CHAPTER 12
Emma
I knock on Evan’s hotel room door, and then give a nervous swipe of one hand onto my skirt before switching my briefcase out and swiping the other hand. Contrary to his instructions to me yesterday, I am not wearing the clothes he bought me. It’s not that I’m necessarily against them, it’s just that this is a meeting with Evan and his manager, Tyler, and I feel more appropriately dressed in a simple black skirt and white blouse. My only nod to Evan’s wishes to see me in something less “matronly” is that I’m wearing the same black, strappy sandals I had on last night.
I’m wearing them for a few reasons.
First, I’m short and they make my legs look longer.
Second, they should appease Evan somewhat since I’m wearing business attire.
Third, they give me good memories, because it’s these very heels that caused him to sweep me up in his arms last night and carry me to the bus.
Where… oh, God… I can’t even think about the things that happened without my face flaming red and my heart racing away from me.
When I woke up this morning, I was curled under the covers with Sirius on my feet. My first thoughts were of Evan and what he did to me with his hand. I had to press my legs together under those covers when I thought of how unbelievably powerful that orgasm was, and how I’d never felt anything like it in my life.
I shyly opened my bedroom door, filled with both excitement and dread to face the man who rocked my world last night.
Instead, I saw Red lounging on the couch reading a newspaper. Sirius came out of the bedroom behind me and trotted up to Red, who scratched his head.
“Morning,” I said in a froggy voice.
“Evan stayed at the hotel last night,” he told me right off the bat. He must have seen it written all over my face that I was expecting to see Evan there.
“Oh,” I said… lamely.
“He’s instructed me to bring you over there for the meeting with Tyler,” Red added on. “He’s got your room booked for the night so you’ll be staying there. Figured you could hop in the shower while I walk and feed Sirius, then I’ll take you on over.”
I nodded in slight understanding. Evan has another show tomorrow night here in Miami, and he had told me that about every three to four shows, or when there are back-to-back shows, we’d be put up in hotels for some good rest.
I hear the click of the security bolt on the other side of the hotel room door and my hands go moist again. I manage a quick swipe of one of them before the door is opened and I’m facing perhaps the most beautiful man I’ve ever known in my life. I’m totally a tramp for thinking he’s ten times that this morning after what he did to me last night.
“Good morning,” he says neutrally as he stands back to let me enter. He gives my outfit a cursory glance and his lip only curls slightly on one side to let me know his distaste.
“Good morning,” I say softly as I walk in past him.
Then I stop and stare openmouthed at the opulence surrounding me. It’s the largest hotel suite I have ever seen in my life, and the ones I’d seen had pretty much been on TV or the movies. The massive living area has to be at least a thousand square feet and is filled with silk-covered furniture, luxurious carpet, and crystal chandeliers. Through an open doorway, I can see a massive bedroom done all in white silk with a gilded headboard. There’s a full gourmet kitchen on one side and an outdoor balcony that overlooks the Atlantic, with a large hot tub taking up one side.
“Did you sleep well?” Evan asks politely as he brushes past me and heads over to a large, leather couch done in a buttery-looking taupe. He sits down and doesn’t even look at me, instead rifling around some papers spread out on a coffee table before him.
So… he wants to play it like that.
Like nothing happened and that there are most certainly regrets on his part this morning.
I can play that as well, even though my chest tightens when I think I was apparently a disappointment last night.
“I slept gloriously well, thank you,” I say sweetly as I walk to an armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table. I sit down, cross my legs, and open up my briefcase. “Where’s Tyler?”
Evan’s head shoots up, his gaze first going to my crossed legs before going back down again to look at his watch. “He should be here soon.
Here being this meeting that Tyler and Evan had planned to discuss the three record labels that were making offers. I was stunned when Evan had told me yesterday before the show that he wanted me there to go over everything, even though I emailed him and Tyler my summary of the offers along with my spreadsheets and my analysis of all the legal ramifications to each.
“Did you have any questions about what I sent?” I ask, but before Evan can answer, there’s a knock on the door.
Evan stands from the couch as he says vaguely, “It all looked good.”
I fold my hands in my lap, unsure of his aloof demeanor. I try to tell myself not to read anything into it, because we are, after all, here to discuss business.
His career.
His livelihood.
I have no right having my head in the clouds, wondering if Evan is thinking about me in the way that I’m thinking about him after last night.
