Can't Help Falling in Love (12 page)

    
Reluctantly, Allison wondered,
What
can I
find that will do? We don’t have any hand grenades!
 

    
Sharon
flounced into a leather chair, crossed
her legs, and announced, “I have some bold ideas for this campaign. Tell me
what the two of you had in mind so I can determine if your ideas will work. I
don’t want you to deviate from the direction I want him to go.”

    
The sharp, cutting edge of her comment made Allison dread whatever was next in
store. She had already learned from her two awful confrontations with her that
the two of them were as different as sandpaper and silk. As she fished around
in a waste basket to retrieve a used paper cup for her to use as a makeshift
ash tray, she thought
I don’t like her! Still, I’ve
worked with other people I didn’t care for in the past. I just hope I can hide
my feelings this time and hopefully bite my tongue!
  

    
As she set the cup on the coffee table in front of
Sharon
, Karen again rallied to her defense.
“We’ve done a thorough analysis of his needs and understand the styles driving
the popularity of his band’s music. I think I’m managing to capture the essence
of his appeal quite nicely.”

    
Sharon
responded somewhat crassly, “I hope
you’re doing better than you did with those other photos. We could only use two
from the entire session! I just started to brainstorm on some ideas to present
to him this morning that might be more appropriate than what the two of you
came up with.”

    
“Oh? I guess you’re not the eager beaver I figured you to be. Allison already
has detailed a fabulous campaign with images carefully designed to enhance his
fan appeal. I already know that Allison has her finger on the very attributes
that he most wishes to convey to his fans, and I’m safe in saying that if you
attempt to stray too far from those ideals, Star Records might lose him as an
artist. I shouldn’t have to remind you that regardless of his contract with
them, the band is ultimately responsible for themselves. You haven’t signed an
artist management agreement with him, have you?”

    
Sharon
blew a puff of smoke purposefully in
Allison’s direction and she ignored Karen’s question, choosing instead to turn
the tables on her. She sneered, “Have
you
signed a contract with them?”

    
Allison was incredulous over what she was hearing. “We have an agreement,
probably not as special as one that I’m sure you’ve already got planned! Now
listen here, I don’t know what you mean to achieve, but I know where I stand!”

    
Sharon
looked at her with an expression of
amusement, as if she was watching Shirley Temple throw a tantrum. She inhaled a
deep, lung-filling drag on her cigarette and then practically belched the fumes
again toward Allison. “Phil Samuels and I have known each other for a long
time. Why shouldn’t I have something special planned for his rising new star?”

    
Allison nearly choked from the smoke. Her eyes began to water and she felt
intimidated by
Sharon
’s gutsy demeanor. She now realized by
Sharon
’s comments that she and Phil had
probably been heavily involved in some way or another, an idea as unsavory as
Sharon
’s disgusting smoking habit.

    
Sharon
added, “What Phil and I have is of
primary importance to me. It’s taken me a long time to cultivate our
relationship. I don’t want anyone coming along and spoiling it, Allison
Webster. In fact, I won’t
let
anyone spoil our
plans!”

    
Allison struggled to keep her composure in the face of
Sharon
’s total lack of delicacy. She
retaliated, “I have no plans to disrupt your relationships, personal or
otherwise. As far as I’m concerned, Phillip Samuel’s just another president of
another company. I’m doing work for an artist, who may or may not have a
long-term relationship with Phillip Samuels. Do I need to remind you of Star
Records’ reputation? So far, they’re a small fish in a big sea. I believe this
artist may go all the way to the top, in which case, I’d look for him to
advance to a bigger label with the money and clout to market his work to the
largest audience possible. In the meantime, we have every intention of going
forward with our efforts to prepare him for the success he deserves.”

    
Sharon
flicked her cigarette at the cup and
missed, dropping ashes in a fiery clump on the floor and ignoring the dangerous
mess. “I need someone who’s on board with our team. You seem to harbor some kind
of resentment, despite the fact that you don’t have any contract with him. A
verbal agreement isn’t worth the paper it’s written on!
We
have an iron-clad contract. If we decide
to sell that contract to a larger label, that’ll be our prerogative. I’ll be
involved in any negotiations to that end, so you might as well get used to the
idea that I’m part of the picture, here, now, and forever after. I’m so glad
we’ve been able to clear the air so quickly. We should be able to work well
together . . . so long as we understand each other.”

    
“You mean as long as I don’t get in your way?”

    
Sharon
smiled at Allison’s verbal dart,
withdrew some papers from her purse, and laid them on the coffee table. She
then voiced her next statement with extreme care.
“As long as
you cooperate, Miss Webster.
I’ve brought a copy of the list of
publications I’m getting information on that I expect he’ll be interested in
appearing in. You’ll be wise to fashion your layouts according to their
standards of acceptability.”

 
   “How thorough you are,” Allison said. “I’ll appreciate
knowing, too, which magazines you’re inclined to select as you come closer to
those decisions. It will help me refine my proposals.” No sooner had she made
that comment than she thought,
I wish I could retract that! It
sounds like I’m dying to be of service to her, which isn’t the impression I
meant to give. She’s got me so nervous, and with him in the back changing
clothes just out of earshot! I’ve got to sharpen my wits if I’m to duel with
this woman. She comes charging in here uninvited, plows over Karen and me like
a steamroller, and then expects me to bow to her like a buttercup in the
breeze!
    

