcom wants to see me.”

  She winces. “Oh girl, that can’t be good.”

  Tears well in my eyes as my phone lights with a response from Ezra.

  Ezra: I’ll explain everything tonight.

  Jeanne offers me a sympathetic smile. “I better get going,” she says, “Got a long night of drinking and job hunting ahead of me.” She shifts her box to one arm and squeezes my shoulder. “Good luck, Orelia.”

  I nod. “You too.”

  The Uber drops me in front of a rundown storefront in Venice Beach with my suitcase and my guitar.

  After Malcom informed me I was being released from my contract, he threw in the final knockout blow that since I was no longer a Dionysus recording artist, they would no longer be paying for my accommodations in L.A.

  Left with no choice and my dreams falling apart at the seams, I packed my bags, checked out of my hotel, and headed to the address Ezra had given me, praying that he had some sort of plan.

  I look up at the rusted-out sign over the door. The letters are faded, dark, dirty lines marked where neon tubing had once illuminated the marquee that read “Bass Note Cafe.”

  I bite my lip, trying the door. It swings open, and I head inside, dragging my suitcase behind me. The lobby looks like a relic from the sixties. There’s a Formica lunch counter that runs the length of one side, cracked vinyl stools are clustered near one end, and colored flyers for various bands I’ve never heard of are pinned to the back wall.

  Parquet flooring is laid out in a diamond pattern. Dust dances and swirls in the bars of light that beam in from the large display windows.

  Ezra pushes in through a swinging door in the back of the room, his smile bright as he heads toward me, taking my guitar and suitcase from my hands.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “What do you think?” he asks, ignoring my question. “It’s cool, right?”

  I scrunch my nose. “It’s got character, but what is this place?”

  His smile widens, and he sets my suitcase on the floor beside my guitar. He takes my hands in his and meets my eyes. “This is Bass Note Café. It was a soda fountain in the forties then converted to a recording studio in the seventies. Some of the best musicians from around the world have played here. Can you feel it, Orelia? I know it doesn’t look like much now, but there is magic in these walls, baby. Just think of the music we can make in a place like this.”

  “I don’t understand, Ezra. Malcom released my contract. They told me you and Cole left Dionysus. Everything is falling apart, and I…”

  His lips crash against mine, his fingers holding tight to the back of my neck as he kisses me. He deepens the kiss, pulling me against his body, and I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging to him. He is all that is left for me here in L.A. and all that I need.

  When he breaks the kiss, he wraps his arms around my back. “Do you trust me?” he whispers.

  My head jerks back, and I watch him closely. “You know I do.”

  He smiles and brushes a soft kiss over my lips. “Good.”

  Releasing his hold on me, he reaches down and grabs my guitar, then takes my hand and leads me through the swinging door into a studio set up in the back. The ceilings are tall, the walls lined with fabric panels that are faded and tattered with time.

  Dropping to his knees, he flips the lid of my guitar case and gently lifts the old acoustic, holding it out to me. “Play something,” he says.

  “Ezra, will you just tell me what’s happening?” I object.

  “Trust me. Just play me something.”

  Reluctantly, I take the guitar and slip the strap over my head. I strum a C chord. The sound fills the room as the natural acoustics wrap around us, making the cord seem to build on its own. My eyes widen, and I switch to A minor. The simple chord sounds like an opus in the wide space. I can’t help the grin that lights my face as I strum another chord.

  “You hear it?” he asks.

  “It’s incredible, but…”

  He cuts me off. “I bought it. You are looking at the new home of Kingdom Records.”

  “You—you,” I stutter. “But how?”

  He shrugs. “I had some money saved, I’d invested wisely over the years, and then I sold off some assets for the capital.”

  “What assets?”

  He ducks his head. “The beach house. I put my house here on the market as well.”

  I gasp. “You sold your beach house? Ezra, you love that house. And where are you going to live.”

  He steps forward, taking my face between his hands. “It was just a house, Orelia. I love you. I want to build this place together. You and me. Just think, no one to tell us who to sign or what to record. It will be our music done our way. There is an apartment upstairs. It’s small, only one bedroom and it’s going to need a lot of work, but we can do it...together.”

  “But what about your contract with Dionysus? Isn’t there some competition clause or something?”

  He pulls me closer. “You don’t have to worry about that. Malcom let me out of my contract, no strings attached.”

  “But how?” I ask, the dots aren’t connecting correctly.

