“Shane….you hired me because you didn’t want to have anything to do with me….” Carmen turned back and looked at Shane, whose chest was rapidly rising and falling.

“I thought wrong Carmen….I thought wrong….” Carmen lowered her head and walked out of the room, leaving Shane awash with conflicting emotions, one of which, she knew, was the rarely-experienced sensation of sexual frustration.

Chapter 16

Shane gave a hard tug to the knot of her tie. She couldn’t stand it inside, amongst the elite and glitterati dressed in their branded suits and couture dresses. She lit her cigarette and leaned against the railing. This was Will’s idea and Shane had always known in the music industry, it wasn’t just about the music, it was also about who you know and who you impressed. Except that Shane didn’t play games. She had always relied on her music. Now that her second album was going to be released, Will had insisted she come to meet the head honchos instead of behaving like a recluse. She had sat at the table, staring blankly at the filet mignon on her plate, listening to the mindless chatter of people around her. Will had mastered the art of schmoozing exceptionally well, she thought as she idly poked the filet mignon with her fork on the plate. He was confabulating with the rest of them and she felt like an outsider, on the fringe of their conversation.

“Shane…when is your album going to be released?”

“Late August,” Shane knew she was supposed to talk about her album, the new direction she was going with her music, but she couldn’t help the monosyllabic answers that were coming from her. For a moment, there was an awkward silence and Will jumped in to fill the gap.

“Excuse me….” Shane stood up and went outside. Back to the darkness where she belonged and away from the music executives negotiating million-dollar deals. She closed her eyes and could feel the chilly air caressing her skin. Carmen had been the only person in months who’d made her laugh.  The only person who’d gotten past her defenses and the wall of determination she’d built around herself to keep people out.  She didn’t like it.  She didn’t like her.  Didn’t like her soft mouth and her rich brown hair, didn’t like her breasts and her hips and her waist.  The scent of her, the feel and taste of her, the wry, unexpected humor. And most of all she didn’t like her eyes, and the sorrow she could see reflected in their rich, warm depths whenever she looked at her.