Page 40 of Flirting with Trouble

He sounds so serious, it gives me pause.

“But we can talk about that another time,” he says. “Right now I want to hear the rest of your story.”

It takes me a second to remember he asked about how I got started in the business, and he looks as interested as he sounds. I walk closer to the water, padding across the cool wet sand. “There’s not much to tell. I went to NYU, and during my first year of school, I interned for a talent agency, basically doing grunt work. I figured that was going to be my in. I was laying the groundwork.”

“You’re a planner,” he observes.

“I like mapping things out.”

“So do I,” he says with a devilish glint in his eyes, taking me right back to his line about drawing a map of my freckles.

“Yes, we’ve established that.” I swear he’s going to keep me smiling all night long again. “Anyway, a guy in my dorm played in a band, and they were having a hard time getting gigs. I couldn’t get the agents I was interning for to help them, so I took a stab at it, and it turned out I was good at talking my way into the right places. As time went on, word got around, and soon I was helping other artists find their way, so I quit interning to focus on that and school.”

“That’s gutsy. You took on more bands?”

“A few musicians, but I helped whoever needed it. One girl had been trying to get into acting, and I helped her get auditions, and that led to other people coming to me for help. And there was a guy who had written a book, but he couldn’t get in the door with any publishers, so I came up with a marketing ploy that helped catch their attention.”

“Did he get a publishing deal?”

“Not for that story, but they gave him valuable feedback that eventually led to a contract for another book he wrote a few years later, and I secured that deal for him.”

“That’s amazing. You became an agent at what? Twenty?”

“I was nineteen when I started helping the first band,” I admit proudly. It’s been a long time since I shared that story, and it feels good. “I wasn’t really an agent, but I acted like I was.”

“I knew life didn’t just happen to you. That’s impressive as hell. Now I need you to paint me a picture, so I can envision you doing your thing.”

“A picture?”

“What can I say? I’m a visual guy, and you made me paint you pictures. Come on. Don’t be shy. Paint me a scenario.”

He’s so different from any man I’ve met, I want to paint him a picture. I glance at a couple walking by, thinking about what I was like in college, and when I look at Wells, he’s watching me with genuine interest, and that makes me want to share more with him. “It’s not a pretty picture.”

“That makes it even better.”

“This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe I’m admitting it to you, but I acted like I was a big deal. I printed out business cards on my little printer, and sitting in my dorm room in my shorts and Keds, I would call the offices of big-shot music producers, heads of major venues, and casting directors, and try to talk my way up the ladder, acting like they were lucky to talk to me.”

He barks out a laugh. “I love that. That’s not embarrassing. It’s empowering.”

“It only worked a fraction of time, but with every phone call and meeting I learned what worked and what didn’t.”

“That’s incredible. What about after college? Did you keep doing your own thing?”

“No. Once I graduated, I needed to earn a living in order to afford rent. I took a job at a small talent agency and absolutely hated it.”

He cocks a brow. “Why?”

“Because they wanted me to start at the bottom, doing menial jobs, and they micromanaged me. I felt hamstrung. I stayed with them for almost two years, hoping I’d earn their trust and get promoted. But one day they pushed me to the limit, and I quit without giving notice, which at the time, nearly twenty years ago, was a professional death sentence. Everyone I interviewed with after that called my old boss for a reference, and they were told I was headstrong and insubordinate, which I was. But in all fairness, it was because they were running the company wrong.”

He laughs. “Of course they were. So, what did you do?”

“I said fuck it and decided to go back to scouting talent myself. But I needed money for rent, and I knew if I took a job outside the industry, I would be miserable and have no time to hustle and make a success of agenting. So I put together a budget and a business plan, outlining how much money I’d need to make ends meet for six months, and presented it to my parents, asking them to basically fund my start-up efforts.”

“How’d that go? Your parents seem pretty easygoing.”

“They are, and if there’s one thing they believe in, it’s following our dreams. I’m sure they were a little freaked out that I quit my job so abruptly, but they taught us to stand up for ourselves and not to settle for less than we think we deserve. Most importantly, they believed in me, and that made me want to make them proud. They agreed to help, but they didn’t think six months was enough time to get started. They gave me one year to find my footing, and I promised to pay them back every penny. I started networking and searching for talent the next day.”

“That’s awesome. How did you do it? Stalk social media?”