Chapter Two
C hristine’s alarm went off at seven. She grabbed her phone, shut off the offensive noise, and saw she had missed some messages. Julianna and Phoebe had both texted asking if she wanted to have lunch. She texted back yes and got ready for work.
Even after a late night, she was still the first one in the parking lot.
She parked her red Toyota in the lot outside the brick building on Music Square.
She gathered her purse and computer bag, unlocked the front door of the office building, locked it again for security’s sake, and sat at her desk.
Her office was sparse with a desk and office chair, and two additional chairs in front of the desk for when she met with songwriters.
She wasn’t a trinket person, so other than a cup of pens and a coffee mug, nothing but her computer took up space on her desk.
The walls were solid white, broken up by a few framed photos with inspirational messages like “You’re capable of so much more than you think.
” These were her self-reminders to recognize her talents instead of beat herself up.
She opened her email and started reading.
Most of the emails had to do with her being on TV.
Song pluggers weren’t usually seen on television.
They worked behind the scenes, headphones on, listening to song after song after song.
Nobody wanted to see that on any screen.
She weeded through the pleasantries but then got down to work, aiming for the emails that contained songs from writers she had expressed an interest in.
She’d specifically requested that a few new writers send her songs after she saw them at the Bluebird Cafe.
Discovering a talented songwriter before anyone else found them was one of her favorite parts of the job.
She was into her third song when her boss stumbled into her office.
“Rick? Are you hungover?” she asked.
“Define hungover.” He had dark circles under his eyes and his complexion was pale.
“Feeling like crap after having too much to drink. Same definition as it’s always been.”
“I’d say that sums it up. Give me about ten minutes and then come to my office. I need to talk to you.”
“Um, yeah, sure. I’ll be right there.”
Ten minutes later, she knocked on Rick’s door, and he yelled for her to come in. Christine sat across from him. It was never good to be called into the boss’s office. Her eyes darted back and forth. What had she done?
“So, you and Austin Garrett, huh?” Rick said it as a statement and not as a question.
“It’s not what it looked like,” Christine said, having no idea what it did look like. Her voice rose an octave as her vocal cords tightened. Would Rick frown on her fraternizing with a client? What was it about bosses that instantly put people on high alert?
“Whatever it is, it’s good for this company. He’s a rising star and everything he touches climbs the charts. I want you to focus your efforts on finding songs for him. If you have an inside track, we need to use it.”
Christine bristled at the idea of using Austin but then remembered that he wanted her to find him songs, so it would benefit everyone.
“He’s asked me to bring him some next week. I hadn’t had him scheduled in, so I’ll take a bunch home this weekend and listen. There’s an old box of cassettes that I’ve been wanting to dig into. There can be some real diamonds in the rough in those old songs.”
“So true. Songs that were ahead of their time can be relevant to today’s sound. Good call on that. Do you have something to play them on?”
“Actually, I do. An old cassette player that has followed me from home to home. I could never bring myself to toss it,” Christine said.
“Good girl,” Rick said.
Christine cringed at being called a “girl.” Rick was sixty years old. To him, she probably looked like a girl. He went silent but continued staring at her.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“You know the music business has suffered monetarily for the last decade or so. Proceeds have dropped twenty percent annually for more years than I can count.”
“I know.”
“Hit songs used to bring in a lot more money for the songwriters and publishing companies than they do now.”
“Yes, sir.” Christine had no idea where Rick was going with this.
“And let’s not even talk about the pandemic. No live music. Bars, clubs, and restaurants closed down. The public doesn’t realize that all that music being played is licensed and goes toward our bottom line,” Rick said, running his hands through his hair.
“I know. And we’re all still trying to dig out. Even with the government compensation,” Christine said, nodding in agreement.
“I’ve been running the numbers and contemplating making some hard decisions with regards to songwriters and employees. Scaling back. But this, Christine? Austin Garrett? It could turn everything around.”
Christine’s eyes widened. Had Rick just laid the company’s future on her?
