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He’s blunt about what he wants and his goals for his music despite the fact that he’s barely nineteen.
“Of course. I’m happy to answer any questions.” I pick up the pen next to me, ready to take some notes.
I’m sitting at Finley’s desk in her office, a room that spans the front of the main house, using my laptop to conduct the video call with Duncan.
Finley’s redone most of the room, the walls a fresh, pale blue, the oak desk new and shiny but also covered in paperwork and receipts from her work on the kids camp. Sunlight streams in through the front windows, casting squares of light across the gleaming hardwood floors.
His dark eyes are sharp for such a young person, but his expression is open and honest. “I know you’ve had some struggles finding people to work with in the industry.”
I nod. No need to deny it.
“How will that impact the artists you intend to sign to your new label?”
Despite the fact Ursula warned me this would come up, thinking about all my mistakes still sends a pulse of shame vibrating through me. “I can’t change my past. I can’t control what other people think of me, either, or how they treat me, but I can promise you that I will be completely focused on the artists I sign and what’s best for their careers and goals. I have forged a lot of important relationships throughout the industry over the past decade. Once I prove I know how to turn artists into stars,”for the second time in my life, “things will die down. The industry has forgiven far worse.”
Duncan’s mouth twists into a wry smile. “Money is power.”
A truth that can’t be denied. “I don’t think Rebel Records, or anyone in the industry, will be turning me away once Luke’s album launches.”
He nods. “I’ve seen the videos of Luke and Laila. They’re doing great work.”
“They are,” I push out, swallowing back an instinctive denial.Luke and Laila.Ugh. As much as I hate hearing their names linked, the jealousy an irrational beast inside me, they aren’t romantically involved.
“You think Blake will let things die down?”
I tap my pen against the notebook next to me. “Why wouldn’t he?”
His brows lift in surprise. “Oh, you haven’t seen it.”
My stomach dips and twists. “Seen what?”
“He did an interview this morning since the album went platinum about the, uh, inspiration for some of the more passionate songs.”
I stare at Duncan, his expression apologetic.
My mind buzzes like it’s full of wasps ready to sting at any moment.
I knew Blake wrote about us on his album, that isn’t a surprise, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to listen to any of it. The thought makes me physically ill.
“Thank you for the heads up.”
What the hell did he say in the interview? Did he mention me by name?
I shove the concerns to the side, stuffing them down in a box in my mind. I need to stay professional and focused on this call. It won’t help my chances of signing Duncan if I fly off the handle or let anyone know how Blake’s actions can still rattle me.
Not because I care what Blake thinks, but because if he continues to regurgitate our shared history, the industry will never move on. I’ve moved on. I need the rest of the world to join me.
Duncan asks a few more questions about Outfoxed Records, if I plan on incorporating various booking agents, managers, and PR to the team—which I do—and other aspects of the business. I answer his questions, the words gushing out on autopilot.
Thirty endless minutes later we end the video chat, and I immediately pull up a search bar.
I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to slow the pounding of my heart in my ears.
Blake Bonham interview,I key in and hit enter.
Search results fill the screen.
I scan the headlines.
