“Hello to you, too, Jackie. I’m great, thank you,” I joke with a smile. Jackie is all business, all the time, and I can rarely resist the urge to poke at her a bit. “These are shoes. Brown ones. Peep toe?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she says, an irritated look on her face as she guides me to the elevators. “But those are not the shoes I picked out for you.” I lift a shoulder in a half shrug.
“The ones you left didn’t fit. Too big.”
“So you just picked out your own?” Jackie asks, clearly irritated. I roll my eyes at her dramatics.
“I have an entire closet of shoes. I’m an adult who can choose her own shoes, you know.”
“It's…” she starts, then sighs and shakes her head as if I’m a child she has to calmly redirect. “It’s fine, but I’d prefer we stick to the plan. We have to stick to the brand, Willa. It’s crucial.” I don’t remind her that these shoes are the same boring brown asthe others or that I really don’t think a single streetwear shot of my shoes is really going to make or break my career.
The elevator doors slide open as we approach, and when we step in, Jackie presses the button for the top floor before they slide shut once more. Once the elevator starts moving, the shorter woman turns to me, a relieved sigh leaving her lips now that we’re closed off from the cameras down below, and a smile on her lips.
“Morning, my girl, how are you?” This is my favorite version of my manager, the sweet one who feels almost motherly to me, the one I’ve known almost my entire life, the one who’s been at my side since the beginning.
Jackie found me when I was barely seven, performing at a children’s pageant my mom had signed me up for. At a young age, I was desperate to perform, and despite being a single parent, my mom was more than willing to feed into it, signing me up for everything and anything. Community plays, chorus groups, singing lessons, dance classes, and pageants. Any chance to show off her daughter.
I’d chosen to sing as my talent, and I don’t want to toot my own horn, but even then, I was good and could capture a room. Jackie had been there by a stroke of luck, and after she sought me out. She told my mom she’d seen something magical in me, that she knew a few people in the industry, and wanted to see if they’d be interested in my trying out for a few parts. She gave Mom her personal cell number—she loves to tell this part of the story, adding that she didn’t even have business cards yet, she was so new to the game—and told her to call her if they wanted to talk more.
A week later, my mom and I sat in an office and signed a contract for Jackie to become my talent agent. After that, I auditioned whenever I could fit it into my school schedule. I landed small parts, commercials, and extras, and even a fewsmall roles, but I loved it. Within a year, we’d moved from our small town to LA so I could take on more auditions, and Mom quickly acclimated to the role of my manager.
When I was nine, I got my big break, a role on a family sitcom as the cute, quirky daughter, and became a fan favorite. But it was five years later, when I was fourteen and was cast in a large kids’ television network’s tween dramedy and got the chance to sing, that my career blew up. Four years after that, I released my first album and never looked back. Once I was of age and done with acting, Mom stepped down as my manager, retiring early and handing the reins to Jackie.
Through it all, Jackie has been my rock, the one always in my corner to cheer me on and make sure things move smoothly, and to make sure my career continues to grow.
“I’m good, Jackie. How are you?” She puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into her, giving me a side hug.
“Same old, same old. Nailing down the details for your next album release. Are you still on track for recording in November?” My stomach churns, but I hide my discomfort behind a shining smile.
“Absolutely.” She looks me over for a moment, but then the elevator dings, the doors slide open, and both of us step out.
We walk right past the receptionist, Jackie leading us through as if she owns the place. I give a small wave to the receptionist, who smiles gently, despite glaring at Jackie. It’s not unusual, since with her take-no-shit attitude, she often rubs people the wrong way. I try to offset that by being as kind as possible, and I hope we manage to balance each other out.
When I enter the meeting room, I try to mask the confusion on my face, as Jefferson Sterns is sitting beside Leo. Jefferson gives me a wide, friendly grin, while Leo barely even acknowledges our entrance. Some would find it rude, but I’m used to it from the brusque man.
Leo Sinclaire has been my publicist for years now, ever since he suggested my fake relationship with his client, Riggins Greene. After the scheme worked so well, it took my next album to triple platinum and skyrocketed me from arenas to stadium tours. Jackie reached out to him to ask if he’d be interested in working with me full-time. He’s a stoic man, always looking rather irritated, but he’s amazing at his job and, despite working in PR, has never made me feel like I’m selling my soul for my career.
His boss, Jefferson, though…
“Thank you both for meeting us today. As you know, the last album did absolutely spectacularly,” Jackie says, avoiding any small talk as she opens her folder and begins going over numbers, ratings, and the reception of the previous album and the subsequent tour.
“Now it’s time to talk about the strategy for the next album,” Jackie says, and I nod, knowing that is the purpose of this meeting. “We’re looking at a May release with the first single being ‘Are You Mine?’ Ideally, the album announcement would be in January.” I nod, knowing all of these details already. “The next relationship should begin sometime in the fall; we’re just waiting on final contracts.”
“Who is this one with again?” I ask, unsure but not unsurprised.
“Chris Hill,” she says, and I nod, remembering the headshot she showed me a few weeks ago. Dark hair, broody eyes…an actor, I believe. Another bad boy for me to reform.
“He’s an actor who is about to be cast in a women’s fiction movie as a loving, widowed single dad. Currently, he’s been out breaking hearts, getting drunk, and partying, so we’re hoping being seen out with you will boost his public perception to better fit the film’s messaging,” Leo says, folding his hands over his folder.
It will. We all know it will. That’s how it works, after all. It’s what I do, after all.
I date Hollywood’s biggest scandals and reform their image in the media. While I’m at it, I collect inspiration for my next album, which the public will be waiting for with bated breath, desperate to get a bit of the inside scoop of my latest relationship and subsequent breakup. At the end, my faux-beau has a bit better standing, some of his misdeeds forgotten, be it a DUI, fighting in public, or being a menace on set, and I have something to keep my fans interested.
After all, no one wants to hear love songs from someone who has never actually been in love.
“In the meantime, I’d love for you to keep a low profile, really build up the intrigue before the big reveal,” Leo says, and my eyes widen at the suggestion.
“You want me to hide?” I ask, shocked. Jackie’s jaw tenses, and I wonder for a moment if she knew about this or if she’s just as surprised as I am.
