I chuckle.

“Davis, I don’t back out of bets, but even if I did, Haley would still be a star by the end of the month – and you know it. Seeing the look on your silicone-stuffed face when you have to pay me ten grand is just the very sweet cherry on top of an incredibly satisfying cake.”

Siobhan raises her eyes to meet mine and nods toward Rowland’s door.

“Now Brando, you’ve always been a wonderfully confi—”

“Bye Davis. Gotta run. See you at the end of the month.”

I hang up and smile. I stand up, send another memory-inducing wink toward Siobhan, and push through the pretentiously large double doors that lead into Jason Rowland’s office.

In case it wasn’t obvious, Rowland and I have never seen eye-to-eye. He’s a young guy, tall and slim. He dresses sharp, but he has the cold, clinical manner, and the doll-like hair, of a serial killer. To me, he always looked like the kind of guy who owns a dungeon and gets off on making sex-contracts with women. We come from completely different worlds. Though he likes to tell people he had a tough childhood, anyone can see he was born rich, and never worked a day in his life. He started Majestic himself, but it’s still a subsidiary of ‘Rowland Enterprises’ – his father’s company. Nobody knows much about his private life, but I met a girl once who swore she saw him watching her from across the street almost every day for three weeks after she slept with him.

He’s standing in the typical pose he assumes when people get sent to his office: legs akimbo at the glass wall, arms crossed to puff up his puny chest, looking out over the city. I try not to roll my eyes as I walk up to his desk.

“I like you Brando,” he says as he turns around, and I brace myself for the performance of an asshole who thinks he’s an alpha male. “I see some of myself in you. You came up from the bottom. Fought your way here. And now look at you.”

Rowland spreads his arms wide, as if to say ‘Is there anything better on planet Earth than my office?’ I nod politely, then take a seat without asking. This is going to take longer than I’d hoped.

“But it still bugs me that we lost Lexi. I still don’t know why. Why, Brando?”

I shrug. It’s too early in the morning for this shit. Ten pm would be too early in the morning for this shit.

I clear my throat and hope the discussion can move on from this topic ASAP. “I don’t know what to tell you, Rowland. I guess she just felt this place wasn’t a good fit for her.”

He shows his whitened, tiny teeth in a nasty smile. “You weren’t a good fit for her, Brando. You lack that killer instinct. You couldn’t close the deal.”

Hearing this shit from Davis is one thing – at least I can hang up on Davis. But here on my own turf? My fist clenches at my side.

“I’m here to talk about Haley Grace Cooke,” I say, putting a little steel in my voice, enough to let Rowland know where this conversation is going.

“Who?”

“Haley Grace Cooke. The girl everybody went crazy over at the showcase a couple nights ago. Everyone’s talking about her.”

He shrugs, unimpressed. “I don’t speak to ‘everyone.’”

“Of course. Look,” I say, pulling out my phone, “she’s got a song they’re playing on regular rotation on every college station in California. She’s already getting a lot of momentum online. Listen.”

I play the song on my phone and watch Rowland’s reaction. He leans back in his chair, fingers arched in front of him, and pouts as if he’s contemplating the meaning of life.

“Nothing’s official yet,” I say, taking advantage of Rowland’s rare silence, “but she’s a lock. We can pick her up when we want. For now, though, we need to take advantage of this buzz. She’s got a demo for now, five songs – all of them potential hits. I’ve been circulating the tape and it’s already getting good feedback. Right now, though, she needs a video, and for that I need a budget.”

“Stop the song.”

I oblige, leaning forward to turn it off, and put the phone back into my pocket.

“You want a budget,” Rowland says, leaning back in his chair even further with an expression of disapproval as if I just asked for his only daughter’s hand in marriage, “for an unsigned artist, who may not even go with us—”

“I told you, she’ll sign with us when I tell her to. I can call her in right now. But this video will be an act of good faith. Trust me, she’s worth it. You already have proof,” I say, leaning forward in my chair as I try to convince him.

“Based on what?” Rowland says, a smile on his face. He can’t hide how much he enjoys playing his power games. He puts his feet up on the floor and his hands behind his head. “A few college DJs? A few industry types who wouldn’t know the street if it smacked them in the face?”

“It doesn’t have to be a big budget. She’s talented. We should make the investment while we can.”

“You mean take the risk. Then it’s my ass on the line instead of yours.”

“It’s no risk. It’s just a small amount of money that we’re sure to get back. If we capitalize on this.”

“Excuse me? Last I checked I’m the one who decides what to do with this company’s finances – my finances. And given your track record, I can’t say I have much faith in this girl. Does she even have any talent, or are you just blowing smoke up my ass for your latest flavor of the week?”

Something inside me sparks up, the thing that I suppress every time I walk into Rowland’s office. I lean forward slowly, my face blank, and say the next two words slowly.

“Fuck you.”

They taste delicious.

Every part of Rowland’s face drops. He drops his feet off the desk, puts his palms on it, and leans forward.

“I’m sorry? Did you just—”

“You heard me. You’re not deaf – although that would explain a lot of things.”

I stand up, and Rowland instinctively backs up a little.

“Who do you think you are?” he manages to say, though his voice is weak and nasal. “Have you forgotten that I’m your boss?! I pay you!”

“I know what I am. It might have taken me a while to figure it out, but I know. I also know what I’m not. I’m not a cowardly parasite that doesn’t believe in anything, or anyone. I’m not a jumped-up rich kid with an inferiority complex he has to keep hidden behind a big office and lousy power-plays.”

I turn around and start walking for the door.

“You’re fired, Brando!” Rowland calls behind me. “You’ve just made a big mistake!”

This time it’s me who raises my arms out wide as I step toward the door.

“So why do I feel fucking great?”

Chapter 14

Haley

“You said that?”

Brando nods and takes another lick of his ice cream cone, his smile framed against the endless ocean. The dusty-orange light of the setting sun carves out his perfectly-proportioned face so sublimely I feel like I’m living in an Instagram photo.

We carry on down the boardwalk, working on our ice cream cones, feeling light and happy. Every second a perfect moment that seems to linger before it gives way to another.

“So what are you now? Are you still my manager?” I say as we start walking up the pier, almost reluctant to break the comfortable silence between us.

“I guess,” Brando says, sucking the end of his finger in a way that makes me wish he’d asked me first. “I was never that good of an A & R guy anyway. I like artists too much to exploit them.”

I laugh a little. “’Too much’ is one way of putting it… Thanks, though. I appreciate you sticking up for me.”

“I did it just as much for myself as for you. If I was really smart I’d have kissed his ass until he handed me the budget. But…”

“But that doesn’t exactly come easy to you, right?”

Brando sits on the bench at the end of the pier and looks up at me, smiling.