Chapter Seven
TRISSA
M y stomach churned as I rode the elevator to the executive floor of VS Music Productions. I scrolled through social media, looking for any mentions of Peter. Even though I didn’t immediately see anything of concern, my nerves didn’t subside. This meeting might have been labeled a check-in, but my instinct demanded that I needed to be prepared for anything.
I’d called Peter this morning to remind him about our meeting. The call had gone straight to his voicemail. To say I was feeling déjà vu was an understatement.
The elevator dinged and its doors slid open to reveal the sleek, modern lobby outside Jareth’s inner sanctum. I smoothed down my charcoal pencil skirt, took a deep breath, and stepped out just as a text from Leo came through, letting me know he’d dropped Peter off minutes before I arrived.
Leo needed a raise.
I spotted Peter immediately. His large frame slouched in the leather chair. His sunglasses were firmly in place despite the indoor lighting or, more likely, because of it. Even after yesterday, he still couldn’t stop himself from partying and showing up to an important meeting hungover.
Peter mustered a weak chin nod before tucking it against his chest. The action tugged at my heart. I knew I should be annoyed with him, but all I saw when I looked at him was the same boy I’d grown up with was struggling. His actions were a cry for help. I only wished he’d let me in. I wanted to help.
“I don’t need the lecture, Tris,” Peter groused.
I held my thoughts and opinions to myself. Peter and I had to get through this meeting together, pushing at him before it started would not accomplish that.
“Are you ready for the meeting?” I asked lightly, but in a professional tone.
Peter groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “My head is killing me. Do we even know what this is about?”
I frowned. “No.” I reached into my fanny pack and handed him ibuprofen and a small bottle of water. “Here.”
He gulped it down and chugged the water, then tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trash can, flinching at the noise when it hit the metal bottom.
We needed to present a unified front. I tugged on Peter’s arm, pulling him from the chair so I could drag him to the meeting. We had five minutes until it was scheduled to start, and I refused to be late.
Peter opened the door, stopping suddenly inside the waiting area.
I plowed right into his back. “What the hell, Peter?” I none-too-gently prodded him forward, curious to see what had this effect on him.
I immediately disregarded Hazel, Jareth’s assistant, as the reason. While absolutely beautiful, we’d met her numerous times before, and she’d never caused a reaction like this. Besides the fact that Hazel was also Jareth’s pregnant girlfriend, I was pretty sure that he would not hesitate to maim or kill anyone who looked at her wrong.
I peeked around Peter’s broad frame and stumbled. A striking woman—tall, with perfectly coiffed honey brown hair, and wearing a crisp tailored suit that screamed ‘professional’ chatted with Hazel. She and I were similar in height and body type, but the way she wore those clothes outshone everything professional in my wardrobe. A pang of insecurity made me tug on my off-the-rack blazer and lilac shirt.
Before I could catalog any more of the stranger’s incredible assets, Hazel noticed us. “Hi! It’s so nice to see both of you. It’s been far too long. Come on in.” She circled her desk as I nudged Peter to move. When he didn’t, I walked around him to Hazel, who enveloped me in a hug. She hugged Peter as well, and he awkwardly patted her back.
A throat cleared, its signal clear: Back away from my girl. Peter jumped as Jareth’s imposing figure filled his open office doorway. At 6’4”, with sharp features and eyes that were so dark they were almost black—he cut an intimidating figure. His keen business acumen and reputation set him apart in most circles.
Hazel’s peel of laughter echoed in the room as she winked at us and let Peter go. “Clearly, Mr. Vizier is ready to see you now.”
“Hazel.” Jareth’s tone came out a touch softer than usual. A silent communication happened between them that only took seconds but didn’t waver in its intensity.
She blew him a kiss before turning back to us. “Can I bring either of you something to drink?”
“Water would be amazing. Thank you, Hazel,” I responded, my throat as dry as a desert.
“You got it. And Peter, what can I get you?”
Peter opened his mouth to respond, and on the off chance he was going to be stupid and ask for alcohol, I answered for him. “He’ll have water, too.”
I was fairly certain that Peter was rolling his eyes at me behind his still-present sunglasses.
Jareth led the way into his office. “Peter, Trissa. Good morning,” he said, his tone clipped. “Please, have a seat.”
