Page 8 of Ravaged By Lust

“Am I talking to Chloe Stoll?”

It’s the biggest producer of music in North America. Mickey Miller of Miller Records. Producer of some of the most famous stars in music for the last forty years.

He’s the one calling me.

Well, technically, his assistant is. I don’t know how Miller Records even got my phone number, but I don’t care.

“I’m glad we’ve been able to reach you. I’ve got some news to share with you,” she says.

The assistant and I talk for a moment. Apparently, the producer has come across my video. How quick of him. I guess it is his job.

“Chloe, get off your phone.” Karen has snuck up behind me. Her sharp voice rings in my ears. “How many times do I have to ask you? I’ll write you up for this.”

I mute my phone and spin around to my manager. She glares at me with such indignation.

“If you’re allowed a made-up cigarette break every hour, Karen, then I can have one life-changing phone call.”

That shuts her up. I return to my phone call.

“As I was saying,” the assistant continues. “Mr. Miller would like to schedule a meeting. When are you next in Los Angeles?”

My mouth goes dry. I don’t say a word. I can’t go to LA; I’m dead broke. I’m always dead broke. I might have to borrow money from god-knows-who to even get to LA. Besides, it’s not my favorite city in the world.

But Mickey Miller wants to meet me?

Even I’m not dumb enough to realize this truly is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“I’ll be there in the next few days. I can send you my details?”

“Message me on this phone number. I’ll arrange the meeting.”

And then the assistant hangs up, and I feel a wave of power flow through me.

Is this really happening?

I turn around again. Karen is still staring at me.

“Give me your phone, Chloe,” she barks. “I’m confiscating it until the end of your shift, and I’m docking your wage for this hour.”

I just laugh then.

I don’t give her my phone. Instead, I take off my name badge and place that into my manager’s open hand.

“I quit, Karen. Enjoy your cigarettes. Everyone knows about it.”

And then I pick up my bag from under the counter and walk out of that shitty store and the job I hate.

I’m overwhelmed with nervousness, but I don’t let that show as I stroll to my car on the other side of the parking lot.

It’s only when I sit in the driver’s seat that I let out the longest sigh of my life.

“What have you done, Chloe?” I ask myself.

For once I’m taking a risk – the biggest freaking risk of my life - and I’m running with it. That’s what I’m doing.

I’ve somehow become viral.

I shake my head. This is unbelievable.