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“We did,” Jimmy murmured.
“Mostly you,” Matt told her.
“Exactly! Bruce, why would you mess with perfection? I write our songs. I sing our songs. Matt and Jimmy play our songs. It works. Tortured Hearts is just fine without these random guys you hired because some schlub in marketing said our music is childish,” she hissed, venom in her tone.
“Giselle, it’s okay. Nobody is trying to take anything from you,” Jimmy said gently.
Asher noticed the body language among the three band members. Giselle, while clearly the leader, had the quiet, automatic support of her bandmates. Even in front of their boss, they fell into step with her. For some reason he couldn’t explain, Asher felt a twinge of something like jealousy. That was bizarre for multiple reasons. First of all, he could tell there was more of a lifelong friendship vibe than a romantic one between Giselle and the other Tortured Hearts. What was there to be jealous of? Secondly, Giselle wasn’t exactly laying on her best first impression. In fact, she came across as a bit of a spoiled diva, in Asher’s opinion.
Even beyond that, though, she was a client, not a dating prospect. Whether she wanted to work with him or not, Asher had to force himself to view her in a strictly professional light. Even if she wasn’t such a chaotic mess, she would still be off-limits. So why did he feel that same twinge again when Matt tried to put a supportive hand on Giselle’s arm?
She thrashed away from him, puffing up with anger. “I can’t believe you would pull this kind of stunt behind my back,” she hurled at Bruce.
“That’s why we’re meeting today, so that everything is out in the open,” Bruce appealed.
But Giselle shook her head, sending her mop of black hair bouncing around.
“No, you thought you could just hire these guys, push us together, and crank out a new album for the thirty-plus crowd,” she seethed. “I don’t need a babysitter!”
To Asher’s surprise, Blaze stood up, too. True to his name, there was a fiery intensity to his piercing blue gaze. “Maybe if you didn’t act like a brat, you wouldn’t need us to help you grow the hell up!” he shot back at her.
She looked positively stunned that he’d dared speak to her that way. Clearly, she was not accustomed to such resistance. Asher stiffened up, realizing that things were about to go off the rails. He slowly got to his feet, as well, hoping to defuse the situation.
“Look, there’s no reason we can’t work together on the new album,” he said. “Any partnership relies on compromise to make sure both parties are satisfied with—”
“Partnership?” she retorted. “More like dictatorship.”
“The only one behaving like a dictator is you,” Blaze snapped at her.
She rounded on him with both fists tight at her sides. Standing on tiptoe, she leaned over the table to growl, “Nobody asked you.”
“Actually, Bruce did. He hired us to do a job, and I intend to do it, no matter how bratty and annoying that job may be!” he replied.
“We don’t want to change your iconic sound, just update it a little bit,” said Asher.
But Giselle was far beyond the point of listening to reason. She glared hard at Blaze, then at Asher. In a low, almost chilling voice, she said, “I don’t need your help. You’re fired.”
With one last vicious glance at Bruce, she turned on her platform heel and stormed out of the boardroom, letting the heavy door slam on her way out.
In the deafening silence that followed, the four men looked to Bruce. The Hot House exec was rubbing his balding head in exasperation.
He sighed. “Looks like the meeting is adjourned. Good luck, gentlemen.”
