the elevator, which stopped again on the twelfth floor, and the women got out. When the elevator door closed behind them, I found Taylor staring at me in the mirror.
“What?” I said.
A smile ghosted over her lips. She looked up at the digital display, watching the numbers climb as we rose. “Nothing. You look like a rock star.”
I looked over at her. “So do you.”
She smiled at me. “Look, I’m just gonna ask you this once, because I don’t want to make a big deal out of it or make you nervous or treat you like a baby or something. But are you gonna be okay? Do you want to give me a signal or something if you need to leave?”
“If I need to leave, I’ll get up and walk out.”
“Okay. Then I’ll get up and leave with you.” She reached over and slipped her hand into mine.
My fingers twined with hers automatically. She held my hand as the numbers shot up.
Twenty-one… Twenty-two…
Our hands slid apart just as the doors cracked open on the top floor, the twenty-third. Taylor stepped out first and walked straight over to the low, curved wall that wrapped around the reception area as I hung back. No one was around but the woman seated there, tapping softly on a keyboard.
The only indications that this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill corporate office were the receptionist’s Primus t-shirt and the Dirty song that was playing quietly. Trey probably had it put on for Brody’s arrival.
I wondered if that meant Brody was already here.
The receptionist looked up with a generic smile as Taylor approached her desk. “Hello. We have an appointment with Trey Jones…”
The receptionist’s smile froze and she popped up out of her seat. Her eyes widened just enough to make it obvious that she knew exactly who I was, and maybe how fucking unusual it was that I was here.
“Of course. This way.” She directed us around the long, curved wall that led towards a waiting area, but we weren’t waiting. We followed her up the hall, past the floor-to-ceiling windows with an unobstructed view of Coal Harbour.
Trey Jones had done well for himself. Especially considering that when we’d met as teenagers, he’d been a wannabe rock star with not much actual musical talent of his own. Just a passion for music and money. And now he owned a successful record label. Brick House Records had turned out a number of charting musicians in recent years, mostly in hip-hop, rap and pop.
But his successes reached much farther than that.
Not only did the Brick House Records office inhabit the top two floors of BHR tower, but Trey Jones himself—or at least one of his holding companies—owned the tower. The man had a lot of diversity in his portfolio, so to speak. I was here to make sure the contract he’d signed with the Players, and this album, weren’t just another property.
In my world, music wasn’t just a product. If he planned to handle the Players’ album like it was just another investment to pad his portfolio, we were gonna have a problem.
Greed bred bad decisions in the studio.
But I was also here for Taylor. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve taken this meeting virtually and called it a day. I wouldn’t have even thought twice about it. I would’ve maybe even blown the whole thing off and relegated the conversation to email, depending on the day I was having.
But now I wanted to prove something to her, maybe. And to myself.
That I wasn’t an antisocial freak, incapable of taking a business meeting with my peers.
That I chose to do all my business from my home studio.
And now, I chose this in-person meeting.
I was in control.
And maybe, just maybe, I even deserved all that admiration and awe Taylor gave me earlier today when we talked about my work. Because deep down, I wasn’t so sure.
I heard the receptionist offering her beverages as I trailed them to another small reception area outside an office door. Taylor declined the drink offer, maybe knowing I didn’t plan to have time for that. The receptionist vanished back down the hall, leaving us with the woman at the desk. I watched as she greeted Taylor, who didn’t introduce me.
I didn’t want her to, and she knew that, but I was definitely starting to feel like a freak. Everyone looking at me and trying not to look at me.
Someone stepped out of an office up the hall, saw us, and actually scrambled back inside.