I like the confidence in his reasoning. I’m not as experienced as he is, and I realize how far I still have to go to get to his level. “How can you be so calm about a situation you’ve only been in for a few minutes with complete strangers? I’m not so sure it went that well,” I admit as we drive to the hotel.
Evan parks and turns to me with a kind smile. “Did you know that the first time I went after the Jailbirds, I was convinced they would never sign?”
I shake my head. He never went into the details of how they reached an agreement. Everyone knows how Evan met them by chance, but not what happened from there.
“The first meeting was a disaster. They were guarded, didn’t trust anyone, and I admitted they were my first clients. When I left that bar, I was convinced I wouldn’t see them again. But a few days later, we talked again and they said they appreciated my honesty. Over time you’ll learn to read the signals, interpret them, and act accordingly. You’ll make mistakes and learn the hard way, but it’s the only way to do this job. You can go to school as much as you want, but they’ll never teach you how to read people.”
I study him for a while and pause to think about his words. He’s right, which is why he’s now beside me, teaching me this. “I need to reassure the mother that her daughter will be safe, right?”
He winks at me and nods. “See? You learn quickly.”
“Do you think Iris would rent out her apartment above Jail Records?”
He shrugs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask her, but I like the way you’re thinking.”
We get out of the car, and he puts a hand on the small of my back as he escorts me to the porch.
“Do you think we’ll make it to the shower before getting all clingy and sweaty again like last night?” I ask as we walk in and sneak upstairs before the lady who runs this place sees us. We were not particularly quiet last night.
“If you go into the bathroom first and lock yourself in, I might try to resist breaking down the door,” he laughs as he kisses me on the temple.
It’s so odd to feel my heart jump into my throat when he hugs me. It’s not just a matter of feeling good between the sheets—this stirring in my chest has nothing to do with excitement at his nearness—and I don’t know what to make of all this turmoil I feel.
***
The bar where Emma is playing is the kind of place where people come to have fun, listen to good music, have a beer, and eat chicken wings. The rustic wood interior has the casual relaxed feel of a party, like everyone here knows each other.
From what I understand, it’s an open mic night and different musicians will go on stage for half an hour each. It’s a perfect opportunity to see Emma in front of a crowd.
We don’t want to pressure her with our presence, so we sit at a corner table in the back. Looking around the place, I see Emily’s mother leaning against the bar counter, waiting for her drink. I leave Evan on the sidelines and approach her.
Her eyes are fixed on a small group of girls, including Emma.
“Worried she might come to New York?”
She turns and smiles at me, a genuine gesture, less formal than at today’s meeting. “What mother wouldn’t be?” It’s not an accusation, she’s just stating a fact. In her world, all mothers behave in this way. I think she would get along well with mine.
“One who doesn’t care about her daughter’s happiness.” I watch Emma laugh and talk with her friends. She’s a happy girl.
“Would you think I’m crazy if I told you I’d rather have her behind the counter at the grocery store for the rest of her life?”
I shake my head and observe Emma for a few seconds. “No, I’d think you’re a mother who’s anxious about her daughter living in a huge city, thousands of miles from home, doing a job that has no guarantees for the future.”
She smiles. “Shouldn’t you be convincing me to have her sign with you?”
“No, I’m here to make sure you understand what this choice entails and tell you that we will be with Emma every step and help her grow. It would be easier to talk to you about money and dazzle you with luxury and great promises, but we’re not those kind of people. Emma’s happiness is our main concern. We invest in people, in their talent, and it’s in our interest to establish the healthiest possible working relationship. That’s why the Jailbirds left their old record company. They were tired of lying to their fans and living a life that was a lie just to please the big bosses.”
She looks at me for a long moment, then at her daughter again, shaking her head. “She’s never left this town. How can I imagine her getting by in a city like New York?” she asks. The hesitation and struggle she feels are apparent.
“In small steps. Today I heard from Iris, the partner of the Jailbirds’ drummer and my best friend. The building where Jail Records is based is actually one of the townhouses on the Upper East Side. On the lower floors are the label offices and recording studios. Thomas and Iris live above that, and on the top floor is a completely separate apartment where Iris used to live. She told me she’s willing to rent it to the record company if Emma agrees to sign the contract.”
The woman frowns and inhales deeply. “Would your friends help her if she needed something?” she asks me hesitantly.
I nod and smile at her. “She wouldn’t even have to leave the property to record her album. She would live protected within the space of Jail Records and only go out when she feels like it.”
The woman nods and looks at her daughter again. “When you put it that way, the idea doesn’t seem so frightening,” she admits with a smile.
“The real question is: will Emma be happy doing this job? Because if she’s wavering or indecisive, forcing it could ruin her. Her safety, learning to live away from home, and her job are all problems that can be managed by a reputable company, but happiness can’t be manufactured on demand. Emma should only sign if she wants to do this for the rest of her life.”