Manage me tavens circus.., p.1
Manage Me (Taven's Circus Book 1), page 1
Manage Me by Marlowe Fox
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locals are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Author holds exclusive rights to this works. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Copyright © 2014 by Marlowe Fox
Manufactured in the United States of America
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic format without expressed permission by the author.
So many people helped to make this book happen
That it is hard to choose who to dedicate this to,
But this first one goes to but author ladies.
For enduring countless messages peppered
This ones from my homies,
Mandi Beck, Audrey Carlen
Love you all <3
I stomp out into the hallway and slamming the door to the producer’s office. I’m livid that the label still doesn’t trust us. We’ve done our contracted four albums in the six years they gave us, and each one went double platinum worldwide. But they won’t let us write our own music and direct our own sound. We are burnt out on doing the same song with the same message, it sounds lame but we want to go deeper and speak to our fans, not just bang out song about all the chicks we fuck, fun we have, and money we make. We are not 18 years olds following our dicks everywhere…Okay we do still follow our dicks many place but not everywhere.
Stewing in the hallway, the haunting sound seeps past my anger. A weeping violin crying out the melody of the song I was just talking to the producer about hits me. I listen intently, completely enraptured in the tone that calls to me. I make my way down the hall, turning left, then right. Making my way to a hallway lined with doors to a dead end. I peek into the small window of each door and they are all dark, except the last one on the left.
Standing tall in the light, a bright pink violin perched on her shoulder, as she grinds the bow across the strings, a statuesque beauty stands. She moves and sways, using her whole body to make the sounds emanating from the instrument in her stable hands. Her long curly hair is so blonde it’s almost white. A large white fabric flower holds her hair back on the left side, allowing me to see the soft curve of her high cheek bone, where her long black eyelashes rest. Her skin is so smooth and creamy, I just want to run my tongue all over her.
She wears a black corset top thats covered in white hand-stitched vines. An inch of pale skin peaks out underneath, making my mouth salivate and my need spikes. She wears a pair of dark washed distressed tight jeans that hug her long legs and smirk, seeing she wears the same black Chuck Taylors, as I do.
Music completely forgotten, for the beauty before me, I reach for the door handle, finding it locked. Panic kicks into my heart and I continue to wiggle the knob. My Beauty is so lost in the music that she doesn’t miss a single note, despites the racket I am making. I raise my hand to pound on the window.
“Jaden! There you are, Mate! I have been looking everywhere for you.” James, the producer I just walked out on, strides up to me. “Come on, I just got off the phone with Craven, we have more to discuss.”
“Who is that?” I ask pointing at the window.
“That’s just an intern.” He says swinging his arm over my shoulder leading me back the way I had come. “Craven’s says he would like you to play your song from him in a day or two.”
When I play music, my mind, and body become lost in the soul of the sound. I become one with the music, and this piece, speaks to my heart. The second I heard the tone of the acoustic guitar my fingers began to itch for my Lil’ Ella (my violin) and Leon (my bow). While standing in James’ office, I became absent of all thought, James prattled on about one thing or another but I heard nothing. The longer it played the less tethered to my form I became but when James’ abruptly hit stop, my essence slammed back into my body.
I scurried through the rest of my day in a trance, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Lil’ Ella, so I could slog out the melody that continues circling in my head. It would sound just as captivating on piano but the violin would add a different depth of sadness. Racing home after work that night, I locked myself away in my music room, playing until dawn.
Riding the elevator up to the top floor of Deadly Sins Records, I stand anxiously waiting. My father is the owner of the label and I have been busting my ass since I was 18. Not only to work my way up in the company, but to gain respect. Being the owners’ daughter, everyone assumed that I was some spoiled twat, whose daddy was placating until I got bored. I also don't think being blonde and leggy helped my case any but I was determined to prove them wrong, and besides I really was good. At 18, I had started out interning in the recording studio during the summers and was not assistant to James, the head production manager. My end goal was idiot James’ job, managing and producing. I just wanted to work with the talent and make music.
My father, Gavin Crane, has worked in the music industry my whole life. I remember sitting at the feet of legends, as they played Christmas carols at holiday parties. Visiting the studio was always magic, as I watched history being made. To say music was my life would be a vast understatement. I lived and breathed it, every second, of every day.
As the elevator came to a stop and the doors slide open, I swept the loose strain of golden hair behind my ear. My nude t-strap Louboutin's clacking on the black marble floor. I wanted to look professional today but still my own style, I chose a Dolce & Gabbana, mid-thigh length, cream, leather skirt with a laser-cut lace patterns around the bottom and paired it with a Rag & Bones sweater in ox blood red, and my favorite blush motor jacket. My long blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun with my bangs framing my face.