She squeaked out, “Understood.” And with a nod of his head, she was dismissed.
Christine went back to her desk. She stared at the wall, her thoughts incoherent.
She shook off the fear and thought about what Rick had said.
She was the one who could turn business around and save jobs, including her own.
She’d always been a non-cutthroat person in a cutthroat business.
She prided herself on not using people to get to the top.
She wasn’t one who left carnage in her wake.
But being tough and being cutthroat were two different things.
Maybe it was time to be a little more assertive.
And if Austin could help her rise through the ranks of song pluggers and keep the publishing company profitable, it would benefit everyone. Including Austin.
CHRISTINE ARRIVED AT HER FAVORITE chicken restaurant.
As far as diners went, it wasn’t much to look at, but the food was great and the service was quick.
Julianna was already there, but Phoebe was running late.
Phoebe liked to make an entrance. And with her long black hair, striking blue eyes, and off-the-charts self-confidence, she always did.
Christine took a moment to look at Julianna.
She was gorgeous—what every young girl dreamed of looking like.
Long, thick blonde hair, shapely legs that went on forever, and a waist the size of most women’s thighs.
Christine caught a glimpse of herself in the window.
She’d gotten used to her body and had learned to appreciate it.
Her thighs weren’t thin, but they were strong.
Her breasts were a bit too big for her liking, but after watching women spend thousands of dollars to get what she had naturally, she’d learned to be thankful.
She had a love-hate relationship with her hair but was trying harder to appreciate her curls.
She’d flat-ironed it to perfection that morning, but it had only lasted until she stepped out into the humid air.
Now, it was so big it needed its own zip code.
She’d have rocked the big ’80s hairstyles.
She used to slouch so she’d fit in with petite women.
But not anymore. She stood up straight, smoothed her shirt, put on a big smile, and walked to the table.
Christine’s relationship with Julianna was the only reason Phoebe even knew she existed.
Two years earlier, when Hit Songs Publishing hired Julianna as an executive assistant, she and Christine found they had an easy rapport.
Julianna’s friend came as a package deal.
Phoebe was not a warm and fuzzy personality.
She was reserved and could be somewhat curt.
Christine had tried to disarm her with charm, but so far, it hadn’t broken through Phoebe’s walls.
She remembered the first time they’d all had lunch together and Julianna introduced her to Phoebe.
“Phoebe? As in the character on Friends ?” Christine had asked.
“Nope, as in Cates. Mom loved Fast Times at Ridgemont High . Long live Spicoli,” Phoebe said, her upper lip lifting into a sneer.
Christine had given her a knowing grin, remembering her own mother making her watch that movie.
Phoebe was a Belmont alumnus. She had interned for a record label, and then they’d hired her for a full-time social networking role. She was brilliant at it.
That first meeting had solidified Christine’s place as Julianna’s friend, but Phoebe was Julianna’s sorority sister and those bonds ran deep. So Christine had learned to deal with her.
“Hey. It’s the lady of the hour,” Julianna said, looking up and motioning Christine over as she walked to the table. “And damn does your hair look good.”
“It’s a curly mess,” Christine said, fluffing it.
“Not even. Your long locks look amazing.”
“Damn. Can you come give me a pep talk every morning?”
“I can.” Julianna’s face was bright, her smile huge. “Tell me everything.”
Christine shrugged out of her black leather jacket and hung it on the back of her chair with her purse.
She’d discovered in college that she looked good in black leather jackets when some hot random guy on campus told her she did.
It wasn’t much of a fashion statement, but ever since that day, she’d felt a sense of confidence when she wore them.
And having confidence went a long way in the music business.
“I was standing on the street corner, looking amazing in my dress, and he said he couldn’t help but stop and ask me to be his date.”
“Seriously?” Julianna asked.
“I may have paraphrased a little. I clearly needed a ticket, so it worked out perfectly.”
“I’m so sorry we couldn’t hold the doors any longer. We begged the security guy,” Julianna said.