As we settled into our cushy chairs facing Jareth’s desk, I snuck a glance at Peter. Even hungover, he exuded that same effortless charm that had propelled him to stardom.
Jareth leaned forward, his fingers steepled. “Let’s cut right to the chase. I think we all know why we’re here. Peter, your behavior has continued to be problematic.”
Peter laughed, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head. I winced at his bloodshot eyes, knowing that wasn’t helping to argue his case. “Come on, J. This is the music business; partying is expected.”
I cringed at Peter’s familiar tone. “Peter … ” I cautioned.
Jareth held up a hand. “First of all, it’s Jareth, not J. Second, you’re about to lose me money if you don’t get your fucking act together.”
Peter’s jaw tightened, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles whitened. I resisted the urge to reach out and take his hand, even though I recognized the beginning signs of his temper flaring.
“Losing you money,” Peter scoffed. “The Lost Boys fill the stadiums faster than any other band you have.”
“Filling a stadium and then putting on a subpar show all while the press and tabloids have a field day, you mean. It’s not just a rock-and-roll image, Peter. You’re a liability, and the world sees you as such.”
A wild look entered Peter’s eyes. Music was the most important thing in his life. If Jareth took that away from him, I didn’t know what would happen.
“Jareth,” I began and then cleared my throat. “What can we do?”
“I admit you have talent, Peter,” Jareth said, ignoring me.
Peter’s eyes lit up at the compliment, but I knew better. Jareth had more to say.
“But you are replaceable.”
Peter’s scowl returned.
“However, I have a solution that I think will benefit us all. And let me be clear, Peter, I don’t need you. You need me.”
Peter’s mouth snapped shut. At least he had enough self-preservation this morning to back off. Thank God.
Jareth pressed a button on his desk phone. “Hazel, can you please send in Ms. Darling?”
The door opened, and the woman who had been conversing with Hazel earlier strode in. Up close, she seemed even more intimidating. I’d be blind if I didn’t notice Peter’s demeanor shift. Despite his hangover, his eyes widened, his pupils dilated, and he sat up straighter. A familiar knot formed in my stomach—the same one I felt every time a beautiful woman caught Peter’s attention.
“Peter, Trissa, I’d like to introduce you to Wendy Darling. She’s a top PR consultant and will work with you to rehabilitate your image.”
I drew in a quick breath and banded an arm across my stomach. I felt like I’d been physically punched in the gut. A PR consultant? Why hadn’t Jareth discussed this with me ahead of time? I was Peter’s assistant, for crying out loud. I should have been in the loop before now. Jareth’s gaze swept over me. As much as I tried to hide it, I was sure he sensed my distress.
Peter’s reaction was far more immediate and explosive. “A PR consultant? Are you kidding me? That’s fucking ridiculous.” He stood abruptly. “I don’t need some corporate Barbie telling me how to live my life,” Peter snapped, his eyes still raking over Wendy’s figure even as he spoke.
I clenched my fists, recognizing the wild look in his eyes—a mixture of anger and interest that I’d seen far too many times before.
Wendy, to her credit, maintained her cool, professional demeanor. “Mr. Young, I assure you I’m here to help, not control you. Your career?—”
Peter cut her off, but not before flashing his trademark charming smile—even if it contained a hint of resentment—the one that made my heart ache whenever I saw it directed at someone else. “My career is fine,” Peter growled. “I don’t need your help or anyone else’s. I’m Peter-fucking-Young. I’m doing just fine.”
“Sit, Peter.” Jareth’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “This is not a request. It’s a condition of your continued contract with VS Music Production.”
Peter reluctantly complied, still glaring. Even with his anger, he couldn’t help his gaze from darting to Wendy. Another surge of jealousy coursed through me, hot and bitter. “This is bullshit,” he muttered.
“I might agree, except you showed up to our meeting hungover, and last night, we had to pay off the individual you got into a fistfight with at a bar.”
I shook my head, wanting nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow me. This was the first I’d heard of that incident. Why the hell didn’t Peter tell me? I was always the first person he usually reached out to when he was in trouble.
My jaw clenched and strained as I fought to keep my words to myself.
Peter’s knee bounced wildly. He at least had enough presence of mind to shut up.
“Now that we have that settled,” Jareth continued, “Wendy will be working closely with both of you. Trissa, I expect you to give her your full cooperation. Share your schedules, routines, anything she needs to know.”
