Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“But you’re the head of the record label. You can’t do that for all your artists,” Rosey says.
“Right, but Vivian Cross is the biggest recording star in the world. And the biggest signing Right Records has ever had. I don’t want to fuck that up. Whether her manager wants me here or not, I’m here. But the fact that he does want me here means I’m not going anywhere.”
I also can’t be hovering around Vivian like some overprotective guard dog. I’ve just got to make sure she’s happy. And leave her alone to create her next album. Signing someone like Vivian, when every label would have cut off their right arm to have her, is a big fucking deal. If I fuck up, everyone will be waiting to pounce. Vivian has only signed for this one album. I need to make sure it goes smoothly.
Right Records might be the biggest independent record label in the business, but it’s a small fry compared to the big players. If Vivian’s signing goes well and she’s happy, I expect others will want to come aboard. It could be completely transformational for my business.
“You’re not going to fuck anything up. You’re in Star Falls,” Rosey says. “It’s all going to be great.” She’s looking behind me, and then she starts to wave. “Oh, Juniper!” Rosey calls out and beckons her over.
I turn, and Juniper and a couple of friends are heading toward the pool table in the back. Juniper says something to them and then leaves them and heads to our table.
“Have you met Fisher?” she asks.
Juniper’s gaze turns to me, and her eyelashes flutter, and her lips part. I swallow, like she’s unexpected royalty or something. Her cheeks are dusted in pink, and her skin glows under the dim lights of the bar. Her eyes sparkle as she smiles.
“Hey, Fisher.”
“He’s the friend from New York Byron’s been telling you about.” Rosey turns to me. “I’m sure you can help Juniper out with her art career. You know so many artistic people in New York.”
Juniper laughs, and the scent of orange blossom and jasmine fills my nose. “I don’t have an art career. I’m a teaching assistant.”
“You’re so talented,” Rosey says. “I’m sure if more people knew about you, you’d be a wild success.”
Juniper smiles like she’s half indulging Rosey and half pleased to receive her praise. But it’s a real smile. A smile that I can tell she means to her core. It fills me with lightness and energy.
“Fisher’s staying in one of the lodges that has one of your paintings in it.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, even though I can’t even remember it. But everything about the lodge is beautiful, so I can’t be lying.
She lays her palm flat on her chest. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“What is it you’re looking for?” I ask. “An agent? A gallery to exhibit you?”
A whisper of panic crosses her face. “Oh, I… I’m not really—I paint for fun. I sell one now and again. Twilight Latte always has one up and a few other stores in nearby towns. I don’t expect I’m going to make it or anything.”
She lets out a nervous laugh at the end, like she’s ridiculous for even thinking she might be successful. Part of me wants to scoop her up and tell her it’s going to happen for her—just like I have done with countless artists over the years when they’ve doubted themselves. But I haven’t seen her work, and so I won’t say that to her. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t give people false hope. It’s too painful in the long run. One thing I pride myself on is I don’t say things just to inflate people’s egos.
“I’d like to see your work,” I say before I have a chance to think about it. “I don’t know much about art, but…”
“Great. That sounds like fun. You just tell me when you’re free.”
I nod like I can’t form a sentence, like speaking and looking at the woman in front of me takes up too much brain capacity or something.
She glances down at my plate. “Finished your wings?”
I grin like an idiot. “They were good.”
“They were great,” she corrects me with a smile. She glances over toward the back of the bar. “You all want to come and play pool?”
“Sure,” Rosey says for all of us, and she’s out of her seat before anyone can say anything otherwise.
Byron and I take our beers and follow Juniper and Rosey.
“Juney’s nice,” Byron says, and then he sighs. “That’s it. That’s all I’m doing. If she asks, tell Rosey I told you that Juney’s the greatest woman on the planet.”
Realization dawns. “Oh, I see. It’s like that, is it?” I’m being set up. But I’m not mad about it.