Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Whoooo? Did you get that? An owl says who.
I sent an eye roll emoji. I got it. You need some new material, Ky.
Okay. Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Europe.
Oh my God. Really? I texted with five more eye rolls.
C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’, baby!
*Insert dramatic sigh.* Europe who?
Hey, that’s not very nice.
You’re a moron. Why don’t you save those for Ollie? He loves that shit.
Ha ha. See you tonight.
I stared at his message like it contained a secret code or something. It didn’t. It was just silly…and yeah, I liked silly. I tried to think of a witty response, but nothing came to mind. Which was weird because I was an expert at throwaway lines. I’d learned from the best. I settled for a smiley-faced emoji and put my cell into my pocket when my dad returned to his desk.
“…that should work. Talk to you later. Bye.” He set his phone on his desk and grinned. “Hey! What brings you here?”
“I just happened to be walking by,” I joked.
“Nobody walks in LA…especially not you. What’s up? Are you okay? Is Ollie okay? He was fine this morning.” He frowned as he perched on the corner of his desk. “He was mad that I made him wear his glasses, but otherwise he seemed all right.”
So here’s the thing about my dad. Sebastian Rourke was a really good-looking guy who could be gregarious one second and preternaturally quiet the next. He was six foot three with dark hair and a light beard streaked with gray. He’d been an avid runner most of his life and it showed. His affable, outgoing side gave him an edge in Hollywood. He was known for his intensity and his unwillingness to compromise on his projects, and he could usually sweet-talk others into seeing his point of view. It didn’t always work with Oliver or me, though. We probably confounded him. Well, maybe Ollie didn’t, but I knew I did. Other than eye color and sexuality, we didn’t have much in common. I was short, blond, and fabulous. I stopped making any attempt to fit in with the general population when I was in high school. Dad’s career was based on feeding the public what they wanted. Literally.
“I’m sure Ollie is fine.”
“You’re right. So, what’s up?”
“I need your advice.”
Dad cocked his head and gave me a lopsided smile. “Really? Okay. How can I help?”
“I have a situation.” I opened my arms and gestured animatedly as I filled him in on the disastrous dinner Saturday night and my run-in with Declan at Sandstone. “There’s some kind of mind game spin on a PR move happening here. I can see that they’re playing some angle, but I’m not sure what their long-term strategy is and if it might work in Zero’s favor.”
My father sank into the leather chair next to mine and crossed his ankle over his knee in a deceptively relaxed pose. He regarded me thoughtfully before speaking. “Maybe. Maybe not. You might not like hearing this, Char, but Zero is a write-off or a win on a relatively minuscule gamble at this point. Even for a small label like Sandstone. You’re helping them build their fan base via social media and that’s great, but to be real contenders, they need to go bigger. You gotta go the tried and true route too.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have to get a hit song on the radio.”
“Oh, that’s all?” I snarked.
“Yep. The problem, of course, is you never know what’s gonna sell. That works in every sector of entertainment…movies, music, books, art. You just have to choose the best song, make sure it’s well-produced, and start distributing it. I know a guy who has a contact at ‘I Heart Radio.’ I can see if—”
“No!” I held my hand up to stop him. “That’s exactly what I don’t want.”
Dad furrowed his brow and gave me a “what the fuck?” look. “I thought you wanted my advice.”
“Your advice, not your help. I don’t want you to take over.” I sighed heavily and looked out the window before turning back to him. “It pains me to admit this, but I might be in over my head. You have a lot of experience.…I don’t know how to say it nicely…manipulating situations to get results. I was hoping you could give me a clue with what they might be up to. Sandstone said they were still interested in talking to us, but when they canceled two conference calls this week, I decided to pop in and see if I could get any info. Sneak attacks tend to yield all kinds of tasty tidbits.”
“Is this a sneak attack?”
“Maybe, but it’s the good kind. You love unexpected visits. And you love puzzles. Gray’s in the music business but he’s an artist. He doesn’t have to pay attention to the full picture the way you do. Besides, if I tell him too much, he’ll share it with Justin, and the band will think I’m hopelessly out of my depth. They’d probably be correct, but I’m not giving up. Am I right to think Sandstone is up to something?”