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“Emily,” I hear him call, almost begging, but I speed up and put as much distance as possible between us.
The anger inside fades with every step because the truth is that the only person I’m furious with is myself. I buried two years of shame under a sea of justifications but never wholly got rid of it. And today, Evan uncovered the part of my heart where all my emotions are buried and he looked inside. He saw my shame, embarrassment, and every nuance of weakness I didn’t want him to notice.
Because Evan is not just my boss, he is the person I dream of becoming. He’s the man who, at just nineteen years old, made a name for himself in one of the most competitive industries and came out the winner. The guy everyone wants to work with but also fears.
When I was hired at Jail Records, my goal was to learn from him, to advance to the point of making a name for myself, and along the way, benefit from his mentoring.
But tonight, I realize how fragile this path is that I’ve chosen and how much of my heart I have placed in Evan’s opinion of me. Today he shoved in my face, unconsciously, what little respect I have for myself in choosing the easiest path, and it hurts more than I expected.
The club is so dark you can’t even see people’s faces. The music is deafening, and the blinding strobe lights are annoying. I have always hated these places; they’re noisy and stuffy, and the smell of sweat is poorly masked by expensive perfumes.
I elbow my way to the door behind the crowded bar and approach the bouncer, who steps aside when he sees me and lets me in. As much as I hate this place, I’ve been here so many times that the employees know me. I climb the stairs to the private room where the Jailbirds have partied countless times, and when I arrive on the landing next to the bar, the manager of the private room, tucked into a little black dress that fits like a glove, approaches me.
“Can I help you find a table?” She smiles at me with the professionalism that her work requires.
She was hired years ago as a waitress, but her ability to maintain a detached and professional attitude while managing the problems that arise during the night has earned her points with customers, resulting in her now managing this small space where she is the undisputed queen.
I smile at her. “I’m looking for Adam Jefferson.” Luckily, the music up here is not as deafening as downstairs, and I’m not forced to shout.
The girl smiles and beckons me to follow her. The darkness of the room doesn’t allow me to see all the people sitting here, but I catch a glimpse of a couple of familiar Hollywood faces with women who I can see are not their official partners. I’ll never understand how certain people have the courage to go home to the partners they live with after sleeping with someone else just a few hours before.
I find Adam sitting on a sofa near the glass wall overlooking the dance floor below. He’s holding his usual glass of whiskey and sports the trademark bored face he’s worn since he decided to hang up his guitar and retire.
“Being a retiree doesn’t suit you.” I catch his attention as I sit next to him.
Adam slowly turns to me with a smirk on his lips, giving me the middle finger. “To tell you the truth, I don’t miss the smelly dressing rooms, the sweaty roadies, or the sleepless nights. This morning I got a massage and came out reinvigorated,” he laughs, amused.
“Don’t you miss making music at all?”
“When you do it for fifty years for work, you no longer feel that urgent desire. Plus, I didn’t stop making music, it’s just that now I sit at the piano in the morning when I get up and play for the joy of it.”
I nod and smile. After a career like his, I understand why he wants to stop and enjoy some peace. Away from the fame, the intense rhythms of the tours, and the promotion that keeps you away from home for months.
“I haven’t seen you in a while. Why did you want to meet me here tonight?” The tone of his phone call seemed rather urgent. Under normal circumstances, I would have declined the invitation. I am too stressed from work to think about going out on a Sunday night to have a drink in a crowded place, especially after my argument with Emily. I didn’t intend to tell her she’s a prostitute, and I most definitely didn’t want to propose sex with me in exchange for money. But I got nervous, and every word out of my mouth worsened a situation I was already struggling to manage. I just wanted to help a friend get out of a problematic situation, as I’m used to doing with the Jailbirds, but it’s clear this approach doesn’t work with her.
However, the tone of Adam’s voice and his resolution to not give me any explanation on the phone immediately alarmed me. He’s an easygoing guy who doesn’t insist if you don’t want to go out, and isn’t offended if you don’t communicate for a while because he knows your life is messed up.
He sips from his glass while waiting for the waitress to leave after bringing me a beer. He studies me with those eyes full of wisdom and more than seventy years of life experience, and I work at keeping my back straight and my chin high, proud of what I am. How he looks at me makes me want to curl up on this sofa and disappear.
I met Adam at the beginning of my career when I was a newbie, and the record company treated me like I was worthless. Adam witnessed a fight with a producer that I lost badly, and, despite not being my client, he took me aside and told me to grow some balls and show them who they were dealing with. He made me realize that I had the upper hand because I could convince the artists I represented to stay with the label or not. Losing an artist, for the record company, means losing income. From that day on, we developed this strange friendship. Sometimes we go out to drink, and sometimes he is my mentor.
“Rumor has it that the Jailbirds’ old record company has a bone to pick with you.”
I’m not surprised that there is gossip in the industry about the situation with the Red Velvet Curtains, especially after the Jailbirds left. It’s the biggest band in the world; anyone close to them attracts a lot of attention.
“You make it sound like it’s a mild inconvenience.” I smile and sip my beer without ever taking my eyes off his thoughtful ones.
“They’re trying to cut you off, aren’t they?” he asks, not beating around the bush. It’s not Adam’s habit to tiptoe around the problem.
I nod without adding anything else.
“Are you going to grow some balls, or do you want to let them win?” He scolds me like he always does when he thinks I haven’t put enough effort into solving a problem. This time, however, the situation is really complicated.
“I swear I’ve sifted through the contract down to the smallest detail, and there’s not much I can do. Believe me.” Under normal circumstances, I would have taken the warning as his usual gruff way of spurring me on, but today his attitude annoys me a bit.
“Not even with the new one?” He frowns and studies me, perplexed.
I look at him for a few more details because I don’t know what he’s talking about.
