Chapter 2
Chapter Two
SIENNA
I was already in my PJs eating a pizza when the publicity manager for the label and a studio exec decided to drop-by for an emergency meeting.
They wanted to work fast to ‘contain my outburst’, all the while showering me with faux-concern and pointed questions about my state of mind.
Anyone would think I’d been on a bender from their reaction, rather than giving a few sullen answers in an interview.
But, I supposed that went against their ideas of how I should present myself.
A good girl is never rude, or grumpy, or anything less than fucking perfect — but I’d never wanted to be perfect, just myself.
Thankfully Louise was already here with me, indulging in our post-show dinner routine.
Cade lurked in the corner of the kitchen, stroking Muffin who purred obnoxiously loudly for him.
To anyone who didn’t know him, Cade cut an intimidating figure with his buzzed blonde-brown hair, perma-crooked nose from being broken several times, and the sheer mass of his large shoulders.
In reality, he was about as scary as a kitten frolicking in a field of flowers.
All bark, no bite. Well, for the most part anyway.
The label's lackeys looked out of place in their formal suits, standing nervously in my lounge that connected to the kitchen in an open-plan design. Cade and Louise, on the other hand, looked nearly as at home as Muffin, who was now sprawled on the counter daintily licking her paws.
My bodyguard Cade had become used to the space, having worked with me on and off for about five years.
He'd joined my team just after Louise, at her recommendation, but hadn’t become a permanent fixture until the last year or so, as a result of my dad’s death.
The media scrutiny had been intense and I’d had some fan encounters that were more than a little intimidating; overzealous fans trying to express their condolences by breaking into my hotel rooms and leaving flowers, or occasionally laying in wait.
Cade helped me feel safer, and he and Louise were the closest thing to family I had left. Well, them and Muffin.
I finished one slice of pepperoni pizza and picked up another, unfazed, when one of the suits in my lounge sighed loudly.
"Sienna—"
"Ms Slade," I corrected and the brunette woman narrowed her eyes. Standing under the counter spotlights, her eyes began to glow with the reflection. She looked almost demonic.
"Sienna," she repeated and I rolled my eyes, cramming as much pizza into my mouth in one go as I physically could.
"The studio is concerned. First you missed your interview with Pop Princess after the show tonight and now you're walking out on Kennedy Zats? And what’s this I hear about you refusing to shoot for Teen Vogue? "
"I didn't miss that interview," I mumbled through cheese and dough. "I just wasn't interested in going. So I didn't."
The man at her side stepped forward, hands raised like he was entering a hostage negotiation, rather than conversing with a fed-up young woman. "We hear you, Sienna. Truly. We're just worried about where all this is coming from. How's your mental health?"
I tried not to snort at his fake sincerity, mostly because I’d have choked on pepperoni.
Cade shot me a look, as if asking if I wanted him to deal with them, and I gave his unspoken offer a moment of actual consideration before subtly shaking my head.
Throwing out the studio's crisis team wouldn't win me any points.
I chose to ignore the suit's last comment as I pushed the pizza box away and took a long drink of water while silence descended, punctuated by the sound of Muffin licking the gray fur of her chest. My breaths were deep and even as I straightened my posture and fixed a blank, unaffected look onto my face. Right now wasn’t the time for emotion, not if I wanted them to take me seriously.
Shutting down any softness in favour of an icy exterior, I kept my tone matter-of-fact and smooth.
"I told you before the tour even began that I wanted to re-brand.
To age up my image and be taken seriously.
" The stool under me squealed as I pushed it back and stood, tucking it back under the marble kitchen island.
"You had plenty of notice, plenty of time to come up with a plan, and now I'm done.
You might be my label, but it's my damn life.
" I stood in front of them, arms folded across my chest, and doing my best to ignore the unserious t-shirt slogan Purrrrrfect night's sleep with tiny cats dotted across the white fabric that possibly undermined my power pose.
The first suit, the woman, opened and closed her mouth, apparently not having more of a strategy beyond bullying me into doing what they wanted. But I was raised by a rock band, literally, and I wasn't easily moved by execs with a stick up their ass.
"I'm doing this, with or without you," I clarified helpfully, looking between their sour faces.
"Your contract—"
"Says nothing about brand image, nor does it give you the right to steamroll my client.
" Louise glared, the look extra menacing thanks to Cade's hulking figure at her side.
"Now, I think it's best you go, before you say something your PR spin doctor can't get you out of.
" She held up her phone and I smirked when I saw it was recording.
The suits spluttered and I ignored them as I walked past, dropping onto the soft pink of my fabric couch and letting a gleeful Cade escort them out.
Louise padded over to me, Muffin in her arms gazing up adoringly, and I didn't protest when she sat down and arranged the cat on her lap. "Are you sure about this?"
Butting up against the label could be disastrous. But there were always other studios, especially for a legacy musician like me. It was a privilege, one of many, that I was grateful for. "I'm sure."
“They’re not going to let this go without a fight,” she warned and I lifted a shoulder in a loose shrug. Louise nodded, eyes distant as she ran her hands through Muffin's thick gray fur, probably already scheming. "If you want to make them blink first, then I think I know what you need to do."