Red Lines (6 page)

“Thanks, Bud.”

She walked through the double doors of Blue Steel Records and headed straight for the receptionist seated in a semicircle desk.

“May I help you?” She pulled a headset off her head to address Haven.

“Yes. I’m Haven Owen and I have an appointment with Bruce Fisher.” She tried to keep her fidgeting to a minimum. She belonged here, and the last thing she wanted to do was act nervous in front of Bruce or Carly.

“His office is on the third floor. I’ll let his assistant know you’re here.” The receptionist pointed to a set of elevator doors on her right.

“Thank you.” Haven smiled before turning for the elevators.

The elevator deposited her into a small lobby. A row of multicolored guitars hung on the walls. As she walked closer, she noticed they had all been signed. Before her jaw could hit the floor at the names she was reading, a husky woman with dark hair and glasses approached her.

“Are you Haven?”

“Y-y-yes.” The stuttering was embarrassing.

“Jennifer called from downstairs. Mr. Fisher and Miss Stone are in the conference room. I’ll show you the way.”

Haven followed the woman along the corridor, her eyes widening with each framed silver, gold, and platinum record they passed. Blue Steel wasn’t the largest label, but it was selective of its artists and even more selective about what songs it produced. That approach seemed to work. The label had more hits and sales than Haven realized.

She could hear the faint sound of a piano and guitar coming from the end of the hall.

“Here you go.” The assistant pushed open a door and ushered Haven into a conference room.

She was so stunned to see Carly Stone sitting at the table that she forgot to thank her escort.

“Haven!” Bruce Fisher stood to greet her, his deep voice filling the room.

“Mr. Fisher, it’s so nice to finally be here.” She shook his hand, trying to keep her attention on the man and act cool around Carly.

“I thought we had that settled. I’m Bruce. And this is Carly.”

The blond singer rose from her seat. “Nice to meet you. I’m already a big fan of your songs.”

Haven’s cheeks turned a deep crimson. She was the one who was supposed to say that.

“You don’t know what that means to me. I love everything you’ve ever sung or written.”

“Sit, sit.” Bruce motioned to her. “How’s Evan doing? Saw in the paper he made it back with you last night.”

“Oh.” Haven froze. It was strange that Bruce already knew the details of their trip and that they were in town together. Being a part of the news was uncomfortable.

“If I know Evan, he probably went straight to his fishing hole, right?” Carly smiled. “He loves that place, but I can’t get over the bugs. You know what I mean?”

Haven did her best not to bore holes in Carly’s forehead, but how in the hell did she know about the fishing hole? That was supposed to be his secret spot. This morning she thought she was the only person he had taken there, but that was only an assumption. He hadn’t actually told her that.

She stumbled through the fog that enveloped her mood and mustered a response. “Evan’s doing great. He’s busy at the ranch this morning.”

“I bet.” Bruce smiled. “He’s been gone a few months. Hadn’t heard from him until his agent called about your songs.”

“He said to tell you hello and he’d like to get a beer sometime.” Haven tried to remember if there was more to the message than that, but right now that was all she could recall. Her palms had stopped sweating, but her mouth was barely working. She was trying not to picture Evan and Carly at the fishing pond.

“I’ll have to give him a call.” Bruce smiled, and she tried to imagine him and Evan playing football together in college.

“Is he really going to do
Red Lines
?” Carly piped in. “He would be incredible. Can you imagine?”

“I-uh-I don’t know.” Somehow, the conversation had become Evan-laden.

Bruce opened a folder in front of him. “
Red Lines
? Yeah, my girlfriend read that entire series. He’s thinking about that one?” He chuckled. “So, let’s get things moving. I have another meeting in about twenty minutes.”

Haven was relieved the focus had shifted back to the real reason for the meeting.

“Sounds good to me, Bruce. I’ve got studio time booked for the afternoon.” Carly placed her phone next to her on the table.

“Haven, here’s the thing. We love the songs. We’ve been looking for something that could bring in the female audience.” Bruce spread a few charts on the table.

Carly rolled her eyes. “If you haven’t noticed, the radio is dominated by guys right now. It needs more girls like us.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Haven was cautious with her response.

“The girl side of the story. That’s what’s not being written right now, and it’s definitely not getting played on the radio.” Carly sounded impassioned.

“Oh, ok.”

“I think what Carly is trying to say is that Blue Steel is trying to make a push to bring the female demographic back into play. We can’t put that all on her shoulders. She needs help, and your songs seem like the starting ground to bring someone else in who can write about what girls want to hear without pushing away the male fan base. Our research team has some great numbers on the market trends.” He pointed to the charts on display in front of him.

Haven had never considered her songs girly or female-centered. They were the words that hit her in the shower or when she was working behind the cash register. They were just her words. Her feelings. There was never an intention to reach a demographic. It was always only about the lyrics.

Bruce continued. “What do you think about you and Carly teaming up to give Blue Steel this edge? Really push the girl power or whatever you want to call it?”

“We’re not calling it
girl power,
Bruce.” Carly giggled. “But seriously, Haven. I think you and I are coming from the same place. We could do this. Give the guys a run for their money.” The blonde winked.

