Page 58 of Protect Your Queen

“I’m two minutes older,” he smirked. “And much more responsible.”

She kicked him again and he feigned a wince, but chuckled as he did so.

“I should have strangled you with the umbilical cord,” she sneered. He, in turn, stuck out his tongue like a brat, and she flung a pen at him.

Good thing it wasn’t her knife.

“But that ended in adulthood, right?” I said, with a chuckle. “I mean, that kind of thing kinda evens out when you’re older, doesn’t it?”

“Not really,” Lea said, pulling out her knife again. “I think the structure gets stronger, the older you are, especially if your parents aren’t around. But we’re different. There’s only two of us, and we’re twins. For the Barkadas - since I assume that’s why you’re asking - it’s different. Bigger families, depending on how traditional, can have a more rigid hierarchy.”

“Jareth is definitely the eldest in the traditional sense. He’s more like a parent than a sibling.” Leo ran his index finger and thumb over a goatee that sparsely surrounded his lips, emphasizing the squareness of his jaw. “It’s not unusual to have multigenerational households. The eldest is pressured to make money and provide for everyone. Oftentimes, that means the youngest pick up nannying for their siblings, or being a caregiver for the parents.”

Interesting. Maybe that accounted for the distance between Jareth and Jestiny. Or maybe there was something else at play too.

“A lot of families are breaking out of that rigidity, but you’ll still see it in relationships and expectations, sometimes.” Lea turned to me and grinned. “By the end of this assignment, you’re going to know so much about Filipinos, our mother will be able to marry you off to a nice girl from church.”

“No thanks,” I snorted, even as an image of Jestiny in a lace veil popped into my head.

Chapter twenty-one

Phoenix

Jestiny

Mrs. Stasia Dryden’s office was modern and sleek. It was a lot of curved lines, like she was living in a Georgia O’Keefe painting. When I entered, she had a phone to her ear and she gestured with her long index finger for me to sit down and wait.

“Mm-hmm?” she said into the speaker. “If Gia is looking for new representation, then I want to come in guns blazing. The woman would make millions releasing her own EP. We’re going to need to sweeten the deal if we’re to lure her in. Figure something else out before she slips the net.”

She had a single, deep magenta orchid on her glass table. It matched the color of her minimalist, rounded swivel chair with its chrome arm rests. Everything was white and dark pink, with a splash of chrome and silver accents as she sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling panorama of Los Angeles County.

“If we lose her, and she goes to another label, make no mistake,” her voice lowered to a menacing tone, and I was absolutelyloving it,“I will know which throat to choke. Have I made myself clear?”

She hung up a few seconds later, and sighed, falling back in her chair as the seat tilted under her weight.

“Can I call you Jestiny? Or Jes?” she asked, steepling her fingers in front of her, her dark eyes roaming my body in that assessing way.

“Jes is fine, Mrs. Dryden,” I said meekly, feeling the weight of her authority.

“Call me Stasia.” Her crimson lips turned up in a slight smile.

I already knew that I wouldnotbe calling her that. It felt wrong. The woman was a legend. No one got anywhere without a nod from her, and she never bet on a losing horse. Never!

“I’ll be frank, I thought that your first album was juvenile, basic, and the same pentatonic recycle of every other teenybop album out there,” she said with a wave of her hand, as if unaware that every word was a slice against my skin. I wasn’t going to cry.I wasn’t going to cry. “When my husband told me he wanted to drop you, I was on board. But, of course, I had to see for myself, since you are a chart topper.”

She leaned forward, placing one pointed elbow on the glass top.

“The longevity of sexy, barely-legal girls is… limited. It’s a losing proposition if you can’t transition your way out. With the delay of your album, and you being of drinking age, that expiration date was looming.” she sighed. “The industry is cruel to women, isn’t it?”

Thump. Thump. Thump.She knows. She knows I’m a fraud. She knows I’m only here because I blackmailed her husband. She knows! She has to. I’m an empty doll with nothing going on beneath the surface. I could feel the pulse in my ears turning into a headache. A hurt that would never go away.

Everything was going wrong. My career was in shambles. There were threats at my door. Brian left. I was almost ran over… not to mention the shooting that missed me and hit Christopher.

“But what I saw yesterday was special.” Her words took a minute to register. She had brought her other arm up to the table, and now held her chin on the back of her intertwined fingers.

She was so elegant, feminine, and powerful. Just like the paintings of bold printed flowers on her wall.

“Now, covers, especially of the old jazz classics aren’t going to work for you. They invite too much comparison. Even if you knock it out of the park, people will still criticize. Nostalgia is a tough thing to compete with. But we could get you a different team of songwriters. You have a rich voice. But we need to find you songs with more soul. Something that really resonates with you, as an artist and as a person.”

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