I introduce her to the new girl. Betsy gives the poor young woman in blue a withering gaze.
‘Clara works here now,’ I say. I’m sure as hell not letting her go. Even if I have to write her out on the romance front. I’m not questioning how she pulled things together; I just know that she did, and I need that in my life more than I need sex. I can get sex. When you have a recording studio with gold records on the wall and a sports car, sex is simple. Besides, there’s Fitz. Why do I always forget about Fitz? We’re supposed to be engaged. Kind of. Shouldn’t Fitz be taking up more of my brain, more of my bed. I can’t remember the last time…
But the thought gets shut down tout de suite by Betsy, who launches into this whole lecture on how I shouldn’t be poaching people from other departments.
I don’t care. I’ll poach exactly who I want when I want.
‘Sorry, Betsy,’ I say, holding up one hand. ‘We were just in the middle of something here. Like national auditions.’ I turn my attention back to Clara. She looks up at me again with those baby blue eyes that you just want to sink into. ‘Bacon bap, with ketchup, and a black Americano,’ I say before returning my focus to the room. ‘People, we have work to do.’ And I clap my hands, just like Clara did yesterday, or was it this morning? Time seems to be going off-piste. Never mind. It doesn’t matter because everyone nods excitedly. That clapping shit, it really works.
CHAPTER 7
CLARA
The office is eerily empty. The only sound is the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. I glance at the clock – it’s already after 7pm. My stomach grumbles in protest. I should take a break, but I’ve still got two more sheets of hopeful candidates to log.
I sigh and save the file I’ve been working on for the past few hours. Pushing back my chair, I give my aching body a good stretch. By tomorrow, all the auditions will be logged for Betsy in just the way she wants it. Everything will be saved to the flash drive she gave me and entered in the exact format she’d asked for. I’m determined to win the woman over. I’ve been professional all my working life, even if I have been working in the wrong profession. This is my chance, and once Marco is on more of an even keel, I’ll get Amy back in here too. There’s enough work for both of us.
Terry pokes his head into the office. ‘You’re still here, Clara? Jeff and I are heading to Luigi’s for pasta and wine. You should join us.’
I force a smile. ‘Thanks, but I have to finish up. You guys go on ahead.’
Terry smirks. ‘Where have you been all our lives? Did you manage to weasel out of your other job?’
‘Hmm.’ I raise one eyebrow thoughtfully. ‘Not so keen on the word weasel.’ I smile. ‘But yeah, I got it covered at least. There are a few of us on the team. Someone’s always happy to step in.’
‘Well…’ He nods his head appreciatively. ‘Don’t you go stepping out on us now.’ He pauses. ‘I mean permanently, but breaks are fine.’ He smiles. ‘Luigi’s, though… they do a mean carbonara.’
‘Seriously, I’m fine.’ I laugh. ‘Go enjoy yourselves.’ I’ll have a rummage through the studio’s kitchen after they’ve gone. There must be some biscuits still lying around from the auditions.
Terry shrugs. ‘Our loss, but okay.’ He’s about to go when he stops in the doorway, turning back towards me, his features genuine. He’s no longer joking. ‘And thanks, Clara.’
‘Thanks?’
‘You saved the day.’ He points one long, thin finger straight at me and gives me a wink. ‘Star quality. Seriously. That’s you.’
‘Go.’ I laugh, shooing him toward the door, eager to get back to work.
‘Bye!’ Terry and Jeff chorus, the door closing behind them with a bang.
Silence. I breathe out, the tension easing from my shoulders. Now I can finally focus without anyone distracting me. Cracking my knuckles, I dive back into the files, the familiar routine of organisation soothing my frazzled nerves. Terry appreciates me. He really does. This is where I belong – here, in this office, working behind the scenes to help launch new talent into stardom. Okay, so it’s not the total dream fulfilled – I’m not launching myself, but that wouldn’t be possible anyway. Who’s ever heard of a solo singer with stage fright? It just doesn’t stack up. In truth, I don’t want to be out at some fancy Italian restaurant, pretending to enjoy small talk. I’m happy here, lost in the magic of making dreams come true.
The phone rings, shattering my concentration. I could leave it, but that’s maybe not the best thing to do. It could be anyone, maybe even Marco. I grab the receiver a little too quickly. ‘Delagado Sounds, Clara speaking.’ I get a thrill just saying the company name.
‘Clara, it’s Minty!’ my brother’s over-enthusiastic voice booms down the line.
‘How did you get my–’
‘Stan. I saw him down the pub. He told me what happened. Just watch out, babe, you know what those music people are like.’
My brother seriously dislikes this industry. My parents struggled to make a living for so long.
‘It’s fine.’
‘Hmm,’ he grunts. ‘Besides, this is not exactly the best timing.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’ve got a date lined up for you tonight. It’s with a mate of mine.’