Haven nodded, still confused. “Sure, absolutely. Sounds great.” She had a sinking feeling that she was swimming in waters that were way over her head. She knew nothing about numbers, fan reach, or radio stats. This was supposed to be about the lyrics.

Twenty minutes later, they had agreed on a production start date and Carly had insisted Haven be there when she recorded the first track. Working with Carly and Blue Steel was going to require that she be in the Austin area for at least a month, longer if the songs took off.

Her father had discussed helping her move, but she had yet to bring the subject up with Evan. She was committed to a four-day trip. Only forty-eight hours ago they were broken up. Moving to the same town was a talk they needed to wade into.

She slipped into the backseat as Bud held the door open for her. She was glad the drive to the ranch was a long one. She had more to think about now than ever before.

E
VAN DIDN’T
realize so much had been left undone in his absence. He did take off without an explanation or a plan in place, so he had to take responsibility for the state of his affairs.

He tossed a stack of bills in his mail bin. There were scripts, contracts, and unsolicited agent resumes cluttering his desk. Word was out that he had fired Allan, and there were enough go-getters brave enough to blindly forward their work history.

He hoped to God today’s interview would be the first and last. He didn’t have time for this. Things were piling up. They had piled up. He needed someone on the front lines running the show.

Sometime today, he needed to talk to Anna about the Carlson Foundation and find out what kind of shape it was in. She was the one person he had complete faith in. His big sister had never let him down.

Marta stood in the doorway. “Sir, there’s a call from the gate that your three o’clock appointment is here.”

“Tell them to send him up. You can bring him back here when he arrives, Marta. Thanks.”

“Certainly.”

He would know in ten minutes if he could work with Jeff Colt. Evan didn’t consider himself judgmental, but in his first exchange with the guy, he would know whether they could work together or not. This wasn’t just any position on his staff. This was
the
position.

When he first started in the business, he had a manager and an agent, but it didn’t take him long to figure out those two people had to work completely in sync with each other at all times. To smooth the edges and uncomplicate life, he morphed the two roles into one and hired a mega agent who could handle the managerial part of his life.

“Sir?” Marta poked her head in the door. “He’s here.”

“Send him in.”

Evan placed a set of scripts on his desk and shuffled the files together to meet Jeff Colt.

The agent extended a hand and gripped Evan’s firmly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Carlson. I appreciate the meeting.”

“Likewise.” Evan pointed him to a leather sofa and took the opposite seat. Jeff came to the meeting empty-handed. “So tell me a little about your background. What got you into this business?”

Jeff cleared his throat. “Well, to be honest, I wanted to be a sports agent.”

Evan laughed. “Is that right?” He kicked his ankle up and rested it across his knee.

“Sure is, but the more I was involved, the more I realized I was promoting the celebrity side of the athletes, so why not go ahead and work with celebrities?”

“Good point.” Evan had a few friends in professional sports, and other than where you saw them play, there wasn’t a lot of difference between what they did and what he did. “I’m sure you’re current on my situation,” he continued. “I’m looking for someone who can handle the press, advise me on what’s happening out there, and mainly keep this shit out of my life.” He held up this morning’s newspaper.

Jeff nodded. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your media circus. Looks like you have a few problems right now.”

“Sure do. If I hired you, what would you do about them?”

Jeff leaned forward on his knees. “Honestly?”

“Of course. I don’t need anyone else bullshitting me.” He was anxious to hear what the agent had to say. “I’ve had enough of that already.”

“It mainly depends on you. Are you in or out of the movie business?”

“I’m taking a pause.” That was the best explanation he could produce.

“Well, that’s not going to work.”

“What do you mean?” Evan sat up straight.

“Ambivalence doesn’t help you; it’s only going to hurt. If you want out of the business, you need to retire. We can put together a press conference, whatever you want, but you need to make an official statement saying that you are no longer seeking films and you are riding off into the sunset.” He paused. “Or, you get on this popularity horse and ride it into making your career bigger than you ever dreamed possible. You are the number one talked about male actor right now. That horse is out there waiting for you. The sky’s the limit on how far it can take you.”

“Are you talking about
Red Lines
?”

“Yes and every other top-grossing box office script sitting in front of a casting director. You could have your pick of any of them if you commit to
Red Lines
.”

“But I haven’t talked to a damn soul on that set.”

Jeff shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. The author endorsed you, and she wrote the screenplay. She wants you. Social media wants you. And from what I’ve heard, Emmy Harper wants you too.”

Evan slapped his knee. “Dammit. I need to get away from Emmy, not get back in that trap with her. I knew she wasn’t going to drop this.”

“Look, I don’t know what your personal story is with her, only what I’ve read, but she’s America’s sweetheart and she spun your love story into something epic. Do you have any idea how many magazine copies her
Vogue
interview sold?”

“I don’t care about magazine copies. I care about staying out of them. I value privacy.”

Jeff smiled. “You realize you’re a movie star, right?”

Evan glared at him harder than he intended. He didn’t need one more person telling him how impossible it was to have both worlds.