Evan opens the door and admits Tyler. They give each other a light fist bump, and it’s plain just by looking at the two of them that they’re close. Evan had told me the other night while we were traveling from Atlanta down to Miami that he and Tyler have known each other for years, all the way back to middle school. Tyler went to Carolina with Evan, and he had eventually sort of morphed into Kickback’s manager, being the one to secure all their gigs. While he went on to graduate with a degree in mass communications, he always stayed involved with the band.
When the band broke up, Tyler went with Evan, a move Evan assured me was due mostly to friendship and not because he agreed with Evan’s decision to go solo and indie.
Tyler precedes Evan into the living room, and I’m momentarily stunned when his eyes come to me with a frostiness I didn’t expect.
“Hi Tyler,” I say hesitantly, a welcoming smile on my face.
He doesn’t even respond, merely takes a seat on one end of the couch. I shoot a look over at Evan, who walks back to his seat, completely oblivious to Tyler’s brush off.
“I’m not quite sure why you invited Emma to this meeting,” Tyler says brusquely as he turns slightly to face Evan.
Evan’s head shoots up and he looks at Tyler in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Why is she here?” Tyler asks, pointing a finger over at me yet refusing to look my way.
With furrowed eyebrows, Evan says, “She’s my attorney. She knows these contracts better than we do. She needs to be here.”
“She summarized them accurately,” Tyler says dismissively. “You’ve read her analysis and so have I. Now the two of us need to decide which deal to take.”
“Or not to take any of them,” Evan says pointedly. “Emma has pointed out an equally feasible option.”
Tyler’s head jerks back in sort of a sneering bark of a laugh, and then the reason for the cold shoulder becomes clear to me at once.
Tyler doesn’t like the fact that in addition to laying out the pros and cons of each record deal, I compared those to the pros and cons of staying indie with his next album, including an analysis of the potential monies to be earned.
Bottom line, if Evan has the same success as Core Deviance with his next album, he will make much more money over the long run. I merely pointed this out as a consideration for sustainability and long-term revenue.
Clearly, Tyler is against that, and I’m guessing it’s because he’s dazzled by the upfront money being offered and the low risk of taking one of the deals.
“She’s staying,” Evan says in a tone that brooks no argument.
“Fine,” Tyler says as he reaches out and nabs one of the documents on the table. I can see that Evan had printed everything I emailed to the both of them, and I clearly recognize the summary sheet of the deal from Phoenix. He waves it at Evan. “This is the one. You have to admit, it’s the best out of the three. Largest upfront payment and a slightly larger residual royalty on the back end. Coupled with their assurances you’ll have creative decision making in the album cover and merchandising, it’s clear they want you. They’re offering some serious incentives.”
Phoenix is absolutely making the best offer for all the reasons Tyler just summarized. But the money is up front to him, and the label makes it on the life of the music—which is forever. He doesn’t get much on the back end.
Evan’s head turns my way, and I’m frozen in place by the intensity of his stare. “What do you think I should do, Emma?”
Tyler makes a scoffing noise and turns his head to look at the window.
I swallow hard, and try to weasel out of answering. “Oh, I don’t know much about the music industry. We’re talking big money here, and my opinion shouldn’t play into this.”
“Exactly,” Tyler mutters, but Evan doesn’t look his way. His gaze stays focused on me.
“What are the things that are important to me?” Evan asks me, and he knows I know the answer to this because we talked about it on the trip to Miami.
“Control. Creativity. Autonomy. Quality,” I recite, trying to remember everything he told me when he was talking about the decision to leave Kickback and go solo and without a label.
The one thing that was not on his list was money.
It was never about the money to Evan, although he’s still very much a businessman. This is how he makes his living and he knows it’s a factor to weigh.
“All the things that are in jeopardy if I go with a label,” Evan says as his head turns toward Tyler, enunciating the words more forcefully by the time he makes eye contact with him. “You know I’m not comfortable going with a label, and yet you keep pushing it at me.”
Tyler leans forward and says, “I’m looking out for your business, Evan. You’re the artist. You get your head stuck in the music, and you aren’t considering the big picture. You need me to guide you on the correct path, and I’m telling you… Phoenix is the way to go.”
Evan gives an exhausted sigh as he rubs his hands over his face and slumps back onto the couch. “Let me think about it.”
“Man… this is your big break,” Tyler says as he stands up and looms over Evan. “It doesn’t get any better than this. You take this deal and you’re set for life.”
“I said let me think about it,” Evan barks at him as he launches off the couch, his voice thundering with anger that had apparently been on the verge of boiling over. It scares me so bad I come shooting out of my chair.
Tyler takes an automatic step back, then another. He puts his hands out and says in a soothing voice, “Okay… fine. We don’t need to give them an answer until after we meet with them during our California stops.”
