3. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Scarlett
Ishudder, leaning against the door to my bedroom. The thought of being tied down to one single guy for the rest of my life freaks me out, and it always has.
If there’s someone out there who could make me change my mind about that, I hope I never run into him. It would feel way too much like a trap.
Shivering, I try to push those thoughts out of my mind.
I’m supposed to be working. I seriously need to get my focus back.
Settling on the bed, I pick my headphones back up, but I don’t get around to putting them on.
My phone is starting to vibrate somewhere on the bed.
Where did I leave that damn thing?
I feel around until I locate it under the sheets.
Right. I fell asleep watching artist reels.
There’s something weirdly soothing about watching someone paint.
Hauling the phone out, I cringe when I see who’s calling.
It’s not my last bed-warmer, but it’s almost as bad.
My manager is a real pain in the ass.
The only reason I pick up the call is because she becomes an even bigger annoyance when I ignore her for too long.
I missed her last two calls. I need to take this one.
Sighing, I hit answer and put the phone to my ear.
“Kendra, hey. What’s happening?”
“Scarlett, where have you been?”
“Uh …”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got you now. Do you want the good news, or the bad news?”
Oh God, there’s news?
That’s never a good thing, no matter how pleasantly she frames it.
“Don’t tell me. The meeting fell through?”
“Oh, no. The meeting went well. Simone and Harry loved the song.”
“They did?” I ask, unable to contain the shock I feel at hearing that.
After a hundred rejections, a girl gets used to hearing the word “no” said a million different ways.
The word “yes” feels like an elusive auditory mirage at this point, at least in relation to my work.
“They smell a hit,” she tells me, a hint of uncontained glee in her tone.
She’s pleased about this success. Of course she is. She’s the one who suggested we try out one of the newer, trendier record companies after the big hitters all turned us down.
“So, what’s the bad news?” I ask, preparing myself for the worst.
“Well, let me get all the good news out first. It’s a five-figure deal, Scarlett, and it gets your foot in the door. You’ll have your first writing credit on a major talent’s new album.”
“My first writing credit?” I sputter.
She tried to slip the bad news right past me, but it still hits like a punch to the stomach.
“It’s five figures, Scarlett! It’s a fantastic offer, and it’s a great way to get your foot in the door.”
“It’s my song, Kendra. I didn’t write it for someone else to sing it.”
“I know,” she says, sighing. “I understand that you don’t want just anyone singing your songs, but the industry doesn’t welcome Betas with open arms. If you’re not an Omega, you’ve got to be patient and take what you can get until you’re respected enough to earn a real opportunity.”
This again.
I could tell her I’m an Omega, but it wouldn’t get me to where I want to be.
It would just make me another Omega with a singing career handed to her on a silver platter.
I don’t want that. I don’t want people to listen to me because they think I’m special.
I want to be good enough to sell out arenas based on my talent, not my designation.
“Turn them down.”
“Scarlett …” Kendra starts. “This is a huge deal, especially for an unknown. Simone wants the song personally. She’s doing a huge comeback tour. The whole world is going to hear that song and love it.”
“It’s not the right deal,” I insist.
“You have to think about this,” she says. “It’s too big of a deal to turn down flat.”
“I’m not taking a deal to sell someone else my song.”
“I told them I would get back to them in a week.”
“You can wait a week to tell them no if you want.”
“They offered fifty grand, Scarlett. I think they’ll offer more if they think we’re trying to cut a better deal, and that’s great, but I need to be able to cut this deal.”
“What are you telling me, exactly?”
“I’m telling you this is it. I’ve been busting my ass to get you a deal, and this is the deal.
Like it or not, this is what we’ve got. Simone’s a big star.
She could really help you, if you can put your pride away and let her have this one song.
It’s one song, Scarlett. Think about that, okay? It could open a lot of doors for you.”
I hate that she has a point, and I hate even more that she’s making me seriously consider her proposition while everything in my body is screaming at me to say “No” and hang up the phone.
“Okay,” she says, when I don’t answer. “I have a client meeting in a few, but I’ll touch base with you at the weekend.
I need a solid answer by Monday so I can go back to Simone and Harry.
If you want to go ahead, I’ll make a few points to get a better deal, and we can celebrate together when the contract is signed. ”
She doesn’t tell me she’s done with me if I say no, but she doesn’t have to.
I’m not dumb enough to think she’ll keep working for me when I turn this deal down.
“Okay,” I murmur. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. I’ll speak to you later.”
She hangs up and I’m left wondering if I’m crazy.
I could tell her what I am, and she’d be ecstatic.
She’d have a whole new plan, and I’d have a deal with one of the big four record companies in the country within a week.
Usually, I’m not left questioning my sanity after a single phone call, but it would be stupid to pretend this isn’t my biggest chance to start pushing my way into the industry.
I know I’ve taken the hard path by deciding to keep my Omega designation a secret, and I don’t regret that choice, but I also hate the thought of hearing another artist bring my work to life for the world to hear.
“Why the hell isn’t talent enough?” I ask the empty room, as if it might have the answer.
It doesn’t, obviously. Silence is my response.
The truth is the world doesn’t care about talent.
If you’re not the right designation, you need to work your ass off to get anywhere close to where you want to be in life.
It’s not fair, and it’s not how things should work.
Too bad there’s nothing I can do to change that.
Now, I have a hideously awful decision to make.
Losing my manager would be like starting from scratch.
Selling my song would feel like ripping out a piece of my soul.
I shut down my editing software and switch off my laptop.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to get any work done.
I may as well go help Cleo with the dishes.