I asked for that laptop and let Killian set up a PR meeting with my new team at the label.
That’s how I found myself, two weeks after our interlude in his office, back at Skyscraper Records but not to record. I was sitting in a private boardroom that had a view over the river, accompanied by Killian and four strangers who would soon be planning my future.
They all stared at me expectantly and I was grateful to see Eve pop her familiar, friendly face around the door.
“Refreshments?”
“Aye, please, Eve,” Killian replied congenially. I sent him an approving look. Eve was sweet. She deserved a nice boss.
Killian and the four strangers asked for coffee.
“Skylar?”
“Water, thank you.”
She beamed at me and disappeared to get our drinks.
“Skylar,” Killian drew my attention back to him, “I’d like you to meet Lois.” He gestured to a stone-faced redhead. “She’s our director of publicity.”
We shared a nod of hello.
“And this is Kit.” He introduced a tall, skinny guy with thick, black-framed glasses and a beard. “And Jaclyn,” a curvy blonde with flushed cheeks, “our flack agents. Our publicists. And this,” he nodded to a dark-skinned beauty with a short afro who stared at me intensely, “is May, our marketing coordinator.”
“Nice to meet you all.”
“Nice to meet you,” May said, surprising me with her American accent as she reached across the table to shake my hand. “My kid sister is a huge fan.”
“That’s always nice to hear. You’re not from around here.”
“San Francisco. I did a study abroad at Glasgow University and kind of fell in love with the place. After graduation, I moved here and never looked back.” It was weird but hearing a familiar accent made me feel a little less tense.
“It’s easy to fall in love with this place, especially if you like music.”
“True.” She grinned. “I can’t wait for your PR to launch so I can tell my sister I’m on your marketing team. The kid will hit the roof.”
I laughed, trying not to be nervous about the “your PR to launch” part. “If you want me to sign anything for her, I can.” God, I hadn’t signed an autograph in so long.
“Really? Great. The new album will suffice. I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Which leads nicely into our first dilemma,” Kit interrupted. He had a lovely southern English accent I could’ve listened to all day. “We,” he gestured to himself and Jaclyn, “haven’t heard the album yet, so we can’t come up with an approach for radio and media. We can’t explain or sell what we haven’t heard.”
“Yes, Kit, I’m aware,” Killian appeared beleaguered, “and I told you the album is in postproduction. You’ll hear it very soon. But this meeting isn’t about that.”
“No, it’s about managing what will be an explosive return,” Lois jumped in, “considering you disappeared off the face of the planet nearly twenty months ago. Once we have that under control, it’s about managing your exposure. Killian says you want to quieten your public image. Make it more career-focused.”
I nodded, ignoring the unpleasant fluttering in my chest. “Yes.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunately, I’m here to tell you that is incredibly naive and possibly career suicide. We live in a platform-based society where hits, likes, and interest are cultivated by personality and personal anecdotes. The world moves much more quickly than it did even fifteen years ago. Although it’s possible to grow a fan base, it’s very easy for customers to become disinterested, for their attention to be drawn elsewhere. We will need you to nurture your fan base on social media platforms.” Her condescending tone and the way she drew her eyes up and down my body made me bristle. It also made me question if Killian had explained things fully to her.
I gave her an unfiltered look of irritation. “Tellurian had nine million followers on Instagram. My personal account had just as many as that. I know the power of social media and I understand the fickle, ever-changing entertainment industry. Lois, is it?”
She nodded, pinching her lips together in obvious annoyance.
“I was the lead singer of a commercially successful band. I’m not an inexperienced young artist who loves the music but doesn’t want the fame—something you clearly find irritatingly naive. I’ve experienced fame so I can say with absolute certainty that I love the music and I hate the fame. There are no ifs, maybes, or buts. So the condescending attitude? Get rid of it. I was a kid when our band became famous and I listened to all these people telling me I needed to share my personal life with the fans to keep them coming back for more. So, I did that, and it made me miserable giving them so much access. Do you know what happens when you give the public that kind of access? They begin to believe they have a right to you. A right to your decisions, your choices, and your opinions. No one has a right to those things. No one. My deal with Killian,” I flicked a look at him but his expression gave nothing away, “was that I put out a record but I stay out of the limelight unless it’s directly promoting a single or the album. We’re not here to negotiate. We’re here to work out how to make sure Killian holds up his end of the bargain.”
Lois shifted uncomfortably while May looked away, her lips twitching like she wanted to laugh. The two publicists seemed mildly affronted for their boss.
And Killian. Well, he met my gaze head-on and I saw the warmth of his respect in it.
“Skylar is correct. And we’ve already spoken about it. Lois has been briefed. Which means I assume that you have a plan other than trying to talk my artist out of something she has absolutely no plans of being talked out of.”
Lois swallowed and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Of course, Mr. O’Dea. I didn’t mean to insult Miss Finch. I only wanted her to be aware of the difficulties in growing a career with that kind of constraint.”
“And so you did. What’s the plan?”
