Chapter Two

Mason

This was the best part about owning a recording label—listening to new tracks from new artists before anyone else heard them. This band was a sweet spot for our label, and we had picked them up right before everyone else discovered them on their indie label. By the time the indie realized they were exploding onto the scene, they had cut ties and signed with us. They were currently laying down their first CD with New Drive Recordings, and my most efficient and successful agent, who also happened to be my best friend, Chris Bastian, just happened to be the one to sign them to the label.

“Sweet sound,” Chris said to me, motioning for us to go out into the hall.

I gave a thumbs-up to the band as the recording agent mixed and mastered each song as they went. We opened the soundproof doors to the studio and stepped out into the hallway, smiling at the secretary, who inched past us to bring the band their lunch. Once the door was closed, Chris looked to me for feedback. He really was such an Italian, standing in the hallway with his slicked-back hair, piercing eyes, and Italian suit, tassels on the shoes and everything. He never wore a tie but instead left his dress shirt unbuttoned two buttons and threw on the jacket for a better appeal. Regardless of what he looked like, he was a kick-ass agent, and everything he touched turned to gold. His late father was Ricardo Bastian, the famous musician who started one of the top recording companies in the country.

When Chris’s father died, he was left with an enormous inheritance that included steady income from his father’s company but without any requirement to work for them at all. Chris had originally planned on traveling the world, but I hooked him in real fast, knowing he was the key to my success. No matter how long we were friends, though, he always wanted to know what I thought.

“They’re perfect,” I replied. “They have it all: the looks, the sound, everything. It’s another gold star for you, my friend.”

“Nice,” Chris said, shaking his head with his hand half in his pocket.

“So before I go to lunch,” I said, putting my arm around his shoulder and walking toward the door. “We need to see our numbers come up in the fourth quarter in order to meet the investor projections. Not many companies actually meet those projections, but we are seriously close. So, that being said, if we give this to our investors, they will continue to leave us alone. I hate when they get involved in shit.”

“Yeah, especially after what happened when we were forced to sign old man Richardson’s niece,” Chris said, cringing. “I swear my dog could sing better.”

“You have a dog?”

“No,” he chuckled. “He died three years ago and can still sing better than her.”

“That’s messed up, man,” I said, shaking my head. “You have issues.”

“I’ll get your numbers, boss,” he said, turning back toward the studio. “You can count on it.”

I saluted him and walked out the front doors into the sunlight. The city was bustling as New York always does, and I looked around the block to see what I wanted to eat for lunch. I ended up settling on the health food shop down the block and asked the hostess for a booth so I could spread my files out and do a little work while I ate. I was pretty sure if I could find a way to do work while I slept, I would. There was no downtime in this business, and if you didn’t keep your eye out, the next label over would snatch up your artist.

I ordered my food from the waitress before pulling out the file that had all the numbers for the last three quarters. We were doing better than the biggest labels out there and were projected to overshoot our goals by several million dollars. I didn’t tell Chris that because I knew he worked better under pressure, and I didn’t want him to slack off this month thinking we didn’t need the extra cash. I liked to keep the investors off my back and my office nice and peaceful.

When I started this label ten years ago, it was literally me in my house, managing my parents, The Phillips, and trying to use their clout to bring in more musicians of high caliber. My parents were huge stars in the sixties and seventies, and since they didn’t plan on doing any more tours, they agreed to leave their major label to help their son get his off the ground. Though their clout was what brought a lot of the early talent on board, I busted my ass day in and day out making sure this company stayed on track.

A lot of the old-school guys scoffed at me since I started the company with a trust when I was twenty, but in reality, that is how most businesses are started. I grew up in the lap of luxury going back and forth from LA to NY on a monthly basis. My parents’ homeschooled me, and I knew from the time I was old enough to understand what a record label was that I wanted to own one. So, when I was handed my trust from my parents on my twentieth birthday, I took over half the money and started the label. It was scary back then knowing once I received the trust my parents were no longer going to support me, but in the end, it came out better than I could have imagined. I was a billionaire, which didn’t faze me due to my childhood, but was completely earned from hard work and prime investments. Our investments were up-and-coming musicians, people who would be headhunted sooner or later, but we wanted to get a head start.

