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His jaw works, eyes narrowing. “Maybe we made a mistake with ITA.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I take a step in.
“Do you—”
“If you work her like that, I will drop her.”
The words come out before I have time to consider them. But I was right; I called his bluff. He knows he won’t get representation as good as he’s getting from me anywhere else. Everyone knows if you sign with Marion and me, you sign with the best.
“I won’t be responsible for watching her burn out,” I say, voice dropping. “This is a bullshit industry. Every person she meets from here on out will treat her like she’s a commodity. If she can’t rely on her father to keep her safe, who can she rely on? Because that’s your fucking job.”
My voice rises. Anger flares in his eyes.
“I’d like you to back off and take a breather,” I say.
There it is, the bomb I’ve been planning on dropping since yesterday. He takes a step back, does a circle, and gets up in my space.
“I’m her manager,” he spits.
“I’m her agent.”
“I can fucking fire you. I fucking pay your bills.”
“No,” I say, putting a finger on his chest and shoving him back. “She pays your bills and mine. The buck stops with your daughter.”
He opens his mouth to retort, but I step away. If I don’t, I’m gonna hit him.
“Read one of her contracts, for a change,” I say flatly. “I’ve read them all.”
“I’ve read her fucking contracts.”
“Oh yeah? How long until she’s out of her contract with Houston-Best?” I snap back.
His lips part, throat bobbing. “It’s nine years, standard.”
“Seven.”
“It’s the same—”
I turn on my heel. “When’s her birthday, Noah?”
He swings, and my brain goes quiet, my body sidestepping. I’ve done martial arts and self-defense classes just to stay fit, and it kicks in. My arm notches around his neck, subduing him against my chest, but not hurting his throat. He tries to struggle, but I keep him still. My mouth hovers over his ear.
“You’re gonna go in the garage and get yourself a beer and sit your ass down,” I say softly. “I’m gonna talk to Madi and her producers, and when we’re done, you can review the plan. Got it?”
He doesn’t speak. I tighten my bicep slightly.
“Okay, fucking fine,” he spits out.
Pushing him off, I step back so he can’t swing and hit me. Fortunately for me, they have outdoor security cameras, and he’s not going after me, not when he swung first. He spins, straightening his shirt. We stare each other down. I’m not budging. While he might think this is an unusual occurrence, I’ve been doing this for long enough, he’s not the first person to try to hit me for standing up for a client. He’s about the tenth.
He spits on the ground, wiping his face, then leaves to circle the house to the garage. I turn, releasing a heavy sigh. The windows are empty—good, I was hoping Madi didn’t have to see all that. Shoulders down, I go inside, but not before arranging my face into a pleasant smile. Nobody needs to know the bad parts, least of all the client.
The war is far from over, but today, the battle is won.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SERENA