I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak. This whole scenario had blindsided me. It was like I was being pushed aside from Peter’s life only for Wendy to step into my place. A rational part of me knew I was being dramatic, but regardless of his current animosity, I saw how Peter had responded to Wendy before he even knew who she was.
I observed Peter’s reactions as Jareth outlined the plan for the coming weeks. Though he still bristled with anger, I could see how his body angled towards Wendy, the subtle shifts in his posture when she spoke. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion—I couldn’t look away, even though it hurt to see.
When the meeting ended, Peter stood abruptly. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he muttered and stormed out.
I shook my head and faced Jareth. “Mr. Vizier?—”
“I’m not replacing you, Trissa. Not yet, anyway.”
I drew in a startled breath. How had he known my thoughts had shifted in that direction? “No, of course?—”
Jareth waved a hand. “I’ll stop you right there. Don’t placate me. Ever. Understood?”
I reluctantly nodded.
“You know as well as I do that he needs more help than you can give him.”
Each word he spoke sliced like a thousand papercuts against my skin.
Wendy sat in the seat Peter vacated. “I’m here to work with you, Trissa. I want Peter to succeed as much as you do. I know the two of you go way back, and maybe that familiarity is what’s not helping.”
I snapped my head up, my shoulders tightening.
Wendy waved her hand, and for the first time, a crack in her facade showed. “I’m saying this all wrong. I’m not blaming you. It’s just that I think Peter needs a heavier hand, and he might deal with that better if it’s not coming from you, since he’s comfortable with you.”
She wasn’t wrong, but I still hated that she’d be working so closely with Peter on this.
“Let me be the bad guy, Trissa.” Even hearing her say it didn’t make me feel any better about my diminished role.
As Wendy detailed what working with me would look like, I could only think about how easily she had captured Peter’s attention. Even through his anger, he responded to her in a way that he never had with me. My chest tightened in jealousy and fear at the very thought.
“I’m willing to work with you, Wendy.” I finally forced the words out. “Peter’s behavior hasn’t proven it lately, but he loves music. I know eventually he’ll understand this is for the best, and will be more open to your suggestions.”
Wendy gave me a strained smile, one that proved she wasn’t convinced of Peter’s acquiescence just yet.
Jareth addressed me. “Trissa, send Wendy any necessary documents today and meet with her by Monday to get the ball rolling and begin discussing strategy.”
I knew to keep Jareth happy. The sooner Peter and I met with Wendy the better.
“I’m sure I can move my schedule around to accommodate a meeting tomorrow.” I inwardly groaned, already rearranging my internal calendar.
“Monday will be just fine, Trissa,” Wendy tapped away at her tablet. “That will give me the next few days to review the documents you send to me and to research Peter’s recent behavior more thoroughly.”
I nodded, the muscles in my neck tensing one-by-one by what I knew she’d find online. I made a mental note to let her know about the situations we’d smoothed over to ensure the press didn’t find out.
I stood and gathered my purse. As I turned to leave, Jareth called my name.
“Yes?”
“You’re integral to Peter’s success.” He steepled his hands, and regarded me over the tips of his fingers.
“Thank you, Jareth?—”
“I wasn’t finished. If Peter’s job is at risk, yours is, too. It’s in your best interest to make sure he starts to cooperate.”
“Yes, sir.” I forced the words past trembling lips. Jareth could destroy my career if he wanted too. And if I wasn’t Peter’s assistant, then who was I? I had a degree in music production that I hadn’t used in years. And I didn’t want to work with anyone else.
Panic lanced through my sternum making it hard to breathe. I needed to get out of here. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the look of pity that flashed across Wendy’s face.
“You may leave now.” Jareth dismissed me.
I forced myself to walk slowly from his office when I wanted to bolt out of there.
With each step, my determination to make Peter see the error of his recent behavior and find a way into his heart strengthened my purpose. Wendy Darling might be a PR expert, and she might have caught Peter’s eye, but I had something she didn’t: a deep understanding of who Peter really was. And if I could get Killian on my side, I was sure I could help Peter see he needed to change.
And that I was the love of his life.
Wendy Darling would not win—not Peter’s career, and certainly not his heart.
I took a detour to say goodbye to Hazel and convince her to give me Killian’s home address. It might have only been twelve hours since we spoke, but I was determined to convince him to help me.
It was time I took control of my future.