Page 28 of Mr. Perfect

“Of course not!”

“Then McAllister didn’t see it.”

“He said he did. He used it to threaten me last night. Said he’d blast my gossip board all over work if I didn’t take back my resignation.”

“He’s lying. What is the name of the board?”

“Work Bitches and Other Cunts.” We both burst out laughing now. “I know, I’m terrible, but…” I have no excuse.

“Am I in there?” Adeline asks.

“Of course not! Don’t be silly. I love my celebrity clients. Even that dumbass Brutus has grown on me a little. OMG, I almost killed him yesterday with a peanut butter sandwich. It was not even on purpose, I cross my heart.”

“Jesus, yesterday sucked.”

“Right? What do I do?”

“Well,” Adeline says, “I’m not the best advice-giver on the planet, which is why I always come to you. But I’d get that phone back and erase the whole message stream. Just press that little delete button and get rid of the evidence. And then you shove that resignation in his face and say goodbye.”

I nod as the waiter comes asking for drinks. We order two mimosas and split an order of French toast. “Then that’s my plan. I need to get into his office and find that phone.”

“Well,” Adeline says, pressing her index fingers under her chin and giving me a devious smile. “That plan has been dealt with. On to the one we’re really here to talk about.”

“Adeline, look—”

“No,” she interrupts me. “You look. You were the one who told me to walk away from my last label and strike out on my own. Indie, you said, right? It’s all about being indie. So I took your advice, and do you know what happened?”

“Of course I know,” I say, smiling. “Four number one hits in twelve weeks. More than two million songs sold, more than a million new subscribers, and seventeen million dollars. But—”

“No buts, Ellie. We made a deal.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready.”

“You’re ready to quit though?”

“Yes.” I nod. “Definitely. Stonewall might not have accepted my resignation, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t really resign. I’m outta here in thirteen days. No exceptions.”

“Then push publish,” Adeline says.

“I need a plan first. Some kind of release schedule or something.”

“Bitch, you work for the biggest fucking entertainment network on the planet. You know every one of the producers on—how many shows do you guys manage here?”

“I don’t know. I lost count.”

“Plus bloggers and YouTubers. All you have to do is go ask for help and everyone will be happy to pitch your release. If I thought professional people looking for a coach would listen to me, I’d pitch you to them. But sweetie, I can get you eyeballs but I cannot get you the right eyeballs. These people here, they can and they owe you. Don’t walk away without asking for a favor.”

“I don’t want to use my position here to get exposure, Adeline. It makes me feel dirty.”

“How many times have you come through for them? When guests canceled? You pulled out your phone, made a call, and that spot was filled.”

“But that was my job.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve their help.”

I make a face as our French toast is served.

“Just think about it,” she says as we dig in and eat. “And even if you don’t ask for help, you have to put it out there. Push it out of the nest and let it fly. Don’t wait for someone else to create your success. Isn’t that what you told me?”