I nod and wink at Melissa, my father secretary, and make my way to his office doors. I take a deep breath, checking my watch, 10am on the dot. I rap my knuckles on the door, turn the knob, and stop dead.
My heart slams in my chest, my eyes widen. The most beautiful man sits before my father's huge mahogany desk. An acoustic guitar rests on his tight jean clad thigh, his fingers lovely stroking the strings causing a beautiful sound to erupt from deep within the instruments body. My gaze dances across the tattoos on his fingers, his hands, up his muscular arms, to neck. There is color everywhere and I just want to get a closer look. His eyes are closed as he slightly tilts his chin and opens his mouth, a gravely deep voice emits through a pair of devastatingly delicious lips. Slowly his long lashes part and mossy green eyes sweep towards me, the right side of his lips jump into a smirk, showing a flash of dimple.
I cannot help but bite my lip, at zing of heat rushing down my spine, however I know his kind. He knows he is sexy, knows that his voice makes girls panties melt. He is cocky in the worst kind of way, and probably can't keep his dick in his pants. No, his kind of trouble isn't worth the heartache.
The strumming stops, and we stare at each other. A whistle causes us to both look towards my father. For being in his early 50's he is still a very attractive guy. A full head of d
"Wow that was fucking fantastic, Jaden. But I'm not convinced it is Toven's Circus material." He says rubbing his eyebrow with his middle finger. It then hits me, the guy I have been mental banging, is Jaden James, the lead singer of Toven’s Circus. The biggest college douche bag rock/metal band in the country. I wasn’t a huge fan of theirs but up close, I was becoming a big fan of their lead singer. Trying not to make an ass of myself by drooling on my Louboutin's, I step forward and clear my throat softly to gain my father’s attention. This causes Jaden eyes to drift back to me, traveling from the top of my head to the tips of my 4 inch heels, and back up again, his smirk growing as he travels.
"Ah, Nell! What did you think of Mr. James's little song?" My father asks in a condescending tone drawing my eyes away from Jaden again.
Stepping up to the edge of the desk, I tilt my head and lift my shoulder, "It was beautiful, but very different from Toven's Circus's signature sound." Looking Jaden in his glaring eyes, I continue, "However, I think the fans, especially of the female ilk, will be grateful to have, thee Jaden James crooning to them acoustically. I suggest playing it during the live shows, generate some interest, then releasing it as a bonus track on the new album."
With eyebrows raised and a look of annoyance in his eyes, my father turns to Jaden. "Jaden James, I would like you to meet my daughter, Nell Crane, she is currently working down in production, however, I hear Toven's is in need of a new tour manager." A pregnant pause takes over the room as Jaden stares wide eyed in my direction.
When the door to Crane's office opened the air in the room shifted. I fumble a couple notes in the song I am playing, so I closed my eyes, focusing on the words that come from deep inside my soul. This song means more than any other from Toven's previous records, it is important that we that I, get to share this one with the world.
As I play the last little lick, her scent hits my nose, firing straight to my brain. My eyes snap open seeking her out. This woman is so stunning that my breath stops and my heart start to pound but that doesn't stop the smirk from forming. The sound of Crane's whistle draws my attention back to him, giving my frantic heart a second to recoup. I try focusing on his words but my gaze is dragged back to the leggy blonde standing off to our right.
Noticing her nearly white blonde hair is a punch to the chest. It’s her, the Beauty with the violin. Her eyes are a bright electric blue color, I'd never seen anything like them. She bites her plump lower lip nervously and I have to fight growl of need from escaping. Sweeping my eyes down her sexy black leather skirt to those delectably long legs and finally to the shoes. Nude strappy something or others, that are so fucking hot my cock does a delighted leap in my jeans.
Her raspy voice brings my focus back from the bedroom, where I had been imagining those long legs wrapped around my head. I realize she is talking about my song and seems to know her shit, but why would Crane ask her. At the words daughter and tour manager, it hits me that this crazy fucker wants this beautiful sex kitten of a daughter to go on tour with us? Was the guy insane or just stupid?
"Uh, are you saying you want, her, to be our tour manager?" My heart is hammering with excitement while my brain is kicking it silent. Freezing blue sparks light up in her eyes as she glowers at me, making my balls quake a little.
"What you don't think I have the skills or intellect to be your manager!?" She fumes. Looking like she'd like to stomp me under those thought provoking heels of hers.
