Chapter 35
Keira
When Holt enters the conference room, my nerves propel me to my feet.
He thrusts a hand in my direction as he eats the distance between us. “It’s good to see you again, Keira.”
I drag in a shaky breath and stare up at the tall man adorned in an impeccable navy-blue suit. He towers over me, like my boyfriend.
For our meeting, I opted for a sleeveless red dress that hits me below the knee, along with a tapered white blazer, which I matched with a pair of expensive red sole heels with an ankle strap—a gift from my boyfriend—and a chic designer handbag also in white.
Taking in this elegant man, I mentally pat myself on the back for opting for a more put together look.
“Good morning, Holt.” I shake his hand. “It’s good to see you, too. It’s been a while.”
“Since London.”
“A lot has happened since then,” I say.
His eyes brush the length of my body. “You don’t say.” A smile tugs at his lips.
I was unaware of Holt Christensen’s success as a rock god until my boyfriend partnered up with his younger brother Beckett. Holt hung up his bass to step into the shoes of music executive. From the sprawling building I’m in, he’s crushing his second career.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he says. “It’s one of those days.”
“I’m sure you must be busy, which is why I’m so surprised you were able to meet me at such short notice. When I called a couple days ago, I didn’t expect to be standing in your office so soon.”
“Are you kidding me?” His ocean-blue eyes glee with mirth. “Keira Weatherly calls, you better believe I’ll make room in my schedule to meet with her.”
I blush. “I’m not sure I can live up to your expectations.”
“There are two video clips of you singing trending on the internet, gathering hundreds of millions of views as we speak that say otherwise,” he says.
“Okay, I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I’m no fool. I’m sure there are others courting you. I want to be the first,” he says.
I’m humbled and honored.
“I’m not going to pussyfoot around, Keira. Your raw talent caught everyone in the industry by surprise. It’s such a contrast from your days with Lucky Break.”
“From the look”—I brush my hand over my short blonde hair—“to the type of music… it’s like day and night.”
“That’s why you’re here today. Let’s talk about the journey that allowed the world to hear the beautiful voice you’ve been hiding.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Please, sit down.”
“Thank you,” I say, dropping back in my seat.
He sits in the chair next to me and swivels it so he’s facing me.
“I see my assistant took good care of you.” His eyes drop to the cup and plate in front of me. “Is your latte cold? Do you want a refill?”
“No, thank you. Your assistant brought these…”—I point to the coffee and half-eaten donut—“not long ago.”
“Good. How do you like the donut?”
“Oh my God. It’s insane. I swear, it’s the best donut I’ve ever tasted.”
“I’m a little partial, but I agree, they’re the best,” he says.
Holt’s ocean-blue eyes are a deeper shade than Rhys’s, but equally mesmerizing. They both wear their dark brown hair a little long on top.
“There’s a lot about Lucky Break on the internet,” Holt says. “There’s also quite a lot about Chelle. She seemed to be the one who got the most press… not always for the right reasons.”
“It was always a three-way love-hate relationship between my best friend, the fans, and the rags. The months preceding her death, the press, and social media were intent on going after her.”
“The tragedy surrounding your two group mates resurfaced because of your surge in popularity,” Holt says. “I’m sorry about your best friend.” Sincerity shines bright in his eyes.
“Thanks for saying that.”
“Since it’s sometimes difficult to tell between real and fake news, why don’t you fill me in?”
“Okay.” I launch into story mode.
The downside of the media buzz is I can’t escape my past life. A couple days ago, it came colliding full force with my current life.
First, Joey contacted me to warn me my old record company was hunting me down.
I knew I couldn’t dodge the bullet forever.
I took my courage in both hands and made the difficult call.
They’re demanding the balance of the money I owe them in one shot.
According to my SCORE Yours contract, I won’t see a dime for another few months because things weren’t supposed to launch with the speed of a rocket.
I could ask Rhys to loan me the money, but I’d hate for him to think I see him as an ATM machine. This is my mess. Not his.
Second, a number of British rags are on a witch hunt to fuel Chelle’s haters’ insatiable appetites. No thanks. I won’t be part of that. Things might’ve been sour between us in the end, but I won’t be a traitor to her memory.
“Without Flint Guthrie, we would all still be oblivious to your incredible voice,” Holt says when I finish my story.
I beam with pride.
A compliment like that coming from a guy like Holt means a lot.
“Flint gave me wings to fly,” I say.
“I love the way you framed it,” Holt says.
“I owe him a lot.”
He nods. “You know my background as a bassist?”
“I do. You’re one of the best.”
“Thank you.” He bows. “I may be wearing a suit these days, but at heart, I’m still a musician and an artist. My mission with Ritual of Rhyme Records is to shine the spotlight on kickass talent and make sure they’re treated with respect.
I know firsthand what it’s like to be screwed over. I never want that for my artists.”
“Rhys speaks highly of you.”
“I understand your hesitation…” I expect him to continue, but instead, he looks me in the eye.
“You have a deep, smoky, soulful voice that begs to be heard. I want to be your ally. Plain and simple. Lucky Break was a great steppingstone, but the poppy tunes didn’t showcase you as a vocalist with a mean set of pipes. ”
His frank talk is refreshing.
The execs at my former record label would never entertain this kind of conversation with an artist, regardless of their success.
“I never had the confidence to believe I could go there.”
“Your voice is there,” he says. “You’re the poster child for the next sensation in blue-eyed soul music.”
“Oh.”
“You have a world-class instrument.” My eyes widen at his words.
“You make people feel. If I close my eyes and listen, I can note every nuance of emotion in your voice. You also possess a gift for tone, something I don’t believe can be taught like technique.
You either have it or you don’t. And you, my friend, have it in spades.
I was a few minutes late for our meeting because I was finishing up with a guy who’s dying to work with you.
He’s sitting in another conference room in this building, waiting for the green light. ”
I frown my surprise. “Who are you talking about?”
“Bridge Peterson agrees with me—”
“Wait. Did you say Bridge Peterson?”
“I did.”
My eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “As in the most coveted vocal coach in the industry?” He must be talking about another Bridge Peterson.
This cannot be happening. When I was living in LA, I couldn’t even breathe the same air as Bridge Peterson.
The idea of working with him is surreal. The man is a hit maker.
“The one and only,” Holt says. “Like the rest of us, he watched the video clips in awe.”
“He wants to work with me?” I point at my chest.
“He’s been on my case since yesterday. He’s relentless. Thanks to him, Vickie Sky’s career exploded.”
“Oh my God, he’s behind Vickie Sky?”
She’s one of the biggest artists on the planet right now.
Holt nods. “By improving your technique, you’re set to become one of the defining voices of your generation. I believe it. So does Bridge.”
I’m floored.
And incredulous.
And speechless.
And freaked out.
“You don’t see it—I guess I should say, you don’t hear it,” Holt says when I’m still staring at him. “You’re a phenomenal alto singer with a rich voice, Keira. You’re characterful, emotional, powerful, and raw.”
I’m not used to this much praise, but dear God, I’m lapping it up.
“You signed a bum contract when you became part of Lucky Break because you were desperate for fame. Those reality singing competitions make it look easy and set unrealistic expectations. It’s only when you sign on the dotted line that reality slaps you across the face.
I’m offering you full transparency. I’m also offering you the world on a silver platter, and the chance to become a legend. ”