“Well, either way, you’ll find out soon.”
He rises smoothly. To my surprise, Milo takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. For someone so precisely put together, there’s nothing delicate about the way he half-drags me along.
“Mr. Sterling,” Milo announces crisply when we reach the office. “I have Ms. Bismark for you.”
As I step in, I half expect to see Slayer inside. But he’s gone. There’s just Sterling behind his massive desk, the weathered theaters of 42nd Street beyond his windows.
“Ms. Bismark. Please, sit.” He gestures to a white leather chair.
My heart races. This is the moment I’ve dreamed of. Me, Hilary, Lola—all of us. I think of my grandmother’s years of struggle, my sister’s lost future. Maybe I can make it all mean something.
“You’re talented,” he says. “Unconventional, but talented.”
“Thank you.” I try to keep my voice steady.
“But that’s not why you’re here.”
My stomach drops. “It’s not?”
“I have a unique opportunity for you. This weekend in Saint-Tropez, Slayer’s launching his new album—press, industry elite, major publicity.”
I smile and try to control my racing pulse. I knew my big chance would come.
But not so soon. I can imagine theNew York Heraldheadline now:From Central Park busker and part-time dog walker to the Billboard Hot 100.
“Exciting!” I begin, but Sterling’s already speaking.
“We would like you to pose as Slayer’s girlfriend,” he says. “Just for the weekend.”
“What did you say?”
Sterling repeats himself, his smile unwavering.
I let that sink in. “You called me, asked me to come in for an audition, and had me sing. But you don’t want to sign me?”
He shrugs. “Anything is possible. But at this moment, we’re more interested in hiring you for what you might call an acting role.”
He looks at me a long moment. “What I have to offer you now is a generous paycheck for playing Slayer’s girlfriend for the weekend.”
He slides a paper across his desk. The figure makes my eyes widen—more money than I’ve ever had at once. Enough to make a huge dent in my student loan.
I stare up at the record producer, trying to process this bizarre turn of events. “Why me? Slayer seems more than capable of finding his own girlfriends.”
“But they’re not like you,” says Sterling. “The photo of you two taken outside the noodle bar in this morning’sHeraldhas already generated significant buzz.”
“So you want me to be Slayer’s fake girlfriend...”
“You’re not looking at it the right way. You’ll be taking the first step in launching your career.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Look at it this way. The music industry isn’t just about talent, Ms. Bismark. It’s about opportunity, timing, the right connections.”
I remember my grandmother struggling to make ends meet,taking that backup-singer position with Ella Fitzgerald, hoping the connections would lead to something. But they never did.
“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Sterling. But I don’t think?—”
“You have two hours,” he cuts in. “The jet leaves late tomorrow afternoon. Milo has my private number, if you change your mind.”
