Dirty Diana by January James
Chapter Nine
“No, Eric. I’m not putting her up in The Carlyle. She’s going in The Westin. I have to fund her security team as well and I simply can’t afford four thousand dollar suites for everyone. If that’s what she wants, she can pay for it herself, or she can stay somewhere without security.”
I hung up the phone to Cherry Tatum’s manager for the fourth time that morning, and returned to looking at the monthly budget. Slowly, with every cut-throat decision I was making, the red digits were giving way to black. My other acts were taking it on the chin. GingerX wasn’t happy about adding six more shows to her tour but she sucked it up; Painting Panthers weren’t overly happy about doing three station lives in the next two weeks, but they agreed anyway. But Cherry was digging in her heels.
I knew exactly who was on the other line the second my phone rang again.
“Cherry,” I said, forcing my voice to sound uncharacteristically stern. Cherry was used to me being a pushover, doing everything I could to appease her, keep her sweet. At one time, she was the darling of our tiny label, but now she was turning into a liability. She was costing more money than she was bringing in, and that was about to stop.
“What the hell is going on, Diana?” she snapped, with the unreasonable ferocity of a toddler. “First it was the studio; then wardrobe—and you know I need Clarissa; she’s the absolute best stylist this side of LA—; and now it’s the damn hotel? I know Eric has told you about my insomnia; I simply can’t sleep if I’m in a sub-standard room somewhere off the corner of shit street and second.”
I took a deep breath, swallowing all the expletives I wanted to fling down the phone at her.
“Firstly, Brooklyn Beats is unavailable for our budget; Eric has explained that to you. We have access to a perfectly good alternative up-state. If it’s good enough for The Weeknd, it’s good enough for us. Secondly, if you haven’t learned some tips from Clarissa by now, after two years of working together, then she wasn’t worth a cent of what we paid her. And thirdly, if you have issues with insomnia— which, no I wasn’t aware of, that’s your own business—then you need to get professional help. It will not be fixed by softer furnishings and a larger bathroom.”
“Why are you singling me out?” She hissed.
I realized she must have been speaking to other acts and was aware we were cutting back more on her privileges than anyone else’s.
“Because you spend more of our budget than anyone else does. It’s about time I equalized things between everyone. It wasn’t fair, and…” I paused for impact, “and it wasn’t necessarily deserved either.”
Cherry laughed, a low, slightly sadistic cackle. “Oh, and I guess they bring in as many sales as I do, right?”
“They do these days,” I said, glancing at the spreadsheet in front of me. “If you spent less time scouring the gossip columns for any small mention of you and your latest lover, and more time looking at the quarterly report we distribute to every act, you would know this.”
I knew I sounded harsh, but I was simply giving as good as I usually got. This was the way Cherry had always spoken to me, and until now, I’d rolled over like a puppy and done her bidding. That had changed. A new determination had seized me. It had begun the minute I’d received that cryptic invitation to the Decadence Club, and only embedded itself further into my resolve as I explored the more confident side of myself that it—or he—had brought out in me. She was silenced.
“If you like, I can send you the latest report now, along with the revised contract Eric needs to discuss with you, and the measures I’m proposing in order to bring our label back to profitability.”
Still nothing.
“That’s settled then. I’ll ping this over now, and I’ll let the team know to expect you at The Westin on Thursday.”
I hung up the phone and noticed I’d stopped shaking. The tremors had begun as soon as I’d picked up the phone, but vanished as I stuck to my guns. I was changing the way I did business, and I was adamant I was going to succeed.
I returned to the spreadsheet, adjusting a few more data cells until the whole page turned black, then I closed the file and sent it to the board. I wished I was in each of their offices as they opened it. Surprised would be an understatement. It was going to take some serious adjusting to make it work—no more charged-back lattes, no more unnecessary travel or overnight stays, no more cabs, no more subsidized lunches. I meant business. I’d slashed the marketing budget by seventy percent, revised all management fees, halved talent expenses and proposed changes to staff benefit packages. The reality was, if nothing changed, it wouldn’t be long before we’d all be out of jobs. I was asking the team to have a little faith and give a little more commitment in return for healthier career prospects in the long term.
