Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“Will do,” Destanie called as I turned and headed for the small place I considered a respite. It was off the kitchen and had a fantastic view of the hills, even if they were currently brown and parched from the ongoing drought here in Southern California. I’d brought a couple of patio plants home from Trader Joe’s six months before, and they’d climbed up the privacy screen that separated this unit from the one next-door, creating a lush backdrop. I liked the opulent feel and clean lines of my apartment, but I supposed in some ways I was still a farm girl, because the untamed beauty of climbing vines and natural vistas brought me a sense of peace when nothing else did.
“Emily.”
I turned to see my manager smiling, stepping through the sliding glass doors and onto the deck. “Leon.” I approached, and he took both of my hands in his, giving them a warm shake. “Thank you for stopping by. I would have come into the office.”
“No, I was heading to another meeting across town and your place is on the way,” he said, glancing at the ivy. “Also, this is great. Especially since I’ve been sitting in a boardroom for most of the day.” We both took a seat at the four-person glass table. Even though the sun was setting, the heat of the day hadn’t quite burned off yet. But it was comfortable under the awning that covered the space. Leon sighed, gazing out to the hills for a moment, his eyes lingering on the silvery lavender sky. I turned toward it as well, the horizon a shade I didn’t recall ever seeing before. How was it that I’d witnessed thousands of sunsets in my life, and yet one could still stun me? “Do you ever forget there’s a world out there beyond boardrooms and recording studios?” he asked.
I smiled, and it felt like the first real one all day. “Sometimes,” I admitted.
He cleared his throat, seeming to come back to himself. “So, listen, Emily,” he said, tapping his open palm on the table for a moment as he studied me. “I’ve been ironing out the contracts with several of the team members joining the tour, and I wanted to talk to you about a few of their suggestions.”
“Oh, okay.”
He reached in his briefcase and removed a stack of papers. “I’ve approved all of these. They just need your signature. Take a few days to read them over and give me a call if you have any questions.”
I nodded, sliding the stack of contracts toward me and glancing at the top one. It was for a lighting crew. Just looking at my name at the top of the page was surreal. It was hard enough to believe I had a manager and an assistant, a bona fide team. But now I had a lighting crew! Tasked solely with lighting my show.
And a bodyguard. Now you have a bodyguard.
I pushed that thought aside, clearing my throat and thanking Leon.
“One other thing,” Leon said, and the way he paused made me tense. He looked like he was about to deliver bad news. “I’d like you to lip-synch.”
Confusion made me gape. “Lip-synch? Lip-synch…what?”
“Your show.”
“My show?” I let out a small laugh that died a quick death when Leon stared at me with zero amusement in his expression.
He raised his hand. “I knew you wouldn’t love the idea but hear me out. The dance sequences are extremely vigorous. You’re a new performer, especially in venues like the ones where we’ve booked your shows. There’s a lot of money riding on you, Emily. Millions of dollars. People have made investments in your image, and we cannot afford your vocals not to be everything the audience expects and more. It’s too risky.”
“Isn’t it a risk that I’ll be mocked?” I asked. “That my talent will be questioned?”
“You’re not lip-synching someone else’s vocals, babe. You’re lip-synching your own. Lots of big names do it. It’s practically expected in this day and age. And the professionals get it. Very few can focus on doing ten things at once, and why should you? You’re called an entertainer for a reason.”
I thought I was called a singer.
Leon went on. “We’ve weighed the risks and benefits and determined this is the best way to go. A flop now would be career suicide. This is a business, babe. Business can make the dream feel less shiny, but it’s also what keeps the dream alive. Do you understand?”
I nodded slowly. I understood, I did. And I was scared of risking it all too. Leon Lee was one of the very best in the business. His client list—and their net worth—spoke of a man who knew exactly what he was doing and guided his clients to success. Was I going to be the fool who disregarded what he thought was best for my career? Wouldn’t I be stupid not to take Leon’s advice to heart?