I slipped the headphones off. “Hey.”
“Sorry to interrupt. We’re confirmed for two-thirty with Brick House.”
“Good.”
“That’s in less than an hour. Just wanted to give you a heads up. I’ll get us set up about five minutes early. And if there’s anything you want to go over with me first, let me know?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She smiled and headed back out to the great room. I watched her go back to work at her laptop.
Shit. There was just something about her belief in me, the way she treated me, the way she talked to me… like I was somehow normal… that made me want to try harder.
I’d never felt like that around anyone except Gabe. Maybe Xander, on a good day on tour, onstage together; when I felt like we were in sync, like I was at my best and he wasn’t judging me. But that was it. My two best friends.
And her.
I got up and went out there, and sat down across from her, on one of the couches.
She looked up from her laptop.
“So what’s the purpose of this meeting?” I asked her.
“Uh, you didn’t give me an agenda. So… I’m not sure?” Her lips quirked.
“Venture a guess.”
“Well, Trey’s assistant mentioned something in her email about that memo he sent over to the band. You know, the one Ash tore up?” She gave me an amused, cringey look. “So, I’m guessing they want to go over that?”
“I called the meeting, though.”
“Right. So, you want to go over it? Are you planning to give them hell? Should I practice my poker face?”
“No. I wanted them to go ahead and assume that’s what I want to discuss. And it may come up, if Trey brings it up. But this conversation is to set the tone of our communication going forward. This is the first formal conversation we’re having since the band went into the studio. Contracts are all signed now, so it’ll be a different conversation than it was before. This is the part where we remind them we’ve got four artists in that studio and we’re not gonna piss all over that with whatever Trey Jones thinks will get the most likes on Instagram.”
She cocked her head at me, considering. “How do you mean?”
“Trey Jones is a pretty brilliant businessman. And he knows it. He also knows music. And the music business is a pretty different world than the world the band lives in, in the studio. The music business is where the music goes to be sold, or to die. And sadly, nowadays, it’s often a lot more about which artist has the biggest social media following, not which song is the best song.”
“Huh. That’s fucked.”
“Yeah. Well, if you haven’t heard, money makes the world go ’round.”
“I hate that that’s true. Ash is so talented. That’s all it should be about.”
“It is about that, but it’s complicated. We need the record company, just like they need us. We need to make sure Trey doesn’t see the band as disposable, though. I’ve had a lot of issues with record companies in the past, like so many musicians do. So I guess you’d say I’m cautiously optimistic that Trey might be a little different. Because he’s local, he knows the local scene and where these musicians are coming from. He’s good friends with Xander. But even so, it’s kind of a record company’s nature to take advantage of bands. They make their money off the artists’ work. That’s part of what the band has Brody for. To protect them. But when it comes to the creative, there’s all kinds of bullshit that comes into play.”
“Really? Even when you have a contract?”
“Definitely. For one thing, the record company can just shelve an album that you put your heart and soul into. If they don’t want to put it out there for whatever reason, they don’t. It happens to all kinds of bands. Even successful, established musicians. Albums just gathering dust on virtual shelves. Worse than that, a record company executive can totally butcher the creative process because they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. Because they’re business people, not musicians. Trey is a fan of music and he was a musician, casually, when he was young. Played in a few bands that didn’t really go anywhere. He’s got a great ear for talent, which is why he signed the Players. He knows who we’ve got in that studio. Hopefully this all works in our favor. He might listen better than other executives I’ve known, in theory. But when it comes to the money, at the end of the day, it’s hard to know if he’ll make the right choices.”
“What kind of choices?”
“Well, bottom line, if he thinks the album won’t sell or won’t make him look good, he could shelve it. Or release it but then not bother backing the band any further than that. Or drop them from the label. That could stop the career of a new band in their tracks. Even a new band made up of already established musicians.”
“Holy shit. I had no idea.”
“I mean, the Players would probably have room to bounce back. Other avenues. Ash and Matt probably have that kind of star power at this point. Xander, maybe. Summer, probably not on her own, at least not at the level she’d like to be. But together, they have a currency. Doors will open for them and for Brody. But we don’t want to see this door close. We don’t want to lose momentum. We also don’t want Trey or some A&R asshole from his company telling the band how to make music. It’s a delicate balance.”
“That’s what the conversation was about earlier, with the band? You don’t want them getting bad advice from Trey’s staff?”
“I don’t want them getting bad advice from anyone. And I don’t want them thinking they need to please anyone but themselves in that room, including the record company.”
“But… if the album doesn’t please the record company, then won’t that be a problem?”
I considered how to put it. “Here’s the thing, Taylor. If the Players make the album that’s in them, the one they really want to make, and do it from the heart, as cheesy as that may sound, that’s the album they’ll be happy with. And it’s more likely that that is the album that the record company, and everyone else, will end up loving, including the fans who buy the music. But maybe more importantly, it’s the album that will stand the test of time and when the band members look back in twenty years, they’ll still be proud of. Whether it’s a commercial success or not.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. But don’t you also want it to be a commercial success?”
