Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“I’m hoping Bex is still in town. I didn’t ask if she had a place to stay.”
“Did she leave a way for you to get in touch with her?”
I nod and pull my wallet from my back pocket. “I have her card,” I say as I slip it out and set it on the island. Josie pushes my phone toward me and smiles.
“What are you waiting for, Page?”
I groan. “Woman, why must you taunt me all the time?”
Josie winks as she takes a sip of her coffee. “You’re doing the right thing, babe. Call her.” She pushes away from the island and refills her mug. I dial the number and put the call on speakerphone.
Bex answers on the second ring. “This is Bex.”
“Good morning, Bex. This is Liam. Liam Page.”
“I know who it is.” She laughs. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to talk about the show. Are you still in Beaumont?”
“I’m in Allenville.”
“Can you come to the studio today? Or I can meet you if you have business in Allenville.”
“I can be there in an hour.”
I tell her I’ll meet her there. When I hang up, Josie’s eyebrows are raised.
“An hour,” I say with a sigh. In an hour I’m going to make a lifestyle change.
“Then you’d better shower. You smell like sleep.”
I carry my plate to the sink and then kiss her. She puts her hand on my chest and holds me there for a few extra seconds.
“I’m proud of you.”
It takes a moment, but a smile spreads across my face. I know they’re just words but hearing them makes all the difference.
The parking lot is full when I pull in. I love every bit of it, but once again, I’m thankful Elle suggested we have designated and reserved parking for FMG Records. As a business owner, and someone who is trying to revitalize my hometown, nothing pleases me more than to see businesses thriving.
I unlock the front door for FMG Records and check the date book to see if anyone is coming in to record today. I know everything is online, in some fancy pants tracking system, but I’m old school and need the physical calendar. Paige’s handwriting is clear and neat, and I know she filled in all the appointments in the last couple of days. There’s no need to do it if the old man ain’t around.
Before heading to my office, I stop in the breakroom, start a pot of coffee, and then place an order for delivery from Whimsicality. I imagine this meeting with Bex could take some time since we have a lot to iron out and I want to be prepared.
I open the blinds and let the morning light come in, make sure the air conditioner is on, and then sit down at my desk to wait. I’m impatient and nervous. If the AC wasn’t on, the sound of my fingers tapping against my desk would drive me up the wall.
I hear the front door open and then Bex’s voice calling down the hall. “Hello?”
“Back here.”
She appears in the doorway. She’s dressed casually today in jeans and a fitted blazer pushed up at the sleeves. She has her bag over one shoulder and a notebook in her hand. She smiles when she sees me, and it’s the same wide, open smile from our first meeting, the one that caught me off guard because it didn’t match the sharpness of her pitch.
“Thanks for calling,” she says and I can tell she means it.
“Thanks for picking up. I know I probably don’t deserve it after I abruptly ended our meeting.”
She laughs. It’s quick and genuine. She pulls out the chair across from my desk and sits down, crosses one ankle over the other, opens her notebook to a page that’s already full of handwriting. She came prepared. She’s been prepared since she walked into this studio the first time.
“So,” I say. “I want to do a trial run. I was thinking a month, but I’ll give you six weeks. If it doesn’t work, I need to be able to walk away.”
“Six weeks is fair.” She nods. “And if it isn’t working, I want you to tell me why before you walk. Give me the chance to fix it.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.” She flips to a new page in the notebook. “Then let me tell you what I’m thinking, and you tell me where I’m wrong or if you have another idea.”
She walks me through it. The format: three hours, evening slot, call-in. She’ll produce from here since moving to New York is out of the question. She’ll screen the callers and will cut them off if they veer off topic. She will do all the marketing and has a team for social media.
“Your job is to talk, to answer questions. You’re the face of The Love Line,” she says. “You talk to them the way you’d talk to someone sitting across from you. You listen, you respond, and you share anything about your personal life that you see fit. There isn’t a script. This all comes from the heart.”