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“Thanks, junior.”
“Go to hell.”
He chuckles while I scowl, watching his lackeys trail behind him down the hallway. Turning a corner, they’re out of sight, and I spin back around, kicking the desk. So now, not only do I have to live with the guilt of how I acted with Jade, but I’m forced to watch Bret reap the benefits of dealing with my father.
“I have to go,” I tell Shawn, heading toward the doors.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to fix this.”
“But I thought—”
I turn around, walking backward. “Shawn, I have to at least try.”
Shaking his head, he gives me a reluctant smile, lifting his shoulders. I nod, feeling his unspoken sentiments and head to my car. I don’t know what my first move is. Sitting in my car as the engine runs, I’m not sure if I should try texting or calling her again. It’d never get through, but maybe by some miracle, there’d be a glitch in the phone service, and it would. Shaking my head at myself, my thoughts then travel to possibly going to the building she lives in and just waiting for her to show up. Is that too stalkerish?
Instead, I decide to go back to Juxtapose Studio. I find a parking spot across the street and turn the car off. With my seatbelt still in place, I linger in the car, staring at the front doors. I don’t know how this is any less creepy, but it’s the only idea I have. I also have no idea if she’s even inside, or if her band is, but the guilt is eating at me. I have to do this.
Heading inside, I’m met by the lobby secretary. “Can I help you?”
I take a deep breath, trying to think on my feet. I can’t just act like a no one and say I’m here for Jade or the Kings of Karmichael. “Hi, yeah. I’m Austin Richards of Rich Records.”
“Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Richards.”
“Thank you. My father is in talks for a, uh, holiday record with the Kings. I know they’re in town, and I was hoping I could finally talk to them.”
“Oh.” Her pleasant expression morphs to that of concern. “I don’t know. The artists usually don’t like to be disturbed.”
I laugh and try to remember every condescending and conniving lesson my father ever imparted to me. Smiling, I give her a wink. “Oh, I know. Believe me, at Rich Records we’ve had some singers really make a scene. I promise I’ll be in and out. It’s really just a crossing of the i’s and dotting some t’s.” I laugh again at the lame joke attempt.
It works. She smiles and instantly relaxes. “I guess that would be okay. You are Jimmy Richards’ son anyway, not some random person trying to gain entrance.”
I act shocked. “Oh, I can give you a couple of stories about people trying to do that in our studios.”
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?”
“Definitely.” I grin widely.
“They’re in Studio C.”
“Thanks so much,” I say. “What was your name again?”
“Deborah?”
My smile grows. “Thank you, Deb.”
Giving a playful knock on the desk, I make my way past the doors that lead into a hallway and act like I know exactly where I’m going. But since I haven’t been here before, once the doors close, I frantically look around and scan everything, looking for any signs or numbers.
Turning down another hallway, I find a door marked “Studio B.” No windows are looking into the studios, so I don’t know how they are separated or if Jade is even here with them. Approaching a door labeled “Studio C,” I grab the door handle. I take a deep breath, staring at the woodgrain door, hoping this isn’t another thing that will explode in my face.
Opening the door, I find Maddox and EJ behind a mixing board. EJ is adjusting a level while Maddox stares into a different room, separated by glass windows. In the sound room, Derrik and Jade stand in front of a microphone.
Maddox hits a button. “That sounds great, guys. Once we get David in here, he’s gonna produce the hell out of you two.”
EJ hears the door and looks over. His eyes widen in shock and anger. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t have time to answer. Maddox turns to see what EJ’s talking about. “Get the hell out of here!” he yells.