“Of course. But the way I see it, money’s not the most important outcome. Neither is fame. I know the Players want it, but we can all make more money. This is a chance to make something original, and something that matters. That’s what they put this band together for. They might say they want to be rich and famous, and I’m sure they do, but what they really want is to make music they’re proud of. Music that they fucking love.”
“That sounds about right,” Taylor agreed. “Ash would probably be the first one to tell you he wants to be super famous. I’ve heard him basically say that. But everything he does says he wants to be respected. He wants to be known as a killer singer and songwriter, not just known.”
“So let’s make that known. Without being assholes about it.”
She laughed softly. “Is there a way to do that?”
“You and me, we’re gonna make sure Trey gets that message. That his role in this is hands off. He signed this band, he helped bring me in, and now he trusts us to do what we do.”
“You and me?”
“Yup.”
“You keep saying ‘we.’ And I’m not sure why.”
“Because you’re my assistant now, right? And, you know, my protégé.”
“Uh, protégé?” Her eyes sparked. Clearly she didn’t hate the idea, even if it confused the hell out of her.
“I don’t make a move without you,” I told her. “You’re a part of the Little Black Hole team now. And I expect you to make sure if I’m about to make a giant mistake, you’ll point it out to me.”
“Okay… I’m not sure I’m qualified for that—”
“Sure you ar
e. You love music. And I trust your judgment.”
“Cary, you’re making me sweat.”
“Good,” I said. “That means you care.”
Taylor studied me like she was looking for signs that I was joking. But I didn’t laugh.
“And that’s why you’re gonna call Liam right now,” I told her, “and get him to come pick us up, and we’re going down to Brick House Records in person to have this meeting face-to-face.”
Taylor stared at me, obviously stunned. But she didn’t question it. Because for whatever fucking reason, this woman believed in me.
“Okay,” she said.
“This is the only face-to-face meeting Trey is getting with me, so we need to make it count. And I’d like to make it fast.”
“Of course.” She grabbed her phone. “I’ll get Liam.”
“Good.” I got up.
“Should I change?”
I stopped in my tracks and looked down at her. Her jeans were dark gray, tight, with rips in the knees, and cut off above the ankle. Her asymmetrical, black T-shirt bared one shoulder and her turquoise bra strap. Her pink hair was up in a tidy top knot and her makeup was done.
“Why would you ever change?”
“Uh…”
“I’ll meet you at the front door in ten minutes.”
Liam couldn’t get a parking spot close enough to the door at BHR Tower, where the offices of Brick House Records were located, so he dropped us right at the door and Taylor and I walked in together, just the two of us.
You know, like two totally normal people.
It was a sleek office tower in the financial district with a small, cold lobby, and we didn’t see anyone except one man in business attire who came off an elevator and brushed past us.
We got into an elevator and Taylor pressed the button. As the elevator started to rise, she checked her phone. Meanwhile, my stomach sank into a low, tight knot. I forced myself to consciously keep breathing. Four in. Hold four. Four out. I crammed my fingers into my pockets so I didn’t start tapping them on anything in sight, and made myself visualize a non-disastrous outcome to this, where no one died in a fiery elevator shaft.
Like kissing Taylor’s neck while my cock slid inside her…
We could see each other in the mirrored walls of the elevator as we stood side-by-side. She hadn’t changed, but she’d put on a soft-pink velvet blazer before we left the house. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, as usual. I still had on my sunglasses and a flat cap, but maybe she knew I was looking at her.
“I talked to Trey’s assistant,” she told me. “Made it clear there’s to be no welcome wagon or lineup of people wanting to meet you. She’s assured me the coast is clear.”
“You really didn’t need to put on a blazer.”
“I couldn’t help it. I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be,” I said, as my own body vibrated with the weird unreality of this feeling. Was I seriously in an elevator in an office tower, walking into a business meeting?
I hadn’t done anything like this in years.
I wondered how many steps it was from my front door to Trey’s office.
Not many.
You can do this.
The elevator stopped on the ninth floor and a couple of women got on, chatting quietly. They didn’t really look at us. Taylor and I stood silently at the back of the elevator, which stopped again on the twelfth floor, and the women got out. When the elevator door closed behind them, I found Taylor staring at me in the mirror.
“What?” I said.
A smile ghosted over her lips. She looked up at the digital display, watching the numbers climb as we rose. “Nothing. You look like a rock star.”
I looked over at her. “So do you.”
She smiled at me. “Look, I’m just gonna ask you this once, because I don’t want to make a big deal out of it or make you nervous or treat you like a baby or something. But are you gonna be okay? Do you want to give me a signal or something if you need to leave?”
“If I need to leave, I’ll get up and walk out.”
“Okay. Then I’ll get up and leave with you.” She reached over and slipped her hand into mine.
My fingers twined with hers automatically. She held my hand as the numbers shot up.
Twenty-one… Twenty-two…
Our hands slid apart just as the doors cracked open on the top floor, the twenty-third. Taylor stepped out first and walked straight over to the low, curved wall that wrapped around the reception area as I hung back. No one was around but the woman seated there, tapping softly on a keyboard.
