“Andrea! Why would you do that? It’s your grandfather’s company.”
“I know! I was young and dumb and in love. I wasn’t the same person back then.”
I begged to differ.
“He’s forcing you to sell?”
“Either that or buy him out. And I don’t have the revenue to buy him out, so…”
I took a healthy swallow myself before bopping the glass back onto the table. Through a barely controlled growl, I said, “I can’t believe you’re just going to roll over.”
“What else can I do, Jesse?”
“Fight it. Fight him. I don’t care. Save the company!”
“For who? Me or you?”
“I know you don’t care what happens to me or Noah, but this job is the only thing paying for a roof over our heads. If the company sells, what am I going to do?”
“What areyougoing to do?” she scoffed. “What amIgoing to do?”
Of course, shewouldsay that.
14
Quinn: Walk and Talk
Carrying a cold-brew espresso in one hand and a laundry list of to-dos in the other, Tucker rattled off information faster than I could process. Since calling him minutes after ushering my brothers out the door last night, he hadn’t stopped working. I don’t think he’d even slept. If I’d had any doubts about my new manager’s competence, they were squashed after spending two hours with him.
I’d had an agent in the past, and although I knew agents and managers had different duties, I was shocked by the hands-on approach Tucker took. He was singularly focused on me, acting as if I were his only client. My success, he’d said, was his success. Then it occurred to me… maybe IwasTucker Beckett’s only client. A quick Google search confirmed my suspicions. The asshole had made it seem like I was lucky to get him, when in reality, the guy was hella lucky to get me—and I was no treat.
Turned out Tucker was every bit as much a pariah as I was. After having taken the fall for the highly publicized breakup ofAnyDayNow,no artist would be caught dead associating with Tucker. Except me. Because… well… what did I have to lose? I was already dead in this business anyway. In fact, knowing he was untouchable actually made me trust him more, because under all those layers of confidence, Tucker Beckett needed me as much as I needed him.
As we walked, Tucker talked. “Would your parents be okay having the press conference in front of your house tomorrow?”
“A press conference?”
“Yes, the one you’re going to give as a public statement of apology. We talked about this earlier, didn’t we?”
We’d talked about a lot earlier, but given recent history, I definitely would’ve remembered if I’d been asked to apologize for something. Nowadays apologies were on a first-come, first-served basis.
“Remind me who I’m apologizing to?” I asked.
“Next in Line.”
“Next in Line? Shouldn’t they be apologizing to me?”
“Think of it like damage control. If you apologize first, it makes them look like shits if they don’t accept it. It’s all a game, Quinn, and we want to come out on top.”
“So, basically it’s a non-apology?” I asked, growing ever more impressed with his devious mind.
“Exactly.”
“Well, damn. I like it.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“So, why in front of my parents’ house?”
