Chapter Two Adam #2
Eleanor glares down at the photo on her phone for another beat. Then, abruptly, that glare shifts to me. “This is all your fault.”
Even though I had the same thought, I find myself getting defensive. “How do you figure?”
“Because you’re here,” she yells. “I have loved Dempsey’s music for years, I know what they need to take it to the next level, and I was way more focused on them and my pitch and watching you to make sure you didn’t pull any bullshit, so no, I did not notice the signage above the restaurant door—sue me.
If you hadn’t come to Vegas to fuck with me, I wouldn’t have been in the position to make that mistake. ”
Oh man, I am way too hungover to handle being yelled at right now.
Especially when she’s dead wrong. I did not come here to fuck with Eleanor.
I came because my mentor asked me to. Billy has known me pretty much my entire life—he was my father’s old manager, and he gave me my first break when I was a sixteen-year-old, smart-mouthed kid.
I owe him a lot. So it was a no-brainer to chase the lead when he tipped me off that Dempsey was looking to make a huge switch—new label, new publicist, maybe even a new manager.
Billy told me to focus on signing them, not to worry about putting in a word for him as a manager.
But I know it could be great for Billy if it does happen.
He’s had a rough go of it lately, especially after the incident last summer.
The DUI was bad, but made worse because he had a celebrity in the car with him, so of course TMZ picked it up.
Since then he’s gone through treatment and is sober, as far as I know, but he lost a handful of clients in the aftermath.
Something like this would really help turn things around for him.
And if I bring Dempsey on, that alone could be enough of a leg up for Billy because they know he and I work well together.
But none of this is any of Eleanor’s business.
“I came here because Dempsey was going to be here,” I say simply.
“And you knew damn well they were meeting with me. You somehow heard where we were having dinner—and don’t think I won’t figure out where you got that information—and you decided it was a perfect opportunity to swoop in and work your bullshit machinations to poach them like you poached Maya.”
See, this right here is why Eleanor and I have never become friendly. She thinks she’s in a league of her own. Even back when we were both bottom-feeders at the label, she acted so entitled. Like she shouldn’t have to pay her dues, or actually earn her way up the ladder.
Eleanor may see my being here as a personal attack, but the truth is it had nothing to do with her.
Yeah, I knew the band would be having dinner with a rep from another label, but I didn’t know that rep was her, and it’s like I told her—nothing is official until it’s official.
Just because Eleanor got an in with Dempsey first doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be allowed to throw my hat in the ring.
I shake my head with a dry laugh. “First of all, they’re not your band. You haven’t signed them. And you’re not going to sign them, because I can offer better terms.”
“You don’t even know my terms,” she says tightly.
“Second of all,” I go on, watching her nostrils flare when I don’t acknowledge her point, “I didn’t poach Maya. I simply won.”
“By playing dirty.”
Oho, that is fucking rich. Everything that went down between her and Griffin Hastings when he was an executive at the label, and she’s accusing me of playing dirty? I round the bed, closing in on her. “Are you really going to stand there and pretend you’ve always played by the rules?”
She holds my gaze, even as her jaw tightens. Her expression is hard to read, becoming more closed off with each passing second.
An itch crawls up my back, just out of reach. I roll my shoulders and look away first. Hastings has nothing to do with this. I’m not going to throw their relationship in her face so I can gain the upper hand in a stupid argument.
I scrub a hand over my hair and sigh. “Look. I don’t exactly remember how it all went down last night. But I don’t think either of us were dragged down the aisle against our will.” What I vaguely remember is laughing. A lot. “Maybe the whole thing is a joke, anyway.”
Eleanor holds her hand up again in response. “We are wearing wedding bands, Adam.”
Well, yes. There is that. “What I mean is, we don’t know if this is even legit. We need to figure out if the marriage is legal before we freak out or start tossing blame around.”
“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “So we’ll go to the chapel and find out.”
Since I am still missing a sock and in dire need of a shower and to brush the taste of bad choices out of my mouth, we agree to take forty-five minutes to get our respective shit together and meet back up to head over to the chapel.
Which should be plenty of time, given that a peek out Eleanor’s window reveals my hotel is right across the Strip.
Hopefully, showering and peeling these godforsaken contacts off my eyeballs will clear my head enough to check in with work before we meet back up too.
This shitstorm couldn’t have come at a worse time; I was planning on getting some work done this morning.
I’ve been swamped ever since the promotion.
I have two other contracts in negotiations, not to mention an A-list artist session to set up before the end of next week, the budget for which hasn’t even been finalized yet.
Not that I’m complaining. This is my dream job; it’s everything I’ve worked for since I was sixteen and got my first internship shadowing Billy.
I’m not throwing in the towel because Eleanor called dibs, or whatever. That’s not how business is done.
I double-check that I have my phone and wallet, and then pull on my shoes—which feels supremely weird given the whole missing sock situation—and head for the door. I’ve just stepped into the hallway when Eleanor stops me.
“Adam?”
I turn around to find her hovering in the doorway. “Yeah?”
Her gaze is contemplative, like she’s debating asking whatever it is she wants to ask. “Who told you about the meeting?”
Not for the first time, facing off against Eleanor feels like a game of chicken. Like hell am I going to flinch first.
But I do hesitate for a moment. I glance down the long, ruby-carpeted hallway, then back to Eleanor. Barefoot, she seems much smaller than I ever realized. Almost vulnerable. Given the way she’s looking up at me through her lashes, I get the feeling that’s exactly how she wants to come across.
I lean forward and brace my forearm against the doorframe. “Listen… I know honesty is the foundation of a healthy marriage…” Her face hardens and she tightens her grip on the door. “But seeing as neither of us actually remembers the wedding, I think I’m gonna keep that one to myself.”
I barely manage to move out of the way before she slams the door in my face.