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So was Brodie, but he’d been living in this fishbowl for a while now.
The weird part was I wasn’t a Bandit employee anymore, but I still had to deal with Zoe and their PR team because I was Brodie’s partner. So, I was in tune with what was happening at the label but on a distanced level.
The only constant in my life was Brodie. And my songwriting.
Losing the pressures of being a manager and focusing on my craft? And collaborating with him? It opened an abundance of creativity inside me. One that was fulfilling in a way I hadn’t experienced in my twenty years on the corporate side of the music business.
Still, I wouldn’t trade my time as a manager for anything.
It had all led me here. To him. To us.
We’d spent Thanksgiving with Brodie’s family on Thursday, and it was the best holiday I’d had in over a year. The loneliness that usually gripped me was tempered with the abundance that was a James family gettogether. Lots of great food, music, and sibling mayhem. By the end of it, my face hurt from smiling so much.
Then Brodie and I went back to work on creating songs for the next album. Like it or not, Wayward Lane was still contracted for that, and there was no way out. Not without a long legal battle. But Brodie vowed that once the album was done, they were done with Bandit.
Meanwhile, Greg had assigned the band a new manager, a guy named Harlow Hines. He was brought in to the company two years ago. His reputation was pretty solid, and the band he managed, Vadium, was now climbing the ranks.
Brodie, of course, was not happy about having someone new to work with and was ignoring the many calls and texts that Harlow was sending. I finally convinced my boyfriend to call him back and talk to him. After all, none of what had transpired lately was Harlow’s fault.
Brodie had a video call with Holls, Ronin, and Faise, and everyone agreed on the next plan of action. Their contract renewed in May, and they’d be looking for a new label. Would it mean less money? Probably. Was their brand strong enough to carry them on to continued success without Bandit? Absolutely.
And soon, me and Brodie weren’t the only hot topic in the entertainment biz. Rumors of Wayward Lane’s unhappiness with Bandit ran wild and fast. Soon, competing labels were sending the guys emails, calls, and gifts to woo them.
Bandit was the biggest music company, but plenty of other successful labels were eager for a shot at representing Wayward Lane.
And finally, Brodie and I both agreed that “Sideline” would wait for a future album. We didn’t want Greg anywhere near it. Not when the song meant so much to both of us.
And speaking of meaningful, we were about to make our first public appearance together tonight.
One of Brodie’s friends was hosting an art gallery event in Providence. I was nervous like I rarely was, unsure how I would handle being under the microscope.
I’d changed into my navy suit and was wondering if I should remove my necklace when Brodie slid in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Don’t take it off; I love it,” he confessed as his eyes caught mine in the mirror.
I rubbed the silver coin that rested in the divot of my throat. “I bought this when I first moved to Nashville. Every piece the artist made has a musical reference. The coin is made from a metal tuning peg that’s been heated and hammered to a flat disk. Then she used guitar wire to string the beads.”
“It’s very sexy.”
Instead of leaving it on, I reached for the clasp and unhooked it.
“What are you—”
I turned and placed it around Brodie’s neck.
“It’s not platinum or diamond, but I want you to wear it. I love it when you wear my things.”
Whether it was a shirt, a hat, or my favorite necklace, there was something primal in seeing him wearing my stuff. I loved claiming him in that way.
Brodie rubbed the disk, just like I had, and stared at me with heated tenderness in his eyes. I didn’t know if I would ever get used to him looking at me like that.
“You’re in danger of losing your entire wardrobe because I love wearing what’s yours. And I don’t need platinum or diamonds, just you,” he responded and leaned up to kiss me.
He nipped at my lips, and I playfully bit him back. Until his tongue slid around mine, and then all thoughts about playfulness vanished. I buried my hands in his thick hair and angled his head so I could delve deeper and taste every part of his sinful mouth.
“We have to get going; we’re already late,” Brodie murmured against my lips.
“Or we could naked again and stay here?” I suggested.
