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Chapter 1
Violet
“Ahh shit, really?” I ran my fingers through my shoulder-length, flaming-red hair as I held my work phone up to my ear. The day had been going well, until now.
“Yes, Carter wants to see you now,” My boss’s secretary, who also happened to be my best friend, confirmed.
“Can’t you just tell him I died?”
“You died? I see. How exactly did you die?”
“I don’t know, Alyssa, I contracted that skin eating disease and now I’m dead.”
“You contracted necrotizing fasciitis?” I could hear her sigh of exasperation through the phone.
“Sure, let’s go with that.” I was only halfway serious.
“Even if I could pass off that story, he mentioned he saw you in the eatery downstairs this morning getting a bagel.”
“Oh. Won’t work, huh?” That was the best I could come up with, as it seemed going to see the big boss was non-optional.
“I don’t think he’s going to buy that. Girl, stop being such a cynic. You never know, it might be a good thing”
“It’s rarely a good thing when he calls you to his office. I’m still waiting for him to shit on me for losing my last client. I know it’s coming. I’m lucky I still have a job. And the day had started off so well. Going to see Carter is going to ruin it.”
“You’ve done a fuck-ton of good work for this firm. Stop beating yourself up. People lose clients all the time. You lost one, big deal. That band had no future anyhow, they did you a favor. Now you don’t have to waste your time on a band that was going nowhere and focus on other prospects.”
I sighed. I supposed she was right, though I doubted Carter would see it that way.
“Okay, fine. Tell the boss man that I’ll be right up. Give me fifteen.”
“You got it.” I could practically hear the smile in Alyssa’s voice. “Make it ten.”
Hanging up the phone, I slumped back into my leather chair, closing my eyes. When I decided I wanted to manage musical talent, I had it in my head that it would be glitz and glamor with some work thrown in. Over the years I quickly discovered how wrong I had been. My father had also been a talent manager, and he had made it look so easy growing up. But when it came right down to it, in way too many instances, I felt like I was a babysitter for demanding and self-entitled adults.
Maybe it was time for a career change?
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, pushing back my chair and standing. I just had to go in there with confidence and it would all be fine. Leaving my office, I made my way to the elevators and pushed the up button.
The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Stepping inside, I pushed the button for my boss, Carter Anderson’s, floor, and the doors quickly slid closed. On my short journey upward I gave myself a quick pep talk. By the time the doors slid back open again there was a smile on my face and a confidence in my stride that I didn’t necessarily feel inside.
The one thing I did learn from the artists that I’d represented was that confidence was everything. Even if you didn’t quite feel it inside, if you could fake it well enough then the world was your oyster.
Turning left, I opened the glass door leading to Carter’s office to be greeted by Alyssa. I was momentarily struck with envy over her long, dark curls, which she had tied up in a ponytail. I’d always wanted to have naturally curly hair.
“You can go right in.” Alyssa smiled and motioned to the closed door to her left.
“Thanks.” Crossing the room, I stood in front of the door and put my hand on the door handle. This was it. Time to face the music.
“For the love of God, just go in,” Alyssa softly hissed, her dark eyes narrowing at me.
Turning my head to face my friend I stuck my tongue out at her and turned the handle. Regaining my composure, I opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
Carter was busy signing something on his desk, so I waited just inside the door for him to acknowledge me. Carter was forty-eight and his once-dark hair and goatee were now nearly overtaken with gray. The gray on Carter didn’t make him look old, but distinguished. If he weren’t twenty years my senior, and my boss, I’d have found him quite attractive. Lifting his head, he nodded toward the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Take a seat.”
“Thanks.” I hurried across the room and took a seat. The walls of his office were lined with photos of him with various musicians, many of whom were considered legends in the industry. My gaze landed on one picture in particular: it was a picture of Carter with my father. My father was a legend in his own right. He was considered one of the most influential band managers of the past twenty years. He’d died just a few years ago of a heart attack. He was on the road at the time touring with an up-and-coming band, while I was home attending college.
“I miss him too.”
