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I only shake my head and don’t respond.
He shrugs. “Go apologize to the Crawfords. Don’t do it for me. Do it for your band.” He walks off, storms past the busker, and exits out the gates.
I watch him go, stunned.
I had no clue he knew about Pride. Well—he sort of knows about them. He’s got the wrong name, but he’ll figure it out.
I’m to stunned to move and I sit there for a few minutes, staring at my hands, my brain working in a million different directions. Can I do what my father’s saying if it means helping Pride? Would he really try to ruin them, and if so, what could he possibly do?
Ansell sits down in the space my father vacated and leans back, listening to the music. “You don’t look okay,” he says.
“He threatened me. He threatened Pride.”
Ansell doesn’t seem surprised, although he never does. It’s hard to tell what that man’s thinking. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. It’s like I’m trapped and everyone around me wants to either use me or destroy me, and I don’t know what to do.”
Ansell sits there, watching the busker, and I’m not sure he’s even listening until he reaches out a hand and puts it on mine.
I stare at his fingers. They’re strong and thick, and he squeezes my palm. I squeeze back, blinking away tears, and he glances at me with that enigmatic frown.
“You don’t have to worry about what anyone else wants from you, Pearce. You’re with me now.” He stands slowly and helps me up, still holding my hand. “Come with me. I got a gig for Pride tonight and we need to get them ready.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“A friend of mine from Universal agreed to see them.”
I nearly gag. “That’s a major label.”
“That’s the major label, Pearce. Now come on, get your jaw off the ground. You have a job to do.”
I nod once and we turn to go, but I stop and pull away from him. I walk over to the busker and toss a few dollars into his guitar case. He grins and winks at me, and I wave as I walk away.
“Now I’m ready,” I say to Ansell and we leave together.
Chapter 16
Marie
Kari paces back and forth in the tiny green room backstage. “This is a nightmare. This is so awful.”
“Calm down,” Dean says, sipping a beer. “We’ve played this set a million times. We know how to do it.”
She turns and glares at him. “Don’t tell me to calm down, you selfish, pompous, egotistical—”
“Kari,” Kurt warns.
She takes a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Dean says, grinning. He glances over and winks at me. “This is how Kari works out her nerves. She abuses me and I take it graciously.”
“You told her that you’d cut out her womb and make her eat it just last week,” Tobias points out.
Dean waves him away. “One moment of weakness. I’m a saint, really.”
“You’re a demon, but so long as you channel that evil energy up on that stage into putting on a good show, I couldn’t care less.” Kira sighs and flops down next to me on a low loveseat. “I want a drink to calm my nerves but it’ll only make my drumming sloppy.”
“You guys are going to be great. I know I’m supposed to say that and all, but I really mean it. You’re playing the best I’ve ever seen right now.”
“It’s a major label guy though, Marie.” Kira leans her head on my shoulder and I try not to smile like an idiot. She can be so affectionate sometimes and I really love it—makes me feel like I’m an actual part of the group, even if I’m just the manager. “We’ve been working our asses off for years to get major label attention and now suddenly it falls from the sky.”
“Not from the sky,” Kurt says as he tunes his bass. “From Ansell Drake.”
“No, from Marie Pearce,” I say and the band laughs. “Seriously, it’s not because of me or Drake or anyone else. Do I think it’s fair that we live in a world where you need a big-time manager to catch the eye of a big-time label? Yeah, I do think it’s unfair. You guys are amazing and you should succeed entirely based on merit. You shouldn’t need me. But here we are, and you know what? Screw how you got here, because you’re here, and you deserve it.” I stand up and go to the door. “You’re on soon. I want you guys to go out there and kill it, okay?”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Dean salutes me. “Very rousing. I feel inspired.”
“One hell of a speech,” Tobias agrees. “Makes me want to follow you into war.”
Kari rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Marie.”
“Just kill it.” I wave and leave the green room, head through the snaking halls behind the stage of the Trocadero Theater, and stand in the wings deep in the shadows. An opening act, three guys on acoustic guitars and a female singer that plays the tambourine with shocking skill, make the packed house sway. The lights are dimmed and the smell of bodies is almost overwhelming.
