Chapter 7 New Manager

• [Brielle's POV]
• I stand in the group of auditioners, waiting for the judges to hang the sheet with the results of the audition. Only three of us would be signed to this gig, and the rest would have to leave. With each passing minute, my heart rate increases, and when I think I can’t take it anymore, the list is finally brought out.
• Instantly, everyone rushes forward while I stay back, watching as many burst into tears and then turn and leave. Only once the numbers have grown low enough do I make my way forward.
• Please. Please. Please. I repeat it inwardly, again and again, until I’m standing right in front of the single piece of paper that could make or break my future.
• Holding my breath, I take in the list of names, and when I see mine at the very top, I lift my hands to my mouth to stop the scream of excitement that wants to escape. I did it. I got the gig! I couldn’t believe it!
• This would be my turning point from depending on L to being able to pay him back for everything he ever gave me after my parents deaths. And with this, I would be considered strong and independent enough to stand beside him.
• Unable to keep this to myself, I pull out my phone and take a picture of the list, then send it to L just as a woman with a short blonde bob, wearing a form-fitting dress that showed off her curves perfectly, steps out.
• She carries a clipboard in her hands and looks bored while she lets her eyes skim over me and the other two auditioners that made the cut.
• “Congratulations,” she drawls, turning on her heel. “Come with me so that we can begin the signing process.”
• Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I begin to move while the other two who passed with me—a short brunette with a pinched expression and sharp gaze and a man with blue spiked hair and a pierced face—follow closely behind.
• "Exciting, isn’t it?” The man says in a posh british accent. “I suppose we will be seeing each other quite a bit; I’m Thad.”
• “No one cares,” the woman sighs. “Just because we will be working together doesn’t mean we have to be buddies.”
• Biting back on my need to scold her for being so rude, I put on a smile and then met Thad’s unbothered gaze.
• “Nice to meet you,” I say, holding out a hand. “I’m Brielle; it’s nice to meet you, Thad.”
• “At least someone has manners,” he chuckles, before my phone begins to go off.
• Ignoring the urge to pick it up, I pull my hand back and step into the room we are being ushered into first. Once inside, I take a seat at a round table and wait until the bored woman places a packet in front of me.
• “Please sign the highlighted lines. If you miss a thing, then you will be removed from the company, and someone will take your place.”
• Nodding, I begin to look through everything, being sure to pay close attention to each and every clause before signing my life away. When I finish, I get up and take the packet to the woman.
• “Since you’re done, you will be meeting your manager. Follow me.”
• Not waiting to see if I’m following, the woman starts to move, making her way out of the room and down the hall until we reach a door with a plaque on it that says L. Rogers. Instantly, my heart skips a beat due to that single golden letter. However, I quickly get it together since there is no way that it could possibly be the man who kept his identity hidden from me.
• As I fight with this reality, the woman lifts a hand and begins to knock. After giving three sharp raps, she steps back and waits until the door opens and a man with square-rimmed glasses and a sharp nose appears.
• “Is this her?” He asks, taking me in while I continue to stand back. “Mr. Rogers has been waiting. Please, come in.”
• “You heard him,” the woman snaps when I don’t move. “Go!”
• Gasping, I nearly stumble forward as she places a hand on my back and pushes, then turns and walks away.
• Cursing her under my breath, I straighten myself out and then fix my gaze on the back of the chair in front of me, where I can only assume Mr. Rogers is sitting.
• “Don’t be shy,” the man who opened the door urges. “Go on, go on. He’s been waiting.”
• “R-right,” I stammer, straightening out my shirt, which has risen just a bit. “I’m going.”
• Nodding, the man gives me a thumbs up and then heads out of the office so that all that is left is me and the one sitting in that chair.
• For a moment, an awkward silence begins to fall around us, and I consider saying something, but what exactly do you say to the person that would build your future? Hello? Nice to meet you! Especially when he hadn’t even introduced himself. But I couldn’t just silently stand here, right?
• As these thoughts begin to race in my mind, the chair slowly begins to turn, and when the one sitting there finally comes into view, I instantly feel like fate is fucking with me. Sitting right there, staring at me, was the psycho killer from the previous night. This had to be some kind of joke; why was it him?
• “Surprised to see me, little one?” He asks, leaning forward and resting his sharp chin in his hands while his gray eyes take me in. “Or have you been rendered speechless by my good looks?”
• “Why is it you?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Were you following me?”
• “Following?” He repeats, raising a brow. “Do you think that you’re that special for me to waste my time doing that?”
• Opening my mouth, I prepare to argue, but stop as I work to control the anger that is beginning to bubble.
• “How do I get a new manager?” I hiss through gritted teeth. “One that isn’t crazy?”
• “You can’t,” he chuckles. “I’m all you have, little one; take it or leave it.”
• “Then I’m leaving it,” I snap, turning and preparing to head out. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”
• “Are you sure about that?” He calls at my retreating back. “If you walk out of here, you will owe this company twenty thousand.”
• “Tw-twenty thousand?” I squeak, grasping the door handle. “You’re lying.”
• He had to be kidding. I read through the agreement and didn’t see anything about owing money if I were to leave.
• “It’s a new clause,” he explains. “You must not have read the fine print.”
• “But I did,” I counter, whirling around and calling his bluff. “I read through each and every line. Show me where it says anything about this.”
• “Very well,” he says, pressing a button on his phone and waiting until someone can be heard picking it up. “Martha, be a dear and bring me Brielle O’hara’s contract. It seems that she didn’t quite read through it.”
• “Yes, sir, right away,” Martha responds as Mr. Roger’s leans back in his seat.
• “Great.”