Chapter One Eleanor #2
I glance around the table at each of them in turn.
Curtis is predictably drumming his fingers against the wood, nodding along to the beat inside his head.
I am only half-convinced he’s following our conversation.
Ralph is still eating pulpo with a blissed-out expression, but flashes me a smile once he swallows his bite.
Freddie seems quietly content as well, slouched back against the luxe velvet booth again, the picture of someone who’s well aware the world is his oyster.
I’m not naive enough to think I’m the only rep Dempsey has met with. I’m sure they’ve had plenty of interest, from every major label out there. But for the first time, I let myself believe I have this in the bag.
Our food arrives, and I dial back on the hard sell, and between bites I ask about the songs they’ve written and visions for their next album, what they’d like to do differently next time in terms of promotion.
By the time our plates are cleared, I’m buzzing with endorphins and the exact right amount of wine. I feel like I could sprint all the way back to my hotel, devil shoes be damned.
While I wait for the server to return with my company card, I allow my gaze to wander.
This place is bougie enough to attract a certain crowd—namely, celebrities and people who are willing to pay exorbitant amounts of money for the chance to be in close proximity to celebrities.
I’ve lived in LA for long enough now that I consider myself somewhat immune to the thrill of a celebrity sighting, never mind that it’s patently uncool to be caught staring at anyone famous, so when I cast a look around the room it’s more perfunctory than anything.
Until my eyes land on one familiar face in particular.
Adam Shaw is sitting across the room at the bar.
I look away before he spots me, instinctively slouching a bit in my seat before realizing how unattractive that posture will make me look.
I straighten again and sign the bill with a flourish as soon as it’s placed in front of me.
But even as I make small talk with the group as they finish their drinks, I can’t stop myself from surreptitiously glancing at Adam every few seconds until, inevitably, I look up to find him already watching me.
I tense, half expecting him to immediately come over, but the only reaction he gives me is a slight nod.
As minutes pass and he stays seated, I’m able to incrementally relax.
It’s not easy to ignore his presence, though, especially because I can’t shake the suspicion it’s no coincidence, him being here.
I pull my phone out and shoot off a text to my assistant, Nora:
Any idea why a rep from Exeter would be at this restaurant?
Despite the late hour, she replies almost immediately:
***
I drop my phone back into my bag and down the dregs of my wine. I can feel the faint vibrations of my assistant texting a couple more times, but don’t bother to read her messages, because now Adam actually is making his way over.
As if it’s not bad enough for a rep from another label to be interrupting this meeting, of course it has to be someone from Exeter who was there to witness it when my life blew up four years ago. And of course it has to be Adam, who has already stolen one recording artist from me this past year.
“Eleanor. Long time no see.”
My shoulders tighten, and I consciously force them to relax. To make myself look laid-back and unfazed. “Of all the steak houses in all the towns,” I bite out. I shake the hand he offers, squeezing as hard as I dare. “What brings you to Vegas?”
Adam offers an easy shrug. “Meeting someone for dinner.”
“Small world.”
His hazel eyes flicker around the table, then return to hold my gaze, expectant. This fucking guy.
Six months ago he signed my favorite artist out from under me.
The musicians I work with are probably meant to be like my nonexistent children—I’m supposed to love them all equally in spite of their shortcomings or attitudes or how prolific they are.
But Maya was a gold mine. She was driven, and professional, and she had a sound unlike anyone else out there.
She was my favorite, and I was just as upset as she was that her last album didn’t hit the way we wanted.
But I had a plan. A strategy to make sure her next one would succeed.
Only she didn’t give me the chance—she took Adam’s bait and wouldn’t even come to the table to renegotiate.
Now he’s standing here looking to do it again, and he’s actually going to make me introduce him.
I clench my jaw, then suck in a breath and smile big as I lean back in my seat. “Guys, this is Adam Shaw. He’s an A&R rep at Exeter Records. Adam, this is—”
“You guys need no introduction,” he cuts in to say, already offering his hand first to Freddie, then the others. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Thanks, man,” Ralph says.
“You said you’re with Exeter?” Fiona asks.
“That’s right. Eleanor and I worked there together before she left for Blue Sky. But I’m actually a manager now.”