The monster was peeking out its head, rising in her chest, the beast that fueled her lyrics and caused her to perform all the behaviors these people referred to as “stunts.”
That same monster had her fuck up royally on stage sometimes on purpose, but never as bad as last night. And that was why she was here instead of packing her bags to get back on the tour bus.
But she pushed it all down, because she didn’t dare say a word. Anything she said could potentially make this situation worse than it already was.
Finally, the bald man wearing a dark suit sitting directly across from Mal said to her, “Glad you could make time in your busy schedule to join us.”
Mal glanced at her briefly, his cold blue eyes almost dismissing her. Turning to the silver-haired man, his voice had a chill she’d heard only once or twice before. “Look…this is Raine we’re talking about. You know as well as I do that last night was just a blip on the screen. Her fans expect her to pull stunts like that. Ultimately, though, you know she delivers the goods. Last night,” he said, turning to Raine and nearly boring a hole through her eye sockets, “will not happen again. And wasn’t it you,” he continued, turning his head to face the blond-haired man. “who said there’s no such thing as bad publicity?”
The blond-haired guy didn’t respond, instead looking like he’d rather be anywhere than in that room. Not only did the man refuse to speak, but he looked down at the paper in front of him as if to say to Mal, Don’t pull me into this.
But the silver-haired man in the dark suit, the one who seemed to be running the show, said, “Have you happened to look at any of the comments online?”
“That’s what I mean,” Mal insisted. “People are talking about her. It makes her relevant and current and keeps people curious. You just can’t buy that kind of publicity.” She didn’t know if Mal was right, but, as usual, he was doing his best to convince everyone that he was. She risked another glance at him. At one time, she’d found him good looking, with his dark hair slicked back and the way he always wore a dark blazer atop a snug long-sleeved t-shirt to show off the work he’d put into his pecs. All he was missing here in Los Angeles was the sunglasses.
But she no longer found the man attractive. At times, she found him repugnant—but at least right now he was fighting for her future.
Raine found she was having a hard time concentrating, because they weren’t asking her what she thought should happen. As usual, they were making decisions about her and for her without any regard as to what she wanted, as if she wasn’t even in the same goddamned room—and, as they continued talking, Raine clenched her fists so tightly that the knuckles grew white. And then, as the meeting continued, she felt like she couldn’t even feel anything anymore, almost as if she were having an out-of-body experience. It was strange how calm she became in that moment.
It allowed her to focus.
A thin man wearing glasses at the end of the table nearest her slid a copy of the paper that everyone else had been looking at.
What the fuck was this?
She considered saying something, anything—but she knew it wouldn’t matter. In fact, it could make things far worse, like spraying gasoline on a fire She’d been here dozens of times before. What she wanted didn’t matter—unless it came out of Mal’s mouth, and even then, it depended upon the whim of the suits. And she knew whatever was happening was already in motion. There was nothing she could say that would change it.
Quickly, her eyes scanned the document as her shoulders dropped. These fucking assholes were in the process of cancelling all the remaining tour dates? If the fans did hate her for what happened last night, that wouldn’t even compare to her not honoring her obligations.
But before she could even ask or demand explanations, the silver-haired man began talking again. “The tour is over—and we’re pressing pause on the next album as well.”
What?! If she’d thought cancelling a month of tour dates was bad, it couldn’t even compare to not releasing her next album. They knew she already had all the songs written and polished, more of what her fans loved. How could they do this? They hadn’t even asked for an explanation or a promise to “behave” like they’d demanded in the past.
Mal started dickering with the suit, trying to get him to compromise, while Raine took it all in, biting her lower lip.
They were killing her career right in front of her eyes, and all she could do was watch.
And the beast inside grew, pushing against her breastbone, filling every crevice inside with a red-hot rage that consumed every atom. She wanted nothing more than to just disappear in that moment, because she could hear the words behind what they were actually saying: She was a brilliant artist, but her star burned bright and fast. She couldn’t handle the pressure or the fame. She was too young. She was too much of a train wreck. She’s beyond helping…and it’s best to just let her go.
Raine felt even more anger as she realized they didn’t hate her. No, not at all.
Instead, they pitied her.
No. The truth was they didn’t really care. She was nothing more to them than a cash cow, and they could always find another. Overnight, they believed, she’d become too much of a “liability” to warrant continuing to reap the rewards of her art.
And they were done.
That hurt even worse.
But as they continued talking around the table, Mal trying to get them to give in a bit, Raine felt the monster hide back in the pit of her belly where it came from, replaced by something else. And she wasn’t sure how to handle the next emotions that washed over her, because they were ones she tried to avoid. She felt a sense of shame and humiliation, emotions she thought she’d figured out how to handle—and, realizing she hadn’t, the monster inside tried to bloom again. But it was defeated.
Mal and the silver suit continued talking—but there was no heat to what should have been a raging argument. Instead, it was cold and unemotional, as if they were two surgeons operating on someone’s heart, the thousandth patient in a row, so blasé because they’d done it so many times that they didn’t seem to care that they literally had their patient’s life in their hands.
It was just another fucking day.
And she was about to become a washed-up has-been nobody.
That was when it struck her—a cold, hollow feeling: fear. What the hell would she do? Her heart began thudding in her chest as she realized this could be it, the end of the road, and it hit her like a bullet train, causing her brain to go silent.
