“This is…wow. Let’s keep going with this. Maybe do the same with track five as a backup single.”
“Oh, I already have plans for track five.”
Damn.
I need to get out of this room now or I’m going to be breaking one of her rules. I head for the door but then stop. “Oh Amanda? One more thing.”
She hits pause on the music and the room goes quiet.
“There’s a Hardin dinner tonight. Your presence will be required.”
“Like a family dinner? For the big wigs?” She immediately looks embarrassed at her choice of words, but I just smile.
“You’re the wife of a big wig now. That means you’re going.”
She nods and, by the look on her face, I can tell she knows what I mean. My family will be there tonight, and we are going to make an announcement.
I’m not going to lie.
I’m as nervous as she is.
Chapter 14
Amanda
Iknew when I got this job I would be working with bigger artists. Playing in the real game and not just from the sidelines. I hoped that I would have a decent amount of say when it came to what music we would be writing and pitching. That I could let my creative freedom run rampant in the studio the way it does in my head. And I dreamed of using top of the line equipment to execute it all.
But I never imagined that it would all come true and for more money than I’ve ever thought I could make.
I also never thought that I’d wind up in the Hardin family and that I would be going to elite dinners at posh restaurants in NoCa with three month waiting lists and private performances by rising artists.
Yet here we are.
I’ve pinched myself enough times to leave marks on the inside of my thigh and I haven’t woken up. Which means I’m not dreaming.
I will say, though, that I wish I’d had more time to prepare for this.
I have literally nothing to wear.
I own a lot of dresses but most of them look better suited for concert going than cocktail drinking. Between being a rule following, mother figure to my younger sister by day and a music writing alt girl at night I supposed I’m a bit of a walking contradiction, and my closet currently doesn’t make the cut.
Other than maybe the dress I wore in Vegas.
When Kate chose it for me, shoving me with the dress into a dressing room and holding me hostage until I stripped down and walked out in it, I swore that if I did wear the dress it would only be in Vegas and after that, it would just happen to end up in a Goodwill. Not that it’s not gorgeous, it is. But blood red, shapely Marilyn Monroe style dresses aren’t my go-to so I planned on tossing it, along with the memories.
But I couldn’t…
And now, here I am again, pulling that dress on because it’s the only thing in my closet that comes close to looking chic enough for cocktails on the rooftop of Seared Steakhouse and Cocktails.
I am ready to walk out the door when I get a text. My heart does a somersault when I see that it’s from Callum.
Callum: I just pulled up to your apartment complex.
Amanda: Oh. I didn’t know we were riding together?
Callum: We’re married…
I really, really wish he’d stop reminding me.