I’d pre-empted conversations before I had them. If anyone didn’t like it—the acts included—they could leave, within reason. But with other indie labels seemingly dropping like flies, and other offshoots creating yet more mainstream manufactured acts popping up in their places, there weren’t many other options available to them. I wasn’t taking advantage of that; I simply knew what we were up against and what we all had to lose.
“Can I come in?” Sheridan tapped at the door.
“Sure, I just reached a natural break,” I said, spinning my chair to face her.
“I know; I’ve been watching. We all have,” she said, in reference to the entire marketing team sitting outside my glass-walled office. “We can practically see the smoke coming from your desk; your keyboard must be on fire, girl.”
I rubbed my shoulders feeling an inordinate amount of tension there. “I just sent the latest budget proposal to the board. If they approve it, I’ll need to hold a meeting with everyone; there will be some significant changes.”
“Sounds intriguing,” she smiled. “So, you’re weren’t kidding around the other night?”
“What do you mean?”
“At your birthday? You were talking about changing up contracts, putting your foot down a little more. With Cherry.”
“Not just Cherry,” I said, my voice firm. “The changes I’m proposing will affect everyone. You and me included. Not everyone will like the changes, I can guarantee.”
“Not everyone can handle change,” she shrugged. “But we really need some of that around here.”
She settled into a chair beside my desk. “What has triggered these changes? Is it really just what Jez at Ted’s Bar said to you?”
I could feel a blush burgeoning at the base of my throat. I reached for my water bottle and swallowed back a large mouthful.
“I think that’s part of it,” I replied, unable to meet her eyes. That was the truth. But I couldn’t tell her the rest of it. I couldn’t tell her that spending a night with a complete stranger who’d released every single one of my inhibitions, had made me feel almost invincible. Unleashing my sexual desires had given me a new lease of life. It had reminded me of exactly what I loved and needed to save. My first experience of the Decadence Club had been significantly less than pleasant, but the second experience had made up for it a hundred-fold. The only problem was, I knew it couldn’t be repeated, and already I mourned the only night I would ever have with the most perfect man I’d ever met.
To my surprise, I’d received an invitation for another encounter the following day and I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to accept it. I wasn’t ready to meet another man. It could be anyone and they would never meet the standard I’d now hold them to. The man from the board had ruined it for me. I now understood what Sheridan had meant about everyone after Mr. Italy being a gigantic disappointment. My own experience had spoiled me for good.
“But ultimately, I’ve had four years to make this work, and I have this weird feeling I’m about to run out of time,” I said. “I owe it to everyone—the acts, the team, the public for heaven’s sake—to pull my finger out and make it work.”
“Well, it certainly looks like you’re doing that,” Sheridan smiled. “What’s next on your list?”
“I need to book myself tickets to a different gig every night for the next two weeks—I’ve looked through The Voice and have a list right here.”
Not only that, I needed to keep myself occupied. If left alone, my thoughts returned to the club and I couldn’t afford to waste time mourning the fact I’d experienced something I could never have again.
“And I need to meet individually with every member of the team, update them on the plans. Then I need to drag my sorry ass round the major radio stations and do some groveling for more airtime.”
“Wow,” Sheridan breathed out. “Make time for food, ok?”
“I will,” I said, picking up my cell. “Must crack on.”
Sheridan took that as her cue to leave and snuck out of my office leaving me with my ticking clock and a long list of to-dos. I clicked on Carlos’ name. He was more or less my right-hand man and I needed a few right-hand things doing.
“Carlos,” I typed. “I know you’re heading out with Dree soon. If you pass the Moleskine store, can you grab me a new planner? And if you go past The Butcher’s Daughter, can you bring back the kale smoothie I like? Also, if you see Bernhard from Finance on the way, can you ask him to call me? Oh, and if you get chance to look at Cherry’s contract, can you double check the leave clause? Think that’s it. Speak soon, Di.”
Five seconds later, my phone pinged. It was Carlos.
“Dude. I’m on the toilet. Please advise.”