Page 11 of My Favorite Mistake

“You too.” Liza glanced at him as he left and then let her gaze skim over the layout of the house. The interior was distinctly vintage, probably nineteenth century, with a lot of French finishings. The ancient hardwood creaked under her stilettos as she followed Jimmy into what likely used to be a dining room, but had filing cabinets and two large, oak desks pushed against the deep red walls. An equally large, mahogany desk sat dead-center in the room, with a large leather chair on one side and two metal folding chairs positioned on the other. All the surfaces were stacked at least a foot high with manila folders and paperwork, and hung from the walls were several framed gold record albums from various jazz musicians and brass bands. A stereo in one corner blasted the music of what Liza guessed might have been one of those brass bands, and in her mind’s eye she could practically see a Mardi Gras parade.

She glanced around the room wearing a smile and then looked at Jimmy. “This is a beautiful house.”

“Thank you. It’s been in my family for all five of those generations.” He sat in the leather chair and reclined slightly, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his round belly. “And I kinda see it as the home to my family at this label. I’m a bit old school, and I see Frenchmen Street as a family business. That’s part of why I’ve been slow to adapt to the changing industry. Thought I could hold on to the small-town culture from my childhood and teen years, but New Orleans isn’t the same city it used to be. After Katrina, the world seemed to focus its attention on us even closer, which has been good for some reasons and bad for others. It’s almost like the chaos of that storm increased the tourist appeal.” He scratched his head. “I don’t understand that at all, but tourism has always