Page 33 of The Deviation
The bottom drops out of my stomach and the single sip of beer I’ve had threatens to make a reappearance. “I’ve been working for Rush since I moved to Brisbane over a year and a half ago, but I really have collaborated with teams in Sydney and Melbourne. Plus, I have references to attest to the quality of my work.”
An eyebrow quirks upwards. “But?”
I try to keep the heaviness from my exhale. “Technically, Fifth Circle would be the first client I would manage on my own.” I hold his gaze as I continue. “Ned, your band has the potential to be legendary. I want to be a part of that. I’m ready for this.” All I need is a chance.
“How old are you?” he asks.
I refrain from sighing. “Twenty-three.” Younger than Ned himself, probably, though not by much.
Instead of being upset about my relative youth, Ned gives an easy shrug. “Your lack of age and experience doesn’t bother me. If anything, it works in your favour.”
I frown. “How so?”
“Let’s just say, it puts us on equal footing.”
That’s what this is about. It’s why he chose me. He wants a balance of power, a sense of control. All the things his partnership with the much older Zac would have lacked.
Ned needs to know I won’t hurt him.
“Perhaps it will help if I tell you how I ended up in this business to begin with.”
His second shrug is less relaxed. “Let’s give it a shot.”
I take a long swallow of my beer, plonk it back down on the table and announce with a generous eye roll, “It’s all my sister’s fault.”
Ned snorts a laugh. “That’s not what I expected.”
“Yeah, me neither,” I reply with a grin. “I learned guitar as a teenager. Nothing serious. I messed about with the classics. Pretended to be Kurt Cobain. You know the deal.”
Nodding, he lifts his glass. “Hell, yeah, I know it.”
“So, Hannah was fourteen the day I came home and found her curled up on my bed with my guitar in her lap. The look on her face…” I’d literally watched the blood drain from her cheeks as she gaped at me. “She thought I was going to skin her alive.” I can’t help but laugh, and Ned grins in response. “I showed her a few chords. She picked it up so fast, way faster than me. I gave her the guitar. By then it was collecting dust anyway.”
“You’d quit playing?” he asks.
My stomach tightens. I keep the smile attached to my face. “I worked a lot. Didn’t have much in the way of spare time.” Ned watches me closely, and I clear my throat again before skipping ahead in the story. “It didn’t take me long to realise Hannah was going to be a better musician than I’d ever be. Within months she started to write her own music, and it was so unbelievably good.”
It wasn’t only the way her fingers danced over the strings. She had the voice of an angel and the soul of a poet – complete with an ingrained sadness bordering on melancholy.
“She decided she wanted a career in music. I decided it would be a crime not to ensure her dream came true. But I was terrified of what could happen to her. She was still only fifteen.”
Shadows cloud Ned’s face. “You wanted to protect her.”
“Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “That’s how it started. I learned everything I could about music management. University wasn’t an option, but I studied books, read online interviews, anything I could get my hands on. The thought of being a part of the music industry, someone who helps artists like Hannah get their music out into the world, fired me up in a way playing the music itself never had.” It felt like fate, for me and Hannah to be able to work together to give her a bright future.
Ned wears a baffled expression. “What happened?”
“The better she got, the more she closed up. I encouraged her to put some of her music on social media, start building an audience. I saved money to get her time in a recording studio, bought her a better guitar. But the more I prepared to move forwards, the further she pulled back.
“I think the idea of being criticised and rejected by strangers is too much for her. Which she will be, if she steps into that spotlight.” It’s inevitable. She’ll be loved, but she’ll also be hated. She’ll be praised, and she’ll be told her music is shit. That’s the way it works. “I can’t protect her from that.”
“It’s tough,” Ned agrees. “Putting your heart out there for people to stomp on. It can hurt.” Then his smile slips its leash, and I glimpse the other half of him. “When people do connect, though,” he says in a low, sultry voice, “it’s addictive as all hell.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. “I can tell.”
“Do you think your sister will ever be ready to take that step?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” I shake my head. “But that’s why I fought for a job at Rush when we moved up here. So, if she does decide to take the chance, I’ll be ready.”