She keeps talking like I didn’t say anything. “And even if this grand plan of yours works, even if you can help me get enough of a following on my own to catch the attention of a label, there’s no guarantee that I’d be able to use that to help you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Haven’t you heard of cross promotion? Collaboration? You don’t have to convince a label to take me on—I know you won’t have that kind of power anytime in the near future—but you can help put me out there, grow my following as you grow your own.”
Her frown clears, but reappears again. “If it’s that easy, then why aren’t you already doing that? Why not grow your own following and attract your own attention?”
My throat constricts, and I almost choke at her question. Why indeed? The bitter truth is that I’ve tried and had little success. With a deliberately casual shrug, I turn toward the bar and pick up my drink. Now it’s my turn to avoid her eyes. “I’m too busy working for my brother right now. I don’t have the time to dedicate to recording and uploading content regularly, not to mention the impossibility of performing while I’m on tour with him.”
She bumps me with her shoulder to get me to look at her. “And how will you be able to be my serious relationship and escort me around town and to any and all events if you’re off working for your brother?” She shakes her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I just don’t see how it’ll work.”
“I’d quit,” I blurt out.
She gapes at me, then looks all around the room spluttering, trying to muster a response. And who can blame her? I’ve offered to quit my job for her. And we just met fifteen minutes ago. I open my mouth to apologize and take it back, but the words don’t come out. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of quitting my job with my brother.
I have some money saved up, plus my share of the trust from Brash. And I could get a boring job to help pay the bills if my savings get low while I actually take the time to do what I’m pitching to Alexis on my own. No, I won’t have her contacts. Or Jonathan’s. But it’s not like Jonathan’s contacts have done me any good anyway. What do I have to lose?
“You would do that?” Her voice is soft, tentative, like she’s not sure she should even ask the question.
I glance at her, at the furrow still between her brows, and I’m seized with the urge to smooth it away. But I don’t touch her. Instead I nod again and finish my drink. “Yeah. I think I’m going to turn in my notice anyway. I’ll finish out the next few concerts and help him transition to someone new, but I’m tired of being my big brother’s peon. It’s not what I wanted to do in the first place, but I didn’t have any better options, and I thought it might help me out. That he might help me out. But apparently that’s asking too much.” God, I sound like a whiny little bitch right now, and I hate myself for it, just a little bit.
But shockingly, it seems to be working on Alexis. Her face clears, and she gives me a firm nod. “Fine. Okay. If you’re going to quit anyway, then yes. Let’s do it. Let’s do what you said.”
Straightening, I turn to face her, an almost disbelieving smile pulling at my lips. “Yeah? You’re serious?” She shot me down a second ago. I can’t believe my pity party changed her mind. But hell, I’ll take it, even if it is because she feels as sorry for me as she does for herself.
Despite her bravado, another flash of hesitation crosses her face. But she says, “Yeah. I’m sure. You’ve been around all this”—she waves a hand around, indicating the room at large—“longer than I have. If you say that having a serious boyfriend will make me look more stable and you’ll help me rebuild my following to the point that any label will be salivating after me, then yes. Let’s do it. And I’ll do my best to help you too, whether it’s better song choices or just helping pimp you out more, I’ll do it.”