Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
He tilted his head. “Who told you that?”
My father, I thought. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “But I can’t just blow everything up.”
“Then it sounds like the price is giving up your own vision and doing what the label says.” He raised his arms, locking them behind his head. “But I could never do that.”
“You didn’t follow orders in the Navy?” I countered.
“I did, but that was different. I wanted to be an asset to my team.”
I grabbed the chair arms and sat up taller. “What do you think I’m saying? This isn’t just about me! And stop with the whole ‘price of fame’ stuff. I’m not asking for all the pros and none of the cons. I just want my songs to mean as much to me as they do someone listening. I want the jerks who say I don’t deserve to be where I am to eat their words. I want the producers and executives to stop saying no to all my ideas. I want a place at the table—I don’t want to be the meal.”
“You should be saying all this to them, not me.”
“Gee, thanks.” I shoved my things in my bag. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You don’t have to get mad about it,” he said, infuriatingly calm.
“I’m not mad!” Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stomped toward the house.
SEVEN
xander
I watched her march off in a huff and wondered if she’d revoke my house privileges for hitting a nerve.
I hadn’t meant to piss her off, but if she didn’t like the way her label was treating her, why did she have to stay there? Weren’t there other labels? Wasn’t there such a thing as being indie? Those people who worked for her could find other jobs, couldn’t they?
It was admirable that she felt responsible for people on her team—I liked loyalty. Probably, I should have just kept my mouth shut, like she said. The last thing I wanted was for her to report back to Sully that I’d been a dick to her. When she came back out, I’d apologize.
Inside the house, she rattled around in the kitchen—I could hear plates and glass and silverware clanking through the screens—and I figured she was making lunch. I was hoping she’d come outside to eat, but she didn’t.
Twenty minutes passed. Thirty.
Pretending I had to get something from my car, I wandered past the front windows and saw her seated at the counter. Ambling back to the chairs, I sat down and scrolled through emails and texts. Read the news. Watched some replays from last night’s baseball game.
Still no Kelly.
Fuck. Was she really that upset? Should I go in there? Had I said anything that bad? All I’d really done was suggest she tell the people controlling her career what she told me. I wasn’t insinuating it would be easy, just that if she wanted those things, she needed to say them. It was fucking obvious, wasn’t it?
Artistic types could be so sensitive. I made a mental note never to date one.
Instead of going in search of Kelly, I pulled out my phone to call Veronica.
“Hey,” I said when she picked up. “How are things going?”
“Pretty good,” she chirped. “Painters are here. New dishwasher was installed. But I was expecting the electrician today, and he hasn’t shown yet.”
“Dammit,” I muttered. Finding reliable contractors had been a nightmare. “I’ll try to get ahold of him.”
“I also took a look at the applications you sent me and I’ll reply to your email with the ones I thought looked most promising. Do you want me to give a couple of them a call? Set up interviews?”
“Yes, please. And thank you.”
“So how’s it going with Pixie Hart? I saw your picture with her.”
“What picture?”
“It was online this morning. I’m not sure where it was taken exactly, but you’re standing in a parking lot holding coffees.”
I groaned. “Goddamn it. Can you send me the link when we get off the phone?”
“Sure. Adelaide got the biggest kick out of it. She’s just beside herself with excitement that she’s practically breathing the same air as her favorite singer. What’s she like?”
Glancing at the house, I lowered my voice. “She’s, ah, slightly difficult.”
“Really? She seems so sweet in interviews. So down to earth.”
“Maybe she’s only sweet to people she likes.”
Veronica laughed. “She doesn’t like you?”
“Not a bit.”
“What happened to your charm and magnetism?” she teased.
“I don’t know, somehow she’s immune to it.” I left out the part where I walked in on her naked, peed on a tree close to her bedroom window, and insulted her. “Mostly she’s just pissed to have security on her vacation. Not that I blame her—the cabin she’s renting is small.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“One. And one bathroom.”
“Wow. That is small, especially for two people who just met.” She giggled. “Did you cuddle up last night?”