Chapter 9 Aspen
Aspen
What a complete and utter disaster.
Prying into someone else’s business wasn’t something I was remotely proud of, but after Joz left my suite last week in the early hours of Thursday morning, I’d opened my laptop and began researching.
It hadn’t occurred to me to probe into Joz’s past before I signed him.
Presley was different. As an unknown, signing him came with risk, whereas Joz was a megastar with a proven track record, talented, a little sad, incredibly flirtatious.
But as I read through the details of what he’d been through, I understood why he’d acted the way he had over the song I’d asked him about.
Caroline Bevan, a twenty-one-year-old model, and Joz’s girlfriend at the time, had overdosed on heroin, leaving behind a one-year-old child with Down Syndrome.
The details were scant, and I got the feeling Joz’s team had closed ranks, but it was clear that he blamed himself in some way for what had happened to Caroline.
The words of the song said everything about how he felt, although this added context made his guilt even more stark.
From what I’d gathered, they hadn’t been dating all that long before she died.
A few months or so. I wondered if he kept in touch with her son.
Not that I had any intention of asking him.
Privacy was important to my family, and I’d already stepped over Joz’s boundaries, even if everything I’d read was public record.
If he’d wanted me to know about Caroline, he’d have told me. Clearly, he didn’t.
I’d put my laptop away at that point and gone to sleep, but my dreams were filled with a guilt-ridden Joz and a motherless little boy who wouldn’t be quite so little anymore.
Even now, five days later, and back on home turf, I couldn’t shake the disappointment that I’d pried. I should have left well alone. Joz’s private life was none of my business unless it interfered with his contractual obligations.
The intercom on my desk buzzed. “Aspen, Mr. Raynor and his manager are here.”
Excitement flickered in my chest. This was it.
The payoff for my relentless pursuit of one of rock’s hottest properties.
Somehow, my PR team had kept a lid on the news, and the press currently gathering in the ground floor event room had no idea what today’s announcement would be.
I’d arranged for Joz to come into the building via the delivery entrance, where a member of my team would bring him to my office.
There, we’d go over the final details before announcing the deal to the gathered journalists.
“Send them in.” I rose from behind my desk, smoothing my hands over my hips.
Joz entered, an easy smile on his handsome face, and another deluge of shame washed over me. Behind that smile was a man who’d suffered.
“It’s good to see you, Aspen.”
“And you. How are you feeling?”
“Ready to get this over with so I can get into the studio and do what you’re handsomely paying me for.”
“And you, Mike? Any questions?”
“No, but I do have an apology to make.”
Flicking my gaze to Joz, who simply shrugged, I returned my attention to his manager. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Um.” He cleared his throat. “I know you contacted me and my team several times over the past year or so, and I never returned your calls. I should have. I’m sorry.”
Okay. That came out of the blue.
“It’s all water under the bridge. We got there in the end.”
“Yes, but as Joz pointed out, it is his career. My job is to facilitate, not to make decisions without consulting him.”
Ahh, so Joz really hadn’t known about the overtures I’d made, and evidently, he wasn’t happy about being kept in the dark.
“Apology accepted. We’re here now. That’s all that counts.” I motioned to the door. “Shall we?”
Mike went first. Joz waited until I’d passed, then fell into step behind me. The entire elevator journey down to the ground floor, I felt his presence, his aura. The man was larger than life, and he smelled fantastic. Looked great, too.
Back away from the door marked: Big Mistake.
The elevator doors eased open, and I went first, leading the way through the staff-only areas to a waiting room behind the main conference area. Joz and Mike followed, and when I glanced behind me, Joz’s eyes were locked on my ass.
“Behave,” I admonished, but the smile I couldn’t stop from forming ruined the attempted scolding somewhat.
“Can’t help it. The view is too good.”
I swallowed a laugh. The man was a force, and railing against him was a futile exercise that sapped my energy and got me nowhere.
Besides (and not that I planned to tell him this), I was enjoying the attention.
For so long, I’d focused on my professional image, my public face basically a man-repeller.
But Joz had seen past the frosty, all-business version of me to the woman I couldn’t let myself be in a male-dominated industry.
Still didn’t plan on mixing business with pleasure, though. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the perks of this job.
I gripped the door handle and glanced back at Joz with a smile. “Someone in here is very excited to see you.” Pushing open the door, I gestured for him to enter.
“Hey, Presley. How’re you doing, man?” The two men, separated by fifteen years of life and career experience, clasped hands, not so much a shake as locking grips and giving a quick pull. “I heard you signed. This lady here treating you all right? If she isn’t, you know where to come.”
I snorted, even though I knew he was messing with me. Presley, though, missed the nuance.
“She’s been amazing.” He shot a grateful smile my way. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. One day, I hope to have rows and rows of journalists showing up to one of my press conferences.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Joz said. “They’re piranhas, the lot of them.”
“Presley, if you want to watch, you’d better take your seat.” I motioned to the door. “I’ll be out shortly.” I waited for him to leave, then turned back to Joz. “You ready?”
“Sure. I’m a pro. Are you?”
I gave him a look. “A pro, or ready? Not that it matters. The answer to both is yes.”