"Look, it has nothing to do with your skills or intellect and everything to do with because you're a chick." I sigh, running my hands though my hair. If possible she seems to become even more pissed off and damn if she doesn't look even more fuckable, as a red heat rushes to her cheeks.
"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" Her teeth are clinched and her hands are squeezed tightly into fists.
"Okay kids dial it back." Crane stands and loosely grabs Nell's arm dragging her over to the chair next to me. Crane gently shoves her into it, then leans back on to the edge of his desk. Nell's arms are crossed over her amazing chest, as she pouts, looking anywhere but at me.
"Look my Nell is amazing. She knows music and she knows how to handle a petulant artist or band. She's organized and dependable. Mostly she is smart as hell and knows how to handle herself." As he sings her praise, Nell relaxes and smiles towards her father.
"It's not that I doubt her skills, I just know that we are a bunch of crude, smelly, and at time disrespectful assholes." Turning toward Nell, who still won't look at me, I continue, "You are beautiful, well mannered, young, and from the looks of you, fairly innocent. I don't want a bunch of disgusting rockers to tarnish that."
Flashing her angry eyes toward me I realize that while her demeanor may have relaxed but she is still plenty pissed. "You met me 5 seconds ago and you have no right to say, how or when I get "tarnish". I will be the best goddamn tour manager you have ever seen, despite your disgusting habits.” She bites out then pauses with a look of confusion. “Wait, isn't your bass player female?"
"Ashton's grew up with us, she's used to it. Besides she's more dude then chick half the time." I shrug.
"Look, the worst thing that could happen is I don't work out, why not give me a chance to see what I can do. If the band decides I'm not the right fit after the first few shows, then I will leave and my father will find you a seasoned big dick male tour manager." Thrusting her hand my way I can do little but shake it. As my hand is about to meet hers a visible spark arks causing Nell to slightly gasp, me to frown, and shake off her hand quickly.
"Okay, well, I guess we can try you out. The tour starts this weekend in Portland, Oregon. The band is going to head up on Thursday to give us couple days to see family before we head out for the next 3 months. Pack light Princess, it's going to be pretty cramped."
Fire shoots into her eyes again as I stand, shake Crane’s hand, grab my guitar case, and make my exit.
What an arrogant, infuriating, fucking asshole! How was I supposed to spend 3 months in a cramp tour bus with Jaden and his huge ego? I stomp into my shared office and slam the door.
"Calling me princess, what the freaking, fucking fuck?" I gribble under my breath.
“Everything okay, Nell?” Comes the nails-on-a-chalkboard-voice I’ve grown to hate over the last few month. Cammie, was the rare unicorn like groupie-slut, she was a smart-groupie-slut. She figured, why blow roadies and security to get backstage, when you can work for a record label, have full access to artist, and no competition. Even as a non-groupie-slut, I was pretty impressed.
“I just had the pleasure of meet Jaden James.”
“Oh, My, God, Jaden James is here? He is number one on my “Top 20 Must Fuck” list.” I just stare at her is stunned shock. There’s a list? This girl is serious about her groupiing. The OCD groupie-slut.
“Would you fuck a dead rock star just so you could say you did?” I ask randomly, truly wondering about the psychology of this girl.
She actually sits there thinking about it for a couple seconds before asking, “Do you think the penis becomes hard again at some point?” Sick is clearly the answer to her psyche.
Shaking my head, I plop down in my desk chair, I need to figure out how to get through this. Jaden questioning my ability to deal with a bunch of gross men just makes me more determined to stick this out. If I can do a good job on the tour with Toven's Circus, maybe my father will finally give me a shot at producing for real instead of just grabbing coffees and doing crap jobs for James. Looks like I will have to suck it up and make friends with the asshole. Deciding on a game plan, I figure I should head home and start working through making arrangements.
Grabbing my Louis Vuitton ivory Pont-Neuf GM bag, and my keys. I say bye to the necro and head for the elevators. After w
It's too quiet as the car begins to descend and I try my damnedest not to turn around. When the air unexpectedly changes and sifts as Jaden enters my eye line. He steps in front of me, I try holding my breath so his spicy scent will stop assaulting my brain cells. The smirk is gone and his eyes have turned emerald with a seductive edge. My brain is yelling at me to step back but before I can, his hand reaches out, grasps my chin with his rough calloused finger tips, and with a light tug, pops my lip from between my teeth.
"You should really take care of this lip." His face is close enough I can feel his minty breath brush my cheek.
Unable to speak at first, it takes me a few seconds to finally come to my senses and respond, "Oh? And what does it matter to you." Mentally patting myself on the back for not sounding too breathy, despite my heart hammering, and tingling spreading through me directly from his fingertips.
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