Chapter Seventeen
Rosalie
“I LOVE YOU, ROSE!” A woman in the front of the crowd shrieks as her hands reach past the stage. She startles me, and I take a step back before security swoops in and forces her back onto the main floor of the dining room.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, thankful for her enthusiasm but also terrified of being touched by someone I don't know. Charlie is one thing, and it isn't anything against the people who come out to my shows, but this is one fear I think will take time and effort to overcome.
To ease the woman’s desperation to claw her way past the security guard, I make a heart with my hands before blowing her a kiss. She screams louder, bouncing on her heels as she shakes her friend beside her in excitement. They wave to me animatedly, and I smile as I wave back.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight!” I say into the mic before shuffling off the stage.
Charlie intercepts me right away, two security guards trailing behind her as they bring me to the back office. My best friend has a gleam in her eyes as she instructs me to sit behind Damion’s desk.
“What’s going on?” My eyes bounce around to the three people in the office with me.
Charlie makes a fanning motion with her hands, overflowing with the urge to tell me something big. “Dad finally got a top dog producer out to your show. He was in the audience tonight, and he wants to talk to you.”
My mouth falls open as my heart slams. “No way…”
“Yes way!” Charlie claps her hands.
I swallow, tucking into myself slightly. “What if he didn't like it? Maybe I wasn't my best tonight—”
Marvin, one of the guards, chuckles. “Are you kidding me? With a crowd like that,” he throws a thumb to the office door, “he would be an idiot not to pick you up, kid.”
Nerves circle my gut as we wait. Charlie is practically radiating positive vibes and excitement, and meanwhile, I feel like I could sink into the damned ground.
When the office door finally opens, I bolt upright in my chair as my mouth fills with saliva and I have to give myself a mental pep talk to not vomit on the music producer.
Mr. Marcus walks in, a dazzling smile on his face as he’s followed closely by another man in his early forties.
This newcomer carries himself with a quiet authority, his scrutinizing dark eyes scanning the room until they land on me.
My stomach flips at the look in his gaze, like he's seen so many trends come and go that he's seasoned beyond belief.
He gives off the aura of someone who doesn't fall for quick trends or fads. He’s the real deal in every sense, and it makes my skin prickle with the sense of something major on the horizon.
“Rosalie Beckett, I presume?” The man asks, his voice hard and unforgiving.
I stand from the desk, tucking my hands together in front of me. “Yes, sir.”
He frowns, causing his thick brows to draw close near his bald head.
“You’re far too docile, but that's easily fixed. I’m Baxter Crest with Starlight Records.
Marcus here told me about you, and I had to see for myself.
I’m impressed with your stage presence and vocals, Ms. Beckett.
Have you ever considered signing a record deal? ”
I shift subtly, a little uncomfortable with his comment on me being ‘docile.’ “I’ve considered it…”
He nods. “Do you have a manager?”
Charlie sweeps right in, offering her hand to the producer. “Charlie Green, manager.”
He shakes her hand, lifting a brow. “This is your kid, Marcus?”
“She is,” he says with a smile and a wink at his daughter.
“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Mr. Crest says formally before motioning for everyone to take a seat.
“I’ll be quick and upfront. Your name has grown rapidly in New York, and I see something bright in your future.
Starlight Records is prepared to offer you the deal of a lifetime.
Within a year, if your brand is showing promise, there will be far more than simple arenas and small-time gigs in your future. What do you say, Ms. Beckett?”
Charlie gives me a secretive thumbs up, vibrating in her seat. All eyes trail to me, and I feel the pressure.
“Um,” I mess with my fingers under the desk as my neck heats. “Would I be able to finish college?”
Mr. Crest nods. “Of course. Juilliard offers online courses in case you begin traveling. I would never stand in the way of your education, but it will be a full workload if your career takes off.”
If my career takes off.
Mr. Crest isn't promising something lasting, and he's making that known.
My climb to success is going to be up to me in the end, and if I don't put forward the effort, I won't reach the peak. He’s offering the tools and resources I need, but it’s my own design.
I have to prove that this is what I want.
After all these years, I'm finally being given something. It’s right in front of me, and I want to grab it with both hands.
I'm tired of being the poor girl with a traumatic past. I’m ready to turn the pain into something transformative.
I’m breaking free of it all and signing my fate to something I believe in. Myself.
“I want to do this,” I say, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Where the whole world once sat is now replaced with the air of something different and exciting. It’s new beginnings, and I can't contain my smile.
Mr. Crest nods. “I’ll have the contract drawn up and sent to your manager.”
“Let me give you my information,” Charlie says before handing off the email she created for my stage presence.
“Once you receive the file, we expect an answer or a request for revisions within a week. It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Beckett. Can't wait to hear from you and your team.” Mr. Crest says before standing and shaking hands with Charlie and me.
My muscles tense at the skin contact, but I force myself to smile through it as goosebumps prick my arms and a cold sweat breaks out on my neck. “You’ll be hearing from us.”
Once it’s just Charlie, Mr. Marcus, and me closed in the office, my best friend and I scream, jumping up and down as we embrace each other.
“Oh, my god!” Charlie shouts, holding tightly to me. “You fucking did it!”
Mr. Marcus smiles fondly at us. “Congrats, kid. I knew you had it in you.”
Tears dot my lashes as I squeeze my best friend to me in a crushing hug. The gratitude I feel is overwhelming, and I sniffle into her hair as we hug.
“Don’t cry!” She says, rubbing a hand across my shoulders.
“It’s happy tears,” I take a deep breath. “Thank you. Both of you.”
“Don’t thank us, kid.” Mr. Marcus says. “You did this all on your own.”
That isn't the whole truth, and I fully plan to pay them back one day for all of their hard work. I owe them so much more than I can begin to comprehend. They gave me a new future, and I want to pay it back in any way possible.
We celebrate by getting a table on the main floor, where Mr. Marcus tells us stories about his time working for various celebrities. The atmosphere is so light that I'm not even rattled as one of the servers drops off a handwritten note for me from one of my fans.
It isn't until I look down at the message that my world stops, and the breath skates from my lungs. My hands start to tremble as I grip the note tightly. Everything around me blurs as my eyes pass over the message.
You look so pretty when you aren't broken and bruised, but I think I prefer you asleep.