“Well . . . it has been a while since the tabloids have speculated on Miss Finch’s disappearance from the public eye. That’s partly due to the aforementioned short attention span of the public, but also because without Miss Finch, the usual tabloid frenzy set off by her relationship with band member Micah Murphy fizzled out. After Micah’s stint in rehab a year ago, the partying, the groupies, has all ended. His Instagram account is pretty placid. He’s not giving the tabloid anything to chew on. The band has continued on in relative peace from the tabloids, but they’ve also suffered a loss in sales.”
None of that, thankfully, was news to me.
After telling Killian I wanted to get back online and see what had become of my band in my absence, Autumn came over to the apartment with her laptop. Killian wanted to be the one to sit with me while I opened that door to the rest of the world, but I wanted to react honestly to what I discovered. I didn’t want to worry about how Killian was feeling as I looked into the guys, i.e., Micah.
Autumn and I sat at the island together as I googled Tellurian.
The top headlines that came up were old ones.
Ones that made me feel sick.
PARENTS OF POP-ROCK PRINCESS FOUND MURDERED
STAR’S FAMILY SHOT DEAD IN MULTIMILLION DOLLAR HOME
NO LEADS IN TELLURIAN MURDER CASE
I’d felt Autumn’s hand on my shoulder as I stared at the bold headlines I’d avoided for so long.
“Are you all right?”
The pain was an old friend now. “I’m okay.”
“Skylar, you don’t have to do this.”
“It’s time.” I typed in my name to the search engine.
The first headline made me smirk.
GONE GIRL
WHERE DID THE TRAGIC PRINCESS OF ROCK GO?
“Cute,” I’d said dryly.
For the first six months, there were sporadic articles about my disappearance. After typing in Micah’s name, I’d discovered his trip to rehab. According to the newspapers he’d checked himself in three months after I
took off. He’d apparently been sober ever since. The only article about him in the last three months was regarding a college scholarship fund he’d set up in Montana for kids in foster care.
That almost made me cry with pride.
I was so happy he was doing well in his personal life. I didn’t know if there was a new girl and it felt strange to now hope that there was. I was happy with someone new and I wanted him to be too.
As for the band . . . they weren’t doing so well.
DID TELLURIAN’S MOJO FLEE WITH FINCH?
MACY PROVES SHE AIN’T NO TELLURIAN
TELLURIAN’S FIFTH ALBUM FAILS TO CHART THE TOP TWENTY
It made my heart hurt to see the guys fail. To know it was my fault.
And then I saw a headline from eight months prior:
BAND PLEADS FOR THE SAFE RETURN OF SKYLAR FINCH
My breath caught and I clicked on the article. I was somewhat relieved to discover that it was a case of a headline twisting the truth to get clicks. It led me to a YouTube video of an interview with MTV the band had done eight months ago.
I stared at Macy Olson sitting in the middle of my boys, where I used to sit. Whether it was her idea or not, she still wore her hair like I used to—dyed a multitude of colors. She’d curled hers though, whereas I always wore mine poker straight.
She was traditionally much prettier than I was, with a button nose, big blue eyes, round cheekbones, and full lips. She did backing vocals on a couple of tracks for us. That’s how they’d found her. She was nice. I was glad they’d chosen someone nice.
“So,” the MTV presenter finished up a line of questioning about the direction of the new album, “of course we have to address the elephant in the room. And that’s Skylar’s ongoing disappearance from the public eye. We all understand why she had to leave the band and you guys have spoken openly about your support of that decision . . . but where is she? Her fans want to know. I mean, people are genuinely worried, and if she’s okay, maybe she should let her fans know she’s okay. Do you know where she is?”
Austin and Brandon shared a look while Micah stared stonily at the floor. Finally, Brandon sighed. He looked exhausted and couldn’t hide his worry. “Honestly, we don’t know exactly where Skylar is right now. All we know is that she’s taking some time off.”
“So, you don’t know if she’s okay?” the presenter said dramatically.
“No. I guess we don’t.”
“If she’s listening right now, what would you want to say to her?”
“That we hope she’s safe. That if she’s okay, she should call us. We miss and love her.” Brandon’s voice trembled on the last bit and he looked away, as if trying to compose himself. He seemed to fail when he said, “Can we take a break?” He got up and walked off camera.
It was the thing that broke me.
Autumn wrapped her arm around me and I leaned into her as I cried softly.
They deserved better.
The reminder brought me back to the label, to the meeting, and I glared at Lois the publicity annoyance. “We get it, you think social media is a big part of sales. And you’re right. But Tellurian’s sales haven’t plummeted because I’m not there to help Micah play out our tragic love story for the press.” I looked at Killian. “I listened to some of their new stuff yesterday. It’s . . . it’s not great. And I’m not blaming Macy. She has a good voice. The music, it’s tired.”
He nodded. “I agree. And it’s not your fault.”
It was kind of him to say so, but it was my fault.
I turned back to Lois. “Were you leading to something resembling a point earlier?”
May coughed to cover up a snort and Eve interrupted before Lois could follow her scowl with a verbal response. Killian’s sweet assistant had brought us our drinks and some fresh doughnuts. Once she’d left, I waited for Lois to respond.
