Wicked (Somerset University #2) - Ruby Vincent Page 0,5
artists not even I had heard of, and she dealt with the most temperamental of them under our label with a smile. I didn’t question she earned the job.
“I’ve got your order, Mr. Meyer.”
“You can take it down to my office. Good day, Levi. Jaxson.”
He blew out of the room and Gwen spun around, hurrying to catch up.
Dad ripped his wrap in half and slid it to me. “You gotta stop roasting Daniel’s nuts, J.”
“Nice image.”
“You did wrong and you have to earn his trust again. Whether you like it or not, you both work together. Petty shit tanks businesses as fast as they do great bands. You’re not breaking up Interstellar Records.”
I snatched the food, kicking my feet up on the desk despite him. I tore off a bite to save me from answering.
Dad was missing one fact: Daniel did not want to work with me. Dad’s reaction to the leak was to ban my cellphone. Daniel’s reaction was to ban me. He didn’t want me near the artists, near the sound booths, near the building. He told my dad he wanted me gone and all talk of me taking over put to bed. He said as much to my face.
He wasn’t interested in my apologies—and I gave plenty. He ignored my clean track record since that day. And he barely acknowledged me unless it was to get on my case for my clothes, speech, or existence. Along with his monogrammed mother-of-pearl cuff links, Daniel wore his dislike of me as his second signature.
“I’ll try, Dad,” I said since that was the only answer he’d accept.
“Good. Now go. Bianca is expecting you.”
I didn’t move. “Can I play you those demos later?”
Dad crumpled his wrapper. He reared back and sent it sailing over my head. I heard a soft ting that told me he got his target.
“Sure. But not too late. I’m taking a friend out to dinner.”
I heaved myself out of the chair. “Whoever this friend is, I’m not calling her mom.”
Dad’s lyrical laugh rolled out of his chest. Every sound he made was music. “Get your ass out of here and report to Bianca. Some of us get paid to work around here.”
Every sound was music, but that music wasn’t always pleasant.
“We could all get paid around here if you slid me a salary,” I mumbled.
Dad just laughed me out of the door.
I stepped out of the elevator and almost ran into Bianca. She stood in Artist Alley like she was waiting for me. Behind her, platinum records covered nearly every inch of the walls, hence it was dubbed Artist Alley.
“It wouldn’t kill you to bring me coffee too,” she said, pierced brows arched. “It might even get you on my good side.”
“We both know I live on your good side, mama. You love me.”
“I don’t remember pushing your skinny self out of me,” she shot back. “So don’t call me mama.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
She gagged. “Somehow that’s even worse.” Bianca draped her arm around my shoulders and led me off. “Did your dad tell you the good news? You’re mine for the foreseeable future.”
Daniel’s wish to turn the label into a haven of pantsuits, pencil skirts, and blazers hadn’t penetrated far outside of his domain—legal. Bianca sported jeans that were ripped from wear and tear, not style. Her plaid top was rolled up to the elbows, revealing her ink. And the tight tank top underneath showed off everything else. With her messy bun, coffee mug perpetually in hand, and shadowed eyes from late-night gigs, you wouldn’t peg her for a department head in the biggest label in the country. But Bianca put everyone who underestimated her in their place.
“That’s alright with me,” I said. “Throw me at any band you can think of.”
“Remember you said that.”
We walked into her office. Bianca pushed her sleeping bag on the floor and gestured for me to sit. Sometimes we were recording so late she crashed on her couch. I’d feel bad for her if I wasn’t the poor sap snoring in her spare bag on the floor every other night.
“They’re called Beyond Berlin,” she began. Bianca poured us both coffee. “They play every weekend at this bar downtown and fans have been posting their sets online. They’re good. Crazy good. The lead singer’s got this voice that haunts you long after the song ends.” She surged forward in her seat and liquid splashed out of her mug. “They’re signing with us, Jaxson. We’re the label that’ll catapult them to the stratosphere.