I PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE KISSED her.
Second thought, hell with that.
I’d do it again if given the opportunity. That’s just it. There hasn’t been an opportunity, no opening for years. And then all of a sudden last night, a crack. Something inside of Bristol opened just a fraction, but it was enough for me to explore and exploit. I would have explored and exploited all night if she had let me, but that space sealed shut almost immediately. Something shut her down. I don’t know what holds Bristol back from making us . . . an us. It has to be more than what happened with Tessa.
I saw that crack in the wall she’s used to keep me out. Maybe my Shawshank plan is working. Rhyson, Bristol’s brother and my best friend, would appreciate that, movie geek that he is. In Shawshank Redemption, Andy hangs a poster on the wall in his prison cell. At night for years, he secretly chips at that wall until one day, he’s made a hole big enough to crawl through and escape. That’s me. Chipping away at that wall for years, and last night may have been a breakthrough.
Or not.
Because as Bristol walks down the hall of the Prodigy offices, headed straight for me, there’s barely a flicker of recognition in her eyes, much less desire. She nods to me before carefully brushing past to enter the conference room for our meeting.
There are already a few people here, including Bristol’s assistant Sarah. They chat as Bristol sets her iPad and phone on the table, her movements easy and graceful. She wears her hair in one of those complicated braid things it looks like you need a degree to do, the dark and coppery length tamed to rest on one shoulder. She’s paired dark skinny jeans with her trademark stilettos and a slouchy shirt hangs off one shoulder.
The seat beside her is occupied, so I take the one across from
her. She glances up, catching my eyes on her. The tiny frown pulling between her brows is the only indication she gives that she even knows I’m here.
“Let the party begin,” Rhyson says from the door, wearing one of the ear-to-ear grins he seems to have all the time since he got married. The fact that Kai is also pregnant . . . well, let’s just say it must hurt to smile that hard.
“You think you could tone down that smile, Rhys?” Max, Prodigy’s head marketing guy and cynic-in-chief, asks. “It’s too early for such joy.”
Rhyson takes the seat at the head of the table, but his smile doesn’t budge. Max just came through a nasty divorce, so he and Rhys are in very different places. So are we, for that matter. I won’t lie. Seeing Rhyson settle down with someone who loves him the way Kai does and seeing them preparing for their first kid, it makes me wonder how close I am to any of that. I’m knocking on thirty years old. I’m in no hurry, though. My album drops in three weeks, and all my hard work is about to pay off. Is already paying off. Still, I’d like someone to share it with. Not just some groupie. A friend, a lover, a partner.
Bristol’s head is lowered over an open folder. As hard as she works, as single-minded as she is about her job, you’d never guess family is everything to her. I’ve never met anyone who works harder than Bristol. She’s ambitious, yes, but people don’t realize what fuels it. She works hard for the people she cares about. I’m not even sure that Rhyson’s career would have exploded the way it did without Bristol. She was the one who pushed him to get back to making his own music. When she and Rhyson were barely on speaking terms, she chose her degree based on his future and relocated from New York with no guarantees. She’s sacrificed a lot over the last year building this record label not just for success, but out of love for her brother.
I always refused when she asked to manage me, too, because I didn’t want to be just a job to her. I gave in a few months ago, hoping that working together so closely would force her to acknowledge the attraction, the connection between us. But she has somehow managed to keep me out, even as she propelled my career forward. I had success before she came onboard, but I know the unprecedented doors opening for me now are doors Bristol banged on and kicked in.
“Before we get started,” Rhyson says, his grin now aimed at me and growing. “Marlon, dude, what the hell happened to your hair? Kitchen fire?”
He and my mom. The only ones who still call me Marlon. “Jokes.” I nod, suppressing my grin. We pretty much bust each
other’s balls every chance we get, a fifteen-year habit. “Nah. Just wanted something different.”
When Jade came over last night, we started reminiscing about old times in the neighborhood where I grew up. Hard times. Thinking about how far I’ve come since then, how much has happened, made me even more excited for this next chapter. I feel something fresh happening inside of me, and I wanted the outside to reflect it.
“Well, you look about twelve.” Rhyson ignores the middle finger I slowly slip into the air in his honor. “Okay, Bris. Tell us what we’re doing.”
Bristol flicks a glance my way before diving in. I think she’s still adjusti
ng to the new hair, or lack thereof. I am, too.
“Okay. Just to put us on the same page.” Bristol looks down the table at everyone. “We’re talking about the Target Exclusive.”
I still can’t believe it. Target approached us about an exclusive edition of Grip, my debut solo album. Usually reserved for the likes of Beyoncé and Taylor Swift, an opportunity like this is something we can’t pass up. But we’ll have to work our asses off to get it done in time. Fortunately, working my ass off is one of my specialties.
“They want three bonus tracks that will be exclusive to their stores.” Bristol checks her notes before going on. “We need to choose the songs today. Rhys and Grip have several songs not included on the wide version of the album for us to consider. We have to move fast, though, because we’ll need to re-master the tracks and get that version of the project pressed and shipped out as quickly as possible.” “And how exactly did this happen again?” Max frowns at the folder in front of him. “Are we rushing? Committing to something we can’t pull off well in time? I’m not sure about this.”
Before I can tell Max to go suck his own dick, Bristol beats me to it . . . if not more tactfully.
“Max, I don’t have time for you to punch holes in something because you didn’t come up with it.” She rests a fist on her hip and looks at him impatiently. “It’s a freaking Target Exclusive for a debut album. What’s there not to be sure about?”
“I do have legitimate concerns,” he replies firmly. “It isn’t that I didn’t come up with it.”
Bristol tilts her head and gives him a knowing look.
“Okay, maybe that’s part of it,” Max admits with a laugh. “But it’s a lot to turn around in a tight time frame. Can we do it with excellence?”
“Max, I get your concerns.” Bristol tosses her folder onto the conference room table. “But have you ever known me to commit to something we couldn’t get done? I’m not saying it will be easy. Between this, the shows we have with Qwest over the next few weeks, the reporter trailing Grip for the story, and let’s not forget a trip to Dubai thrown in the mix, I’ll probably have a bald spot by the time this is all said and done.”