“I really am sorry if I insulted you earlier.”
“Apology accepted. It will stay accepted if you’ll get off your point about the importance of social media versus sales. I know it’s important. I’m not disputing that. I’m just not doing it. If you want to set up a team to run social media for me, knock yourself out.”
“This meeting isn’t about creating a positive image through social media,” Killian addressed the entire team. “The media will say whatever they have to say when Skylar returns. The album is great. I have faith that her music will do a lot of the talking for her. The reason for this meeting is to assure Skylar that this career is possible without having the paparazzi follow her every move.”
“Of course. It is possible.” Lois turned to me. “We looked at your previous history with the paparazzi and, as you mentioned, a lot of it centered around your relationship with Micah Murphy. Our suggestion then,” she sucked in a breath, “and it is only a suggestion, is that you minimize your public appearances with Mr. Murphy. In fact, we think you shouldn’t be seen in public with him at all.”
It made sense.
But it still hurt.
Killian studied me with a furrowed brow, and I knew he was attempting to gauge my reaction to this advice.
“I don’t have a relationship with Micah anymore,” I said. “So that won’t be a problem.”
The rest of the meeting was a blur. The only thing I remembered about it was the way Killian watched me after they dropped the Micah suggestion.
When the four of them finally left us alone, Killian stayed where he was instead of coming to me. He asked, “What do you think?”
“Your director of publicity is more sales oriented than image oriented. She should be in marketing.”
“Noted. But I wasn’t asking for advice about my staff. I was asking what you think of their plans?”
“They’re fine.”
He frowned. “That’s it? Fine?”
“Fine.”
Keeping his expression clear, he pressed, “Even the part about Micah?”
“Now that you mention it, we need to talk.”
“About?”
“I did a lot of googling yesterday. Which always sounds dirtier than it is, unless you’re googling porn.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “True.”
“I’m going to contact Adam, my financial advisor. And since he’s Gayle’s son and Gayle’s my manager, I’m going to contact her too. And she’ll tell the band that I’m okay.”
He got up slowly, seeming to process this as he paced for a few seconds. Finally, he turned to me. “And you couldn’t have told me this before so your team could plan for this? We need to control how the press finds out about your return, Skylar.”
“Gayle isn’t going to tell the press. She’s going to tell the boys.”
“Why now? Three months ago, you signed a record deal rather than access your money and alert Gayle.”
“One, I don’t want to owe your uncle anything—”
“Skylar—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’m paying you back for everything and I’m paying rent for my apartment. Plus, I want to start a charity for the homeless. That’s the money part of it.”
“A charity?” He blinked at me in confusion. “What the—”
“But mostly I need to let Gayle and the guys know I’m okay. I don’t have any other family but them.” Tears of anguish burned in my eyes, and Killian froze. “Three months ago, I couldn’t see past my own pain. I can now. They deserve to know I’m okay. They deserve an apology. I’ve been selfish for far too long. How would you feel, Killian? If you were them? If it was you I’d disappeared on?”
He studied me a moment and then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. You need to let them know you’re okay. But Micah? It wasn’t my idea about you not seeing him in public, but I do think it’s valid and not because of my personal feelings on the matter. He’s what stirs the fans and consequently the tabloids.”
“It’s not about Micah—it’s about all of them. And it’s not about anything romantic with Micah. You know that. We’ve been friends since midd
le school. No matter the shit between us, he deserves to know I’m okay too.”
His expression veered from annoyance to exasperation to concern and finally to what I gathered was understanding. “Okay. You’re right. You need to do this. So you do that, and we . . . well, let’s talk about this charity and how we can turn it into PR gold.”
I burst into incredulous laughter. “You’re incorrigible.”
My stomach fluttered as he offered a smile that was nothing short of devilish. “That’s show business.”
I DIDN’T KNOW THEN AS I called Gayle that it would change the course my life was currently on. I only knew that I owed her the kind of apology it would take a dozen lifetimes to make good. Of course, I didn’t have my old phone with my contacts in it anymore but I remembered Gayle would send our schedules and tour info via email and she always included her direct number on them.
When I logged into my email, I found all the most recent mail was junk. I was scared to scroll further down, in case I discovered the guys had tried to reach out over the last twenty-one months. I typed in Gayle’s name, found an old email that caused an ache of nostalgia in my chest, and dialed her number.
I thought maybe I might throw up, and I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to hear her because my heart was pounding so freaking loud.
“Gayle Abernathy,” she answered. “Hello? Hello, anyone there?”
Struggling to get the words out, I forced air out of my nose instead.
“Okay, creeper, hanging up now.”
“Gayle, it’s me,” I burst out, afraid she wouldn’t answer again.
Silence reigned.
She was definitely going to hang up now.
“Skylar?” she whispered in disbelief.
“Yes. It’s me.”
And more silence.
“Gayle?”
“One second.” I heard a door open and close in the background and then, “Where the fuck have you been?”
As Dust Dances Page 27