It’d been almost ten years since I’d started the label, which was impressive for someone with my inability to focus for very long. That focus, or lack thereof, was what kept me above most other businessmen in my field. While they were busy taking their families on vacations, worrying about divorces, and getting married, I was over at my place of business, making sure the tunes were flowing and the artists were big. I didn’t have a lot of time for anything other than work—but I definitely found that I enjoyed chasing women. The biggest problem I faced was after I had caught the girl, I quickly lost interest, leaving a wave of drama in its path.

Speaking of that exact thing, I looked down at my phone as it buzzed loudly on the counter. It was Janet for the fifth time today. I had met her at one of those after-work events that the company held. She played hard to get, so immediately I knew I had to get her. She gave me the runaround for quite a while, but in the end she caved, just like the rest of them. Now, though, the thrill of the chase was over, and I didn’t really have any interest in keeping up the games. There was nothing quality about her personality, and most of the time she annoyed the hell out of me. I shook my head and ignored the text, not feeling like dealing with her at the moment.

It was time to get moving, so I packed up my stuff and grabbed the check off the table. As I waited in line at the register to pay, I watched a small woman come bouncing into the restaurant carrying a stack of flyers. I swear the amount of flyers that are handed out in this city could circle the globe fifteen times. Usually, they were for some titty bar or a new club opening. I watched the pixie-haired girl smile at the manager and hand over a stack of the papers. She looked down the line of people, her eyes stopping on me and scanning my body. She pulled a flyer from her stack and shoved it in my hand, smiled, and bounced back out as quickly as she entered. The couple in front of me looked back at me like I had done something to warrant such an action. Shit, I was just standing there.

I looked down at the flyer and realized it was for a new gym and yoga studio in the Art District. That was a ways out of my way for a workout. They did offer personalized training, though, and it had been a while since I had been to the gym. I glanced over at the mirrored wall next to me, realizing that my stomach was sticking out a little more than usual, and my arms no longer completely filled out my tailor-made suit. Maybe with the amount of stress I had been under with the company, a few yoga sessions a week might do me some good.

I grew up in a house where my parents were stuck in the seventies, so their hippy lifestyle had rubbed off on me a bit. Yoga used to be a regular event in our house growing up, and though I was definitely not a hippy, I still appreciated its calming ability and health benefits. This was not something I was planning on bringing up to Chris since I knew he would mock me relentlessly for calmly bending in ungodly directions in the middle of a bunch of housewives. Hopefully they offered private yoga sessions and not just personal training.

As the line moved forward, I shoved the flyer in my bag, making a mental note to go by after work and set up a session to see how I liked it. If nothing else I would get to watch some hot yoga instructor bend and move in front of me in her spandex pants and crop top. Maybe she would be hard to get and I could shake Janet off my trail. Either way, I was going to have to let this chick down and soon before she started sending me fabric samples for picking out curtains.

After I paid for lunch, I grabbed a cab and took it back to the main building where my office was located. The studio was about ten blocks away and I had a meeting, so walking was definitely out of the question. As I took the elevator to the twentieth floor, I couldn’t help but think about the ten-year anniversary of the company. I had hoped my parents would be able to make it, but they didn’t want to leave the comfort of their beach house in San Diego, and to be honest I didn’t really blame them. They had been in the business for so long, they were tired of the hustle and bustle of city life.

With them not coming, I would definitely need to have a date for the gala the company was holding. I thought about not attending, but I was told that would be a bad move as the head of the company. Who knew, maybe I’d find some really hot yoga girl and sweep her off her feet, at least for the night, make myself look good to my investors and clients, bang her in my office, and then send her home.

I was such an asshole.

One thing I did know for sure, though: there was no way I was going to find a girl to settle down with. I was too rich, too powerful, and way too busy for that kind of shit. No, sticking with the chase seemed perfectly fine for me. The yoga was just a plus since flexibility definitely won them points. My life was just fine on the single circuit.