The Bet by J.D. Hawkins

Author:J.D. Hawkins
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: JD Hawkins Books
Published: 2016-04-01T23:00:00+00:00

17

Brando

NOBODY TELLS you that girls hit the hardest, but they do. A good hit from a guy will knock you out, leave a nasty bruise, a black eye – but you’ll wake up, heal up. A girl can cleave your heart in two forever with a slap you barely feel, rip shreds out of your soul and leave you a walking zombie. Lexi was the first girl to teach me that.

Shit. This is familiar.

Then the show starts. First the announcer, then the audience, then the music. All muffled through the walls of the green room, but still impossible to ignore. Haley’s music is louder, harder, more exciting than I’ve ever heard her deliver before.

In a trance I leave the green room, passing through the backstage area slowly, the music getting clearer and louder. I remember the time I walked into the studio to find her singing her heart out, a revelation, a turning point. A realization that she was the one, that she’d save me. When I turn the corner to see her from the side stage, the revelation’s different this time. She’s still the one, but she won’t save me.

I feel a hand press on my shoulder with eerie gentleness. It’s Rowland.

“You were right, Brando. She’s going to be big.”

I try to speak, but all I can manage it a short, sharp sigh.

“Forget about our little disagreement,” he says, “I should have trusted you. You’ve worked wonders for Majestic Records tonight.”

I glare at him. “What are you talking about?”

Rowland looks at me, amused and patronizing – or trying to be.

“Lexi’s back in the fold. And now we’ve got another superstar to join her. You’ve just brought in two of the biggest acts this label’s seen in years. I’m thinking that’s at least deserving of a little compensation on my behalf. You can forget about being fired – I’m giving you your own label, under the company umbrella of course, and all the freedom to sign, blow cash, and do whatever you want with it. How does that sound?”

“Haley’s not a Majestic artist. She might not even be mine anymore.”

The words seem to slice me as I say them. I watch her on stage, singing with a passion that seems to infect the whole audience. The most talented person I know expressing herself, it used to fill me with pride seeing her do this – but that was before the fall.

“No?” Rowland says, in a way that makes me look back at him. This time there’s no mistake, the amused and patronizing look is real for once.

“She didn’t sign anything,” I say, an explanation that only seems to make Rowland smile even more. “Our agreement was verbal. Not on paper.”

He looks out at Haley again, who’s reaching the crescendo of the song, wailing melodically, the audience moving to her rhythm.

“Who paid for her studio time?” Rowland says, smugly. “Who paid her musicians to play with her, or Josh for producing her songs? You even used the Majestic account to fast-track her single onto services online.

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