Evan doesn’t look at Tyler but instead sort of jerks his head toward the doorway. His voice is resigned when he says, “I’ve heard what you said, Tyler. I get it and I’ll consider everything.”
“Okay, Evan,” Tyler says with conciliation. “I know you’ll think about it carefully. Just let me know if you want to hash anything else out. I can get one of the execs on the phone if you’ve got questions that won’t hold until we get to California.”
Evan nods, but he doesn’t say anything to keep the conversation going. Tyler takes his cue and lets himself out.
Turning to face me after the door closes, Evan lets out a gust of frustrated air that blows his long bangs up briefly before they flutter back down. “He drives me crazy with his shortsightedness.”
“He’s just giving you another perspective,” I say neutrally.
A tired smile graces Evan’s beautiful lips, and he nods. “I know. And I’ll listen to him. He’s done so much for me over the years and given me good counsel. He’s always been there for me, and I owe him a lot.”
“But you don’t owe him your career, Evan,” I point out. As his attorney, I feel someone needs to tell him that truth. “That is yours alone, and you have to make the choice that feels best to you.”
Tilting his head, Evan asks softly, “Seriously, Emma… what do you think I should do?”
I hedge again, stammering, “Well… I’m not sure I really understand all the—”
“Emma,” Evan says somewhat harshly. “Tell me your opinion. Tell me the truth of it. There’s so much lying in this industry, I just need someone to give me the fucking truth.”
My heart actually clenches in sorrow for this man, who is probably pelted from multiple angles by everyone wanting a piece of him. I’m sure while Tyler is his friend, he’s also looking at the size of his slice of the pie as well. As Evan’s attorney, I happen to know Tyler doesn’t get a royalty on the indie stuff. He makes his money via a salary for managing things. Granted, it’s a very hefty salary, but it just doesn’t compare to fifteen percent of a multi-million dollar offer.
Taking a deep breath, I give Evan a very carefully couched opinion. “You have an amazing fan base, you have the money and the production means to make another fantastic recording, and you’d retain all those things that are important to you by staying indie. The money will be there, of course, but most importantly, it will be one-hundred percent you. If those things are as important to you as you’ve indicated, you have to give that strong consideration.”
It’s not an exact opinion, but it’s about all I feel comfortable giving him because this decision needs to be his alone so he can live with it. I’m not telling him to take it, because I can’t do that. But I’m telling him to focus on his most important needs.
Something shimmers in Evan’s eyes and his face relaxes slightly in relief. “Thank you for being truthful with me.”
I smile at him briefly before bending down to pick up my briefcase. “Okay, now that my work here is done, I’m going to go work on some Interrogatories to send to the other side in the copyright case.”
As I turn to walk by the coffee table, Evan leans over and his hand shoots out, grabbing me at the elbow. I stop in my tracks and turn my head to look at him.
“Don’t go,” he says softly.
With confusion, I look around the living area, spying a desk along the far wall. “Well, I suppose I could work here just as easy as my room.”
“No,” Evan says gruffly as his hand slides down my arm and takes my hand. He gives it a tug, indicating for me to walk out from behind the table, which I do. When I’m standing directly in front of him, he reaches out with his other hand and takes my briefcase. After he tosses it on the couch, that hand then goes to the side of my head before his fingers latch around the back of my neck. “Don’t go. Don’t work. Stay here with me, and let me do all kinds of dirty things to you. Let me do all the things I wanted to do last night but couldn’t.”
“Evan,” I whisper, my entire body igniting with electrified desire. But still, I try to maintain some sanity. “We shouldn’t. You’re my employer. This isn’t good business.”
His grip on my neck tightens, and he gives me a little shake as his eyes darken to an olive green. “Fuck that, Emma. For just once in your life, do something daring. Do something crazy and impulsive, and do it while you’re sober and without champagne guiding your actions. Stay here with me… let me have you… because you want to. Even though you know you shouldn’t, let your desires make the decision and do it because you’ll regret it forever if you don’t take that chance.”
They say when facing imminent death, your life flashes before your eyes. Apparently, that happens when faced with imminent sex with a rock god who stands before you asking you to let go of everything that keeps you safe and secure.
My life does indeed flash before me. I think of my boring business suits and my granny panties. My penchant for burying my nose in a book versus socializing with people. I note with some disappointment in myself that I eat the same thing for breakfast practically every day—a bagel with low-fat cream cheese.
I admit to myself that my life is patently dull and I’m perhaps tired of that.
My eyes bore into Evan’s as I make my decision. “Okay. I’ll stay.”