    
Sharon
dropped her cigarette in the cup, where
it laid smoldering and befouling the air. She gathered up her purse and began
walking to the door while talking over her shoulder and out of the side of her
mouth. “I’ll let you know. Let’s stay in touch. Help me keep Phil happy. We’ll
be planning to announce the fall lineup of new releases at a huge media
gathering at the Peabody Hotel. We’ve reserved the entire indoor pool as a
setting for a formal, glittering
VIP
party. I’ll be wearing a new
diamond-studded gown by Coco
Chanel
! We’ll send you
an invitation.”

    
She turned the knob and was about to leave, but stopped and looked back. “By
the way, don’t be seen in public with our Wonder Boy anymore. I don’t want his
reputation sullied.”

    
With that cryptic slur on Allison’s character, she flipped off the overhead
lights at the switch by the front door, and left. Since the photo flood lights
were already doused, Allison and Karen were plunged into near darkness. Tobacco
stench lingered like a pall over the entire studio, and a heavy cloud of smoke
hung in the air like a shroud. Allison began fanning the air, stomped out the
glowing ash embers piled on the floor, and ranted, “Oh! That woman! I wouldn’t
be surprised to find out that she was Mussolini’s personal assistant ten years
ago! I don’t know if I can stand to be around her another moment!”

    
“Well,” Karen began, “look at it this way . . . Mussolini was shot and hung
upside down for the entire world to see. As for Sharon Eaton, we can only hope!
At the very least, maybe she’ll fall into the
Peabody
swimming pool while she’s posing in her
diamond-studded
Chanel
gown!”

    
Allison pictured that for a moment and then burst out laughing, and Karen
joined her. They were doubled over chuckling, when Karen asked, “Do you think
‘Wonder Boy’ overheard any of that?”

    
At that moment, the back door opened and he emerged wearing his striking stage
attire. He took one look at the two of them huddled together in the dark
beneath a cloud of smoke and said, “I’ve heard of mood lighting and smoke pot
effects, but isn’t this going a little too far?”

    
Allison and Karen’s photo shoot with “Wonder Boy,” as Sharon Eaton brazenly
referred to
him,
went off without a hitch after
Sharon
had slithered from the studio. When she was
gone, Allison was glad. She had thought she would enjoy working on her new
account. Now, she questioned that assumption.
It all depends on
how often I have to interact with Sharon Eaton!
she
decided.

    
The show must go on, and “Wonder Boy” departed to get ready for another outdoor
concert. Karen stayed behind to develop her pictures of him, and Allison
retreated to the comparative sanctity of her private office.

   
The next day, Allison found herself virtually alone in her office building
where Saturdays were always quiet. The peace and solitude gave her time to
concentrate on specific details in her proposals. She worked diligently, but
found her thoughts wandering.
How could Karen have managed to be
so fortunate to have known him before me? That was an incredible bit of
coincidence. Thankfully, their passion cooled during the time they were apart,
but still, I’d be a lot more comfortable with him if I had him all to myself!

    
The morning passed quickly. Allison did not mind studying the list of magazines
Sharon
had unceremoniously dumped upon her to
review, and she was professionally curious to gauge whether they would do the
band any good. She took time to uncover their strengths and find a way to
integrate them into the overall creative plan, more to help him than to appease
Sharon
. 

    
Outside, a rumble of thunder caught her attention. She gazed from her desk to
the sky, which had turned into a softly churning sheet of gray while she had
been engrossed in the details of her work. Since bad weather had not been in
the forecast, she had not brought an umbrella, and she had dressed somewhat
carelessly in a comfortable pair of washed-out blue jeans, a baggy sweat shirt
from college days, and sneakers. She had avoided applying makeup, knowing that
not even Marge would be in the office, much less any clients, but going outside
and getting wet was not in her plans. When rain began to patter against her
window, she was glad she had thought to grab a banana and an apple for lunch
and toss them in her purse.    

    
She had just peeled her banana when she heard a knock on her office door.
Who
could that be? Karen would call before driving all the way over here.
She rose to go to the
door, but stopped first to survey her reflection in the glass on a large
picture adorning her wall. She shook her head in disbelief.
I
wouldn’t have dressed this way if I had known someone might be coming in to see
me. I don’t like the idea of being alone in a deserted building with someone at
the door!

    
The knock came again, louder this time.

    
There was certainly no way to avoid the unwelcome intruder. She took a big bite
of the banana to fortify her courage, and went up to the door and asked, “Who’s
there?”

    
A virile, masculine voice replied, “Special delivery. I have a special delivery
for Miss Allison Webster.”

    
How
peculiar!
Allison
thought.
Is someone playing another practical joke?
She stood paralyzed with indecision, but
then she called out, “Please leave it by the door. Someone will get it later.”

    
“Special delivery.
I need a signature.”

    
She took a deep breath and opened the door. A startling guitar strum sounded,
and then she heard
his voice
singing the whole first stanza of his
new hit record. He moved out from behind the door and continued singing.

    
“You sound just like some guy on the radio!” Allison coyly cried with delight,
gladly opening the door wide enough for her new boyfriend to come in without
banging the guitar neck on the door.

    
He continued singing as he entered, and Allison followed him into the office,
but when she passed the picture on the wall, she saw her dreadful reflection
again and nearly died. There she was holding a half-eaten banana with the peels
dangling over her hand, her hair pulled back in a stringy slipshod knot, with
her baggy sweatshirt making her look like a member of an overweight exercise
group.