Chapter Seven
Owen
I groaned as I opened yet another file, this one a contract that needed review. I loved owning my own record company, but hated dealing with all the paperwork and the admin work that came with it. I’d already looked through so many documents in the past six hours that I felt like I would go cross-eyed.
My favorite part of owning the company was helping produce the actual music, forgetting about the paperwork, just turning out good albums and helping other artists succeed at their dreams. That was what made the blood pump faster through my veins—not reviewing damn contracts.
I wasn’t sure why I’d avoided getting Bleeding Heart back together as long as I had, but I was thanking God we were about to go back on tour. And I couldn't deny that I was wishing I’d have already given more of the paperwork load to my second in command at the record label, instead of waiting until a week before we hit the road. This shit really wasn't what I wanted to be focusing my energy on.
I closed the document, needing to give both my eyes and my brain a break. I strolled around my office, looking at my shelves, decorated with various items of Bleeding Heart memorabilia. There were tons of pictures from the road, awards, tour posters, and even a couple of framed records hanging on a wall.
Why the hell we ever stopped, I wasn’t sure. I knew part of it was because I was focused on starting the record company, but maybe I should have kept the band up, too. I wondered where we would be now if I’d done so. Still, it wasn't good to dwell on things that would have been or could have been. After all, the past was the past, and it's not as if we can go back and change things.
A buzz came from the intercom on my desk, followed by my secretary’s voice. “Mr. Young? You available?”
“Yes, Aubrey. What’s up?”
“You're due at North Star Agency in an hour. Just giving you a reminder. Also, you never put in an order for lunch. Did you want me to run out and grab you something?”
Just then my stomach grumbled, as if on cue. “No, you know what? I need to get out of the office, anyway. I’ll just head out now and grab something on the way,” I told her. “Thanks, though.”
“Sounds good, boss. Good luck finding someone at the agency!” she said in her chipper voice. I smiled and thanked her again, grabbing my wallet off my desk. North Star wasn’t too far, so I figured I’d walk. Getting a bit of light exercise would be good for clearing my head, and there was a good sandwich shop on the way I could stop at.
Less than twenty minutes later, I was at the sandwich shop. I went inside and headed straight for the counter to order a hoagie. Just as I handed the cashier a twenty, someone let out a squeal behind me. I spun around to see a group of twenty-somethings staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Oh em gee! It’s really you!” One charged toward me, phone already up for a picture. “Can I please get a picture with you? I can’t believe you guys are finally getting back together!” She let out another squeal. I winced, but smiled and nodded, putting an arm out to let her come over to me.
Apparently, Aubrey had gotten our press release out last week. For the past few years, I had been able to come into this sandwich shop with no problem, but putting Bleeding Heart back out in the public light had probably brought had a hand in bringing on situations like this.
The girl came up beside me, hugging me as one of her giggling friends took her phone. I politely hugged the girl back and posed with her as the other girl took the picture. They switched places, and her friend hugged me just as tightly. At one moment, I was pretty sure she sniffed my t-shirt, and it was all I could do not to laugh, although over the years I'd gotten used to this kind of attention from fans and all the weirdness that sometimes came with it. And believe me, there was a lot of weirdness at times. I posed for another photo with her before a few more girls crowded around wanting their pics taken with me.
This went on for a good twenty minutes, and a couple even lingered to watch me eat my sandwich with enthralled attention from a nearby table, giggling the whole time. Instead of annoying me, it made me smile and reminded me just how fun that aspect of touring had been. Meeting the fans had always been great, even if it did get a bit exhausting and overwhelming at times.
I was amazed we still had the number of fans we had, but we had done pretty well for ourselves back in the day. I guess it really shouldn’t have been too much of a shock that some were still following us. A number of our shows for the tour were already sold out, after all.
&nb
sp; It was nice having fans. That façade, that false sense of being desired, sometimes helped dull the sting of loneliness that came with the territory. Hell, I’d take what I could get.
While I had everything else, I did feel quite alone some of the time. Even if I didn’t have a problem getting laid, it wasn’t the same as having someone there that you cared about on a consistent basis. A real relationship. I’d never been able to find that. Maybe between the band and the record company, I’d just kept myself too busy to find anyone. Maybe I was a little picky or lacked the trust that they liked me for me instead of because I was Owen Young, rock star extraordinaire.
I waved to the girls as I left, causing another outbreak of giggles. I smiled and winked at them as I walked out the door and headed for the agency, still feeling that pleasant buzz of rock stardom tingling across my skin.
It was just before three when I arrived, and Mike was there waiting for me.
“Long time no see, Mr. Rock Star! How you doing, Owen?” He patted me on the back and smiled at me with a toothy grin.
“Good, good. You know how it is, man. With this record company, and now getting the band back together for the tour, things are crazy. I feel like I'm going nuts sometimes; there's just so much to do and almost no time to do it. Anyway, though, how are things here?”
“Oh, same as you I guess. Busy, busy,” he countered with a smile. “But, I was able to make time to schedule the three applicants you requested interviews with. They are already here and waiting. You can use my office. Let me know when to send the first one in.”
“You can go ahead and send her this way,” I told him, settling into his chair. “Thanks a bunch, man. I really do appreciate the help.”
“No worries. Glad to help. It's always a pleasure working with you, Owen—you represent the best of the music business, you really do. I wish a lot more of my clients were more like you; it'd certainly make my life a lot easier. Anyway, for these candidates, each of their resumes are right on my desk for you to go over with them. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared out of the office, and a few minutes later, a mousy-looking girl walked in. I stood to greet her, stretching my hand out toward her.
“Owen Young, and you must be Felicia,” I said.