Chapter 1 #2
She considered saying something, anything—but she knew it wouldn’t matter.
In fact, it could make things far worse, like spraying gasoline on a fire She’d been here dozens of times before.
What she wanted didn’t matter—unless it came out of Mal’s mouth, and even then, it depended upon the whim of the suits.
And she knew whatever was happening was already in motion.
There was nothing she could say that would change it.
Quickly, her eyes scanned the document as her shoulders dropped. These fucking assholes were in the process of cancelling all the remaining tour dates? If the fans did hate her for what happened last night, that wouldn’t even compare to her not honoring her obligations.
But before she could even ask or demand explanations, the silver-haired man began talking again. “The tour is over—and we’re pressing pause on the next album as well.”
What?! If she’d thought cancelling a month of tour dates was bad, it couldn’t even compare to not releasing her next album.
They knew she already had all the songs written and polished, more of what her fans loved.
How could they do this? They hadn’t even asked for an explanation or a promise to “behave” like they’d demanded in the past.
Mal started dickering with the suit, trying to get him to compromise, while Raine took it all in, biting her lower lip.
They were killing her career right in front of her eyes, and all she could do was watch.
And the beast inside grew, pushing against her breastbone, filling every crevice inside with a red-hot rage that consumed every atom.
She wanted nothing more than to just disappear in that moment, because she could hear the words behind what they were actually saying: She was a brilliant artist, but her star burned bright and fast. She couldn’t handle the pressure or the fame.
She was too young. She was too much of a train wreck.
She’s beyond helping…and it’s best to just let her go.
Raine felt even more anger as she realized they didn’t hate her. No, not at all.
Instead, they pitied her.
No. The truth was they didn’t really care. She was nothing more to them than a cash cow, and they could always find another. Overnight, they believed, she’d become too much of a “liability” to warrant continuing to reap the rewards of her art.
And they were done.
That hurt even worse.
But as they continued talking around the table, Mal trying to get them to give in a bit, Raine felt the monster hide back in the pit of her belly where it came from, replaced by something else.
And she wasn’t sure how to handle the next emotions that washed over her, because they were ones she tried to avoid.
She felt a sense of shame and humiliation, emotions she thought she’d figured out how to handle—and, realizing she hadn’t, the monster inside tried to bloom again. But it was defeated.
Mal and the silver suit continued talking—but there was no heat to what should have been a raging argument.
Instead, it was cold and unemotional, as if they were two surgeons operating on someone’s heart, the thousandth patient in a row, so blasé because they’d done it so many times that they didn’t seem to care that they literally had their patient’s life in their hands.
It was just another fucking day.
And she was about to become a washed-up has-been nobody.
That was when it struck her—a cold, hollow feeling: fear. What the hell would she do? Her heart began thudding in her chest as she realized this could be it, the end of the road, and it hit her like a bullet train, causing her brain to go silent.
Mal’s voice cut through it all. “What’s the plan, gentlemen?”
Finally, the silver-haired man shifted his eyes from Mal to Raine just as she looked up at him.
“We’ve discussed this, and we don’t want you taking it lightly, because we’re going out on a limb here.
And know that this was not a unanimous decision.
Several of us thought we should cut our losses…
but we’re going to give you one last chance. ”
Raine knew she should have felt relief at that statement, but it was his tone of voice and the stern expression on his face that made her shoulders ache with tension more than they had mere moments ago.
Still, she nodded, waking up from a numb feeling as she maintained a professional air.
Her insides began to warm up like the interior of a volcano, with blistering magma starting to simmer in its depths, threatening to consume all it touched should it erupt.
Mal said, “Let’s hear it.”
“As I said, we’re shelving the album you’ve been working on.
If we’re going to do this, we need some distance—not just timewise but also in terms of your work.
And we’re going to have you go in a slightly different direction.
You will create a new album, but this time, it’s going to be under our terms.”
“What does that entail?” Mal asked.
As if her manager hadn’t said a word, silver fox continued.
“You will go to Quentin Russo’s studio in Joshua Tree, and the two of you together will write your next album from scratch.
Once we see how that album goes over and if Raine can manage to keep herself together for a while, we’ll contemplate next steps. ”
Quentin Russo? That name was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
Wait…oh, yes, she could. She knew him. What the hell were these assholes thinking? If they thought Raine was a train wreck, she had nothing on that guy.
And Joshua Tree? Jesus…she’d never been there, but she’d heard about it. Desolate, barren—far away from civilization in the fucking desert.
But that was exactly what these guys wanted. They wanted her out of the public eye where she couldn’t cause any more “destruction.” But what a stupid idea. Her fans loved the music she wrote, often appreciated her “antics.” Why change a good thing?
And…if she said no, she could kiss everything goodbye. She already knew no other studio would give her a chance, not after last night. And what the hell would she do with her life if she couldn’t share her music?
After all that, though, she realized—it could be good for her, disregarding Quentin Russo. Maybe getting out of L.A. and away from these people who didn’t care about her…it could work. Getting away from their constant watchful judgment might allow her to breathe and create and just be.
Forcing her teeth to release her lower lip, she opened her eyes. She would do what they asked, and she would survive, and she’d be stronger for it. She’d show them exactly what she was made of. Her jaw hardly moving, she spat it out. “Okay.”
She refused to be locked away in the annals of history, forgotten, a mere blip in the music industry…and this looked like her only chance at salvation, like it or not.