  “Let’s just say Cole took a gamble, and it paid off.” He waves off the comment. “It doesn’t matter. What do you say? Do you want to sign on as the first Kingdom Records recording artist?”

  I giggle, tears filling my eyes. “I don’t know, I was dropped by my last label, are you sure you still want me?”

  “Always,” he responds, leaning in for a kiss.

  I relax into his touch, his taste, then break the connection with a shove to his chest. “Wait, did you have something to do with Malcom dropping me?”

  He looks a little sheepish, staring at me beneath dark lashes. “Cole’s not the only gambler. Are you mad?”

  I shake my head. “No, but you should have talked to me first.” I shove at him again, playfully this time.

  “I’m sorry, baby. Everything happened pretty quickly.”

  “So, we’re doing this?” I ask.

  “You and me. We’re doing this.”

  He kisses me again, and I wrap my arms around his neck, lifting up on my tiptoes as he pulls me flush against his body.

  Nothing about the future is certain. Hell, I don’t even know where I’m going to sleep tonight, but I can tell you one thing for sure, it will be in the arms of the man I love.

  Epilogue

  Ezra

  One year later

  The lights flicker as Jamie Durant takes center stage with Sarah Mitchell. He smiles for the camera, and I have to admit the dude’s not so bad. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still watching him like a hawk, but he’s been a good friend to my girl, so I don’t completely hate the guy.

  “Hey, Jamie,” Sarah says into the mic, “did you ever think when you were auditioning for American Icon that one day, you would be standing on stage at the Grammy’s.”

  The audience roars with applause and Orelia cups her hands around her mouth, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  Jamie chuckles. “Not in my wildest dreams, Sarah. I’m honored just to be standing here with you tonight, let alone presenting the award for album of the year.”

  The applause rises once again, and I let out a whistle. Orelia’s eyes snap to mine, and I give her a wink.

  “What do you say we announce the nominees?” She unfolds the envelope in her hand. “And the nominees for album of the year are Wes Brooklyn ‘She Ain’t no Good.’” The claps and cheers rise to a deafening pitch. “Monday Circle for ‘Things I Used to Know’, Georgia Kiefer ‘Rainbow’, Hank Mandel ‘Boots up High.’”

  Jamie steps up, reading the rest of the names. “Chris Steeps ‘Mountains to Move’, Hand Over Fist for ‘Greenhouse Blues’, Willow Masters ‘Colors of Me.’” He pauses, a smile lighting his face. “And Orelia Carlisle for ‘Touch of Gold.’”

  I look over at Orelia, who turns a deep shade of crimson as she waves at the camera poised to
catch her reaction when the winner is announced. I take her hand in both of mine and twirl her engagement ring nervously around her finger.

  She squeezes my hand, and I freeze as Sarah speaks the words both anticipated and feared by everyone in this stadium. “And the album of the year goes to…”

  The dramatic pause seems to last for years before Jamie and Sarah scream into the mic together, “Touch of Gold, Orelia Carlisle!”

  I’m on my feet, pulling her with me as the crowd erupts in a cacophony of sound. I kiss her hard on her lips, wiping the tears of joy from her cheeks as the camera catches it all for the viewers at home.

  Reluctantly, I release her as she steps into the aisle, pausing to glance back at me. While technically, I’ve won as well since I produced the Grammy Award-winning album, I don’t go with her. This is her moment, her time to shine, and I couldn’t be more proud.

  She lifts the hem of her dress and carefully makes her way to where Jamie and Sarah wait with the golden gramophone statuette. Sarah hugs her tight, and Jamie lifts her off the ground, spinning her in a circle before setting her back on her feet. I’ll have to give him shit for that one later.

  She steps to the mic, looking down at the award in her hands, and with tears in her eyes, she speaks, “Thank you. I genuinely have to words no describe how honored I am. This time last year, I was bartending in a little dive in Boston called The Den.”

  I smile. I’m sure Liam and crew are losing their minds right now.

  “I was slinging drinks, singing my songs at open mic night, just praying that something, anything would happen, and one night, it did.” She chokes up a bit on the last part and tears of pride and elation well in my eyes.

  She exhales and shakes out her hands, laughing. “I said I wouldn’t cry on TV, but you were right, babe. Anyway, thank you to everyone at Kingdom Records and Bass Note. Thank you to my Dad for believing in me every step of the way. Thank you to my friends, my surrogate family, for all your support, even when I was still singing for my supper. Thank you to Malcom Silenus for dropping my contract so I could make this album my way.” A chuckle ripples through the crowd, and she soldiers on.