Joz grinned at Mike. “Told you she was fucking fantastic.”
Rolling my eyes, I left Joz with Mike and entered the conference room.
My gaze picked out Presley on the back row sitting with Adeline, the handler I’d assigned to help him navigate the industry.
I smiled, and he smiled back, gratitude swimming in his eyes.
There was something adorable about a newbie to the industry, before this business knocked the youthful enthusiasm out of them.
I hoped Presley got to keep that exuberance for a while.
As I took my seat, a hush settled over the room. I tapped the microphone to check it was on.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. As the advance press release informed you, I have an announcement to make. This is an exciting time for Kingcaid Music. Our label continues to grow, and while we can’t quite compete with the big guns—yet—we’re heading in the right direction.
Over the coming weeks and months, I will have many exciting things to share with you, but none more so than today’s thrilling news. ”
I paused for effect, making sure every single journalist was paying attention.
“Last week, Kingcaid Music signed an exclusive three-year, two-album deal with none other than rock legend Joz Raynor.”
Joz ambled through the door to rapturous applause. The press was a fickle bunch, but overall, apart from the dreadful treatment he received when Caroline died, Joz was well-liked and highly respected. He pulled out the chair on my left and sat. Mike took the one next to Joz.
Journalists began firing questions, and Joz answered them all with ease. The man was a complete professional, and pride filled my chest at the fact he’d chosen my label. We were minnows in comparison to the bigger labels, yet we’d landed a big fish of our own.
After ten minutes, I cut in. “One or two more questions, then we’ll have to bring this to a close.” I pointed at a guy on the third row who I didn’t recognize. “What’s your question?”
“Gary Tomlinson from Rock Legends,” he said in a broad London accent. “You and Aspen Kingcaid have been spotted a couple of times in a non-professional setting. Is this partnership just business, or are you finally letting yourself move on from Caroline Bevan?”
The journalist’s voice cut through the air like a serrated blade dipped in poison. A deathly hush settled over the room, and my stomach dropped to the floor.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Joz leaned toward the mic, his jaw like stone. “Don’t you fucking dare sit there and turn my grief into a headline.”
No charm now. No deflection. Just Joz, raw and unrestrained.
“You want to ask about the deal? Ask about my music, about the future? Go ahead, but don’t pretend to give a shit about Caroline when all you’re doing is looking for a soundbite.”
He briefly glanced at me, a flicker of something dangerous behind his eyes: pain, rage, grief. Possibly all three.
“I didn’t move on. I survived. Write that in your fucking rag.” He launched to his feet. “We’re fucking done here.”
In the time it took me to blink, Joz had barreled through the door to the waiting area, with Mike right on his heels. I glared at the journalist who’d screwed up my press conference and saw a cocky smirk on his face.
“You.” I jabbed a finger at him. “You’re barred from any future press conferences.” Gesturing to security, I leveled him with an icy stare. “Escort this gentleman out of here.”
Pushing back my chair, I followed Joz. He was pacing up and down, raking his hands through his long hair, a wild, almost unhinged look about him.
“Hey.” I kept my voice low and soothing. “What do you need?” It felt like the right question.
“Need?” He laughed, the sound bitter and not at all like the man I’d come to know these last few days.
“I need to lay that guy out. I need to punch and kick him until he begs me to fucking stop. I need to go back in time and do things fucking differently.” His voice cracked, and he turned away from me. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
He blasted past Mike, who was standing by the door, and almost yanked it off its hinges before he disappeared.
“Fuck.” Mike ran a finger along the inside of his starched white collar. “I’d better…” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Let me.” I raced after Joz but, damn, that man moved fast. I scanned the area. Nothing. He’d vanished.
Presley came toward me, a painful grimace crinkling the skin around his eyes, with Adeline a few feet behind.
“You seen Joz?”
“Yeah. He almost shoulder barged me out of the way. Saw him jump into a car a few seconds ago.”
“Shit.”
“That was… brutal. Could that happen at my press conference?”
I placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t let it get to you. I’ve got your back.”
Although I didn’t have Joz’s back, did I? Not that there’s anything I could’ve done other than pre-approve the questions, and that wasn’t a strategy I liked or followed. Eight years, though, and that scum journalist thought it appropriate to bring up now.
“Thanks, Aspen.”
Presley looked at me like I’d hung the moon. Guess it wasn’t surprising considering I’d given him his big break. It was sweet, in a way.
“I know you’ve got my best interests at heart.”
“I do. And look, your press conference won’t be like that. Although, if you’ve got any skeletons, now’s the time to confess them.” I was pretty sure he didn’t. My team didn’t make mistakes, and he’d come back as clean as most young men would. A misdemeanor. Nothing more.
“No skeletons, although I did steal a bar of chocolate from the local off license when I was eleven. Oh, and a drunk and disorderly a few years ago. Just a guy being a guy in front of his friends, you know?” He shrugged.
“I knew about the D & D, but I think you got away with the chocolate bar.” I grinned. “I’d better go do some damage control. Adeline will take care of you. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
I took off toward the elevators—on the phone to my head of PR before the doors closed. “My office in five. We’ve got a story to bury.”
And if I had my way, a fucking journalist, too.