Chapter 43 - Chase Me, Cowboy

I pace up and down the hallway. On the other side of the wall, Lenny sits with his bodyguard, waiting for me.

Pausing, I run a hand over my face.

God, I am so damn tired.

Part of me wants to step out and call Marion to tell her that I fucking quit. She can have the whole thing; I’ve got a lot of money in savings. Maybe Coen had the right idea when he said fuck it on the whole damn industry. I’ll always get a rush of adrenaline at the prospect of closing a deal, but it’s not worth everything. It’s not worth my health, my sanity, my ability to have the woman I want.

Who the fuck cares if people judge me?

Who gives a fuck about any of this?

Spinning on my heel, I push through my office doors. Lenny is sprawled out, one ankle laid across his knee. This meeting could have gone the way I planned: a polite severing of our contract. Except, he’s sitting in my chair, slumped, like he fucking owns it. The chair that Marion bought for me three years ago for Christmas.

Anger fizzles and ignites.

“Lenny,” I say, still standing with the door halfway ajar.

“Yeah?” He’s tossing one of my signed footballs, which is supposed to sit on the shelf, back and forth.

“Contract’s done,” I say.

He stiffens, sitting up. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the contract’s done. My assistant will send the papers today.”

He shoots up. “You fucking serious?”

“Yeah. Deadly.”

I step out and let the door fall shut. Normally, I’d agonize over what this will do to our word-of-mouth reputation. Then, I poke my head back through the door.

“And don’t ever talk to my staff like that again,” I say. “I saw you chewing out Christie. Bad form.”

Without waiting to hear his answer, I leave, red-faced and at a boiling point. Briskly, I climb the moving escalator to the second floor and stride down the middle hall to Marion’s office in the corner. She has a glass door, her name printed in black lettering across it.

I tap the glass with my knuckles.

She glances up. “Come in,” she calls.

I lean inside, one foot still out. “Just letting you know I canned Lenny, and he’s really fucking pissed off.”

She sighs, face falling.

“You couldn’t have done it how we agreed?” she asks.

“Nah, he’s a big kid. He can take it,” I say.

She laughs, shaking her head. Alright, that’s not the response I expected. “You know, at least I’m never bored with you around.”

“Not for a second.”

“Go on, get out.”

“Get out…where?”

She tilts her head. “You’d be in a lot better mood if you would go do what you’ve been wanting to do all week.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

She sighs, closing her laptop and resting her folded hands on it. “There’s nothing keeping you from Serena,” she says.

“If MET takes her on.”

“They will.”

“You’re really fucking confident. Jenna and Rita are picky.”

She smiles. “Guess who I ran into this morning at the coffee stand?”

“Serena?”

She frowns. “No, what would Serena be doing here? No, Rita was in town for a meeting at Houston-Best Records. She’d like to take your girl on.”

Something clicks into place. That last piece in the solution to my problem. I stand for a second, then slip into her office and sink down opposite her desk.

“Can I ask you a question?” I start. “As a friend, but as a friend in this industry.”

“Of course.” Her eyes are soft.

“What does that look like? Us, being together. Me doing this all the time, and her on the road.”

She thinks it through. I can always rely on Marion for a thoughtful answer.

“It looks like whatever you make it,” she says finally. “You’re gonna be busy. Sometimes, you’ll have to give more. Other times, she will. It’s hard, but if she’s what you want, you’ll find a way back to her every time.”

She holds out her hand. I put mine in it.

She’s right. It’s time to make a move, even if it’s not the right time.

I can’t live with regret if I don’t.

“Have I ever told you thank you?” I say. “For being there when nobody else could.”

“Oh, you would have done the same for me,” she says, waving her free hand.

I would have, but we both know that’s not what I mean. When it was only me, reeling from grief, alone in the world, Marion came along and put in a little extra effort to tear down my walls. She stepped in and held my hand while I dealt with the big hole torn in my heart when my parents passed. I don’t think I’d have made it without her. I’d have quit and gone home to be a wrangler.

I’m a little less lonely after that realization. I’ve felt adrift for a while, always the supportive person, the shoulder to cry on. But Marion was that for me. Every new experience, new deal, she was there.

I wonder if she feels about me the way I feel about Coen—proud of everything we accomplished and guilty over everything we lost.

I hope not. She gave me all the good parts, too. I wonder if that’s how Coen looks at it. Maybe I should stop balling up my feelings and just ask him sometime.

“Serena’s still at the studio,” she says finally. “You should go get your girl.”