The only indications that this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill corporate office were the receptionist’s Primus t-shirt and the Dirty song that was playing quietly. Trey probably had it put on for Brody’s arrival.
I wondered if that meant Brody was already here.
The receptionist looked up with a generic smile as Taylor approached her desk. “Hello. We have an appointment with Trey Jones…”
The receptionist’s smile froze and she popped up out of her seat. Her eyes widened just enough to make it obvious that she knew exactly who I was, and maybe how fucking unusual it was that I was here.
“Of course. This way.” She directed us around the long, curved wall that led towards a waiting area, but we weren’t waiting. We followed her up the hall, past the floor-to-ceiling windows with an unobstructed view of Coal Harbour.
Trey Jones had done well for himself. Especially considering that when we’d met as teenagers, he’d been a wannabe rock star with not much actual musical talent of his own. Just a passion for music and money. And now he owned a successful record label. Brick House Records had turned out a number of charting musicians in recent years, mostly in hip-hop, rap and pop.
But his successes reached much farther than that.
Not only did the Brick House Records office inhabit the top two floors of BHR tower, but Trey Jones himself—or at least one of his holding companies—owned the tower. The man had a lot of diversity in his portfolio, so to speak. I was here to make sure the contract he’d signed with the Players, and this album, weren’t just another property.
In my world, music wasn’t just a product. If he planned to handle the Players’ album like it was just another investment to pad his portfolio, we were gonna have a problem.
Greed bred bad decisions in the studio.
But I was also here for Taylor. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve taken this meeting virtually and called it a day. I wouldn’t have even thought twice about it. I would’ve maybe even blown the whole thing off and relegated the conversation to email, depending on the day I was having.
But now I wanted to prove something to her, maybe. And to myself.
That I wasn’t an antisocial freak, incapable of taking a business meeting with my peers.
That I chose to do all my business from my home studio.
And now, I chose this in-person meeting.
I was in control.
And maybe, just maybe, I even deserved all that admiration and awe Taylor gave me earlier today when we talked about my work. Because deep down, I wasn’t so sure.
I heard the receptionist offering her beverages as I trailed them to another small reception area outside an office door. Taylor declined the drink offer, maybe knowing I didn’t plan to have time for that. The receptionist vanished back down the hall, leaving us with the woman at the desk. I watched as she greeted Taylor, who didn’t introduce me.
I didn’t want her to, and she knew that, but I was definitely starting to feel like a freak. Everyone looking at me and trying not to look at me.
Someone stepped out of an office up the hall, saw us, and actually scrambled back inside.
Trey’s assistant knocked on the office door, then ushered us inside the huge office, which looked out over the water. Trey’s desk was on one side of the room, half-facing the view. He was reclined behind it, and Brody sat in one of the guest chairs.
I wondered if they’d been talking abo
ut me before I walked in.
Of course they had.
They stood up and Trey’s assistant left, shutting the door. “Cary,” Brody said, “good to see you.” He said it casually, like he saw me all the time, and I appreciated that. He looked good, as always, in his leather motorcycle jacket and designer jeans, his short brown hair a little more dusted with gray at the temples than the last time I’d seen him. Fucking years ago.
Brody was the same age as I was, but it just reminded me how much time had passed, and that we were all getting older.
“Hey, Brody.” I shook the hand he offered first, because he was closest, but he really wasn’t who I was here to see. I had no issues with Brody. He didn’t even need to be here, technically, but I was glad he was—so Trey knew that the Players had multiple sets of eyes looking out for them.
Then I shook Trey’s hand, as he came out from behind his desk. “Cary Fucking Clarke. It’s a goddamn honor,” he said, giving me a solid handshake, and then a quick chest-to chest hug and a back slap.
“Hey, Trey.” I took off my sunglasses and looked him solidly in the eye. I wanted him to know I had skin in this game. I wasn’t some hermit holed up in my castle, to be manipulated over passive-aggressive emails, and placated over phone calls when I wasn’t in the room to see the eyes rolling.
Been there before.
Didn’t love it.
But I’d never worked with Trey before, and I figured as two men from the same scene, we could come to an understanding. We’d hung out as kids. Ended up on different paths, career-wise, but we started out in the same place.
Then I watched him shake Taylor’s hand. “The lovely Taylor,” he marveled, and kissed her cheek. He held her hand a little too long, and when he smiled at her his dimples popped. His white teeth flashed.
And I realized I’d almost forgotten that Trey Jones was also a model, not so long ago.
He probably could’ve still been a model, if we wasn’t full up with running his record company, buying up real estate and investing his wealth in building more wealth. He was tall, athletic and charming, one of those guys whose sex appeal just oozed off him—which was also one of those things I’d forgotten since I hadn’t been in a room with him in so damn long. Kinda like Xander, but in a very different way. Xander was all muscles and tattoos and dirty thoughts, and I’d definitely seen way too many girls get drunk on him. But if Xander Rush was a row of tequila shots, Trey Jones was a bottle of wine. Would get a girl just as fucked, but she’d probably be more inclined to savor it.
Lovely Madness: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 4) Page 24