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“Ooooh. Big shot,” Giselle commented, waggling her perfect brows.
Jimmy nudged her under the table and she poked her tongue out at him.
Bruce went on, ignoring her. “Jimmy, Matt, would you like to say anything?”
Matt spoke up. “We made our introductions at the door,” he said.
“But just so it’s out there, the three of us are Tortured Hearts. Jimmy’s the drummer and I’m the guitar guy. Bass, backup, whatever Giselle needs,” Matt explained, smiling.
“And I’m everything else,” Giselle added proudly.
“Good, good. Mr. Norton, Mr. Tate?” Bruce redirected.
Blaze said, “I guess I’ll go first. It’s an honor to be here and get to work with a household name like Hot House. I’m Blaze Norton. Just in case you guys don’t know yet, I work as a songwriter here in Los Angeles, but I’m from Utah originally—”
“Songwriter?” Giselle repeated confusedly.
“Right. I, too, have been working alongside artists and musicians to compose music and lyrics for the past few years,” Asher broke in, realizing that if he wanted a word in edgewise, he was going to have to just go for it. “I’m credited as A. Tate on many of last year’s summer hits.”
“I mean, that’s good for you and all, but what the hell does any of this have to do with Tortured Hearts?” Giselle asked, her brown eyes darkening with suspicion.
“Well, that’s what we’re gathered here to talk about today,” Bruce said.
Giselle took her feet off the table and stood up from her chair, almost knocking it over. She stared around the table, pausing to glare at each guy. Then she laughed, like she was catching onto a really good prank.
“Oh okay. I see what this is. Some kind of intervention thing, right? Although I don’t understand where these two randos come in,” she said in reference to Asher and Blaze.
“Miss Kingston, this is not an intervention. You are not in trouble,” Bruce clarified.
“Are you sure? Because this definitely feels like punishment,” she said cheekily.
Bruce took a slow, deep breath. Then he said, “Mr. Tate and Mr. Norton have been hired on as songwriters to help you and the boys compose the new album.”
The color drained from her already pale face.
Bruce went on, ignoring the time bomb ticking in front of him. “Our marketing guys have done a lot of research and legwork to determine the best possible outcomes for the next release. Tortured Hearts has two successful albums under its belt, but it is primed for a leap into a more mature demographic.”
“Mature? Are you saying our listeners are immature?” she snapped.
“Tortured Hearts has primarily appealed to a younger audience, teens and young adults,” the executive continued. “But we think this is a perfect time to push the boundaries of what we’ve created so far. Grow up a little, musically speaking. With this upcoming album, we need to focus on listeners in their twenties and thirties. Together, we can bring Tortured Hearts into a new era of musical excellence.”
“Bullshit!” Giselle blurted out, smacking the table with her palm.
“Please, Miss Kingston. It’s nothing personal,” Bruce wheedled.
“You’re kidding me, right? How could this possibly not be personal? You’re talking about my music. My lyrics. My listeners,” she ranted. “And I know my audience.”
“Hey, it’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise,” Matt said, trying to assuage her worries.
Jimmy added, “Yeah, just think of it as a new, fun challenge.”
But she ignored them, her cheeks gathering pink heat as her hands balled into fists on the table. Asher could see just the faintest sheen of angry, hot tears in her brown eyes. She was bristling like a cornered animal. He half-expected her to start hissing and growling. Steam was nearly pouring out of her ears.
“Is this payback for what I said in that dumb interview last night?” she accused.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “What interview?”
Her face twitched, and she quickly said, “Uh, never mind. It’s not important. What really matters is the fact that you’re trying to throw off our perfect dynamic. Jimmy, Matt, and I have been playing music together since before we even came to LA. We have two wildly successful albums under our belt already, and guess who wrote them?”
