Chapter 2 Not Long Ago #2
Sabine squeezed Jace’s arm sympathetically. “It’s back on the charts, hon. It was featured on that Netflix show a few weeks ago, the one with all those Greek gods disguised as movie stars.”
“Olympia, California. The season finale,” Mo said. “Everyone on TikTok is using it for a soundtrack.”
“How would you know that?” Jace asked, truly curious.
“TikTok is not just for the youths, my friend.” Mo grinned. “You get any royalties on Paloma’s songs?”
“No,” Jace said. “I insisted she retain all her publishing rights, since she was the artist.”
Mo snorted. “Too bad. You’d be making bank.” Then she saw Jace’s pained expression. “Sorry.”
The song wrapped with three descending chords blasting pure energy to prime a live audience to scream and applaud. This evening, though, there was no audience reaction, and the next tune on the playlist kicked in immediately.
Mo put a hand on Jace’s shoulder. “You know what I think? You’re overdue for a new relationship. Have you ever thought about taking a night off from work once in a while to start dating again? After all, happiness is the best revenge.”
Jace knew Mo meant to make her feel better. It didn’t work.
“Can you get a drink with us later, Jace?” Sabine said, thankfully changing the subject.
Jace shook her head. “I have to stay until all the equipment is packed up. It’s going to be a long night.” She looked over to the control desk and saw Louis signaling she needed to get back on headset. “I have to go. We’ll chat tomorrow at your place, Sab. Have fun tonight!”
“Break a leg,” Mo said.
“Merde,” Sabine seconded.
Jace put her headset back on and pressed the call button. “What’s up, Louis?”
“Client’s got a last-minute add to the visuals.”
Returning to the control desk, Jace found Madeleine Grady-Poole, the head of fundraising for the Adoption Academy, expertly coiffed and delicately poured into an expensive evening gown. “Sorry to be your least favorite person at the last minute, Jace.”
“Not a problem.”
During the many years they’d worked together, Jace appreciated how much Madeleine loved Adoption Academy and its mission. Madeleine had also been an advocate for Function Fest and how their expertise was well worth their fees, referring lots of new business their way.
Jace looked at her watch; they had three minutes before the emcee was scheduled to get on stage. “What do you need?”
Madeleine handed her a thumb drive. “Our new board member wants to say a few words. Here’s his title slide. He goes after the CEO, right before I introduce the auction.”
“Anything for the teleprompter?” Jace asked as Louis uploaded the slide.
“He plans to speak off the cuff.”
Jace had worked with Madeleine long enough to have developed an “If you see something, say something” rapport. “That’s not a good idea.”
Madeleine nodded. “It’s a terrible idea—especially since he’s a couple of Sazerac slings in—but he just bought his way onto the board with a massive contribution, so the CEO can’t wait to give him a microphone and a captive audience.”
“Swell,” Jace said as she watched Louis flip through the graphics for the big screen. Madeleine gave her a thumbs-up then headed toward her seat. A minute later, Jace heard the stage manager count down the cue, and the emcee came to the podium to welcome the crowd.
Jace took a chair behind Louis to view the various monitors as they captured video, ran the slides, and cued up the walk-on music.
Things clicked along as planned right up until the new board member unsteadily stepped up to the podium, looking as if he’d indulged in a couple more cocktails. “Here we go,” she muttered.
“Because of Adoption Academy, hundreds of children have found families,” the board member began. “Kids who were so desperate they’d take anybody who wanted be their parent. Parents who couldn’t have…uh, natural children.”
“We knew he needed a script,” Louis said.
“And time to sober up,” Jace added.
“Parents are the first line of defense in society,” he went on. “Protecting their children from harmful ideas. Teaching them values, getting them the kind of education that puts them on the right path.”
Jace crossed her arms. Nothing this man was saying was technically offensive or incorrect, but his word choice had her on high alert.
He pressed on. “And as a board member, it’s my goal to connect these poor children with people who deserve to be parents. People with strong values, who won’t confuse kids about who they are and what they should be.”
Louis cocked an eyebrow.
“And when I say parents, I mean one of each.”
“Shit,” Jace said.
“Men and women parents—together,” he rambled on. “None of that ‘lifestyle’ stuff. No wonder so many kids are confused about their identity. If you ask me—”
“Shit, shit, SHIT!” Jace turned off her headset and shook Louis’s shoulder. “Cut the mic!” she hissed.
“Did Madeleine give you a sign or—”
“CUT THE MIC!”
The microphone went silent, and the room went still. Standing in the shadows, her stomach in knots, Jace watched as the board member tapped the microphone before slurring, “What the fuck is this? Censorship?”
In a sequined flash, Madeleine was on stage.
She pulled the board member close enough to whisper something that calmed him down, then addressed the crowd with all the poise of a career diplomat.
“My goodness, I apologize. We’re having technical difficulties with our sound system,” she announced with a professional smile.
“While we take a moment or two to fix the problem, please join me in thanking Mr. Drew Kensington for his support and commitment to Adoption Academy. We’ll be right back.
” During the applause, she descended the stairs and strode straight back to Jace.
“I need a word with you. Now,” Madeleine said close to Jace’s ear.
“Of course.”
Jace followed her out into a corridor well away from the party guests. Checking to ensure no one was near, Madeleine half whispered, half yelled, “Did you turn off Drew’s microphone on purpose?”
“I acted in the best interest of my client,” Jace said calmly, her arms at her sides, her feet planted.
“How so? You embarrassed one of our CEO’s good friends and one of Adoption Academy’s major donors.”
That broke Jace’s composure. “He was insinuating there’s something wrong with single parents, queer parents—queer kids even!”
“He’s funding our operations for the next three years, Jace!”
Jace watched in silence as Madeleine Grady-Poole drew herself to her full height.
“Per our CEO, Function Fest’s contract will terminate at the close of this evening’s event. Look for an email from my office.” With that, she stalked away.
The rest of the event, Jace sat in the dark at the tech table, close to the crew.
She didn’t leave to go to the bathroom or get a bottle of water, in case she’d bump into an executive from Adoption Academy.
Even once the guests were long gone, she said nothing about what happened to anyone, not wanting to break their focus with so much work to do.
She’d brief Louis and the team once Madeleine’s email had arrived and the situation was official.
In the wee hours, Jace finally drove home, exhausted and heartsick.
She sped north on Woodward in silence, rehashing every moment of the disastrous evening, her anger at Madeleine and the Adoption Academy board member flaring up at every stoplight.
But it wasn’t just losing Function Fest’s most lucrative client for all the wrong reasons that had her in a fury spiral.
As she turned off Woodward past the Royal Oak town line and headed toward her house in Clawson, she couldn’t stop ruminating about one more thing:
How could “Heart Fire” become a hit again without me even realizing it?
Couldn’t Paloma have contacted me to let me know?
Do I matter to her at all?
Did I ever?
Once home, she dumped her bags in the dining room and headed straight to the bathroom, iPod in hand.
Not long after Paloma abandoned her, Jace had created a playlist designed to thrash pain and agony out of her system.
She was going to take a hot shower and play the music as loud as she could without bothering the neighbors.
But when Jace settled the iPod into its docking station, she was greeted by a pixelated cartoon face with Xs for eyes and a frown.
Her iPod was completely, irrecoverably dead.
For the first time all night—for the first time really since Paloma had left her—Jace collapsed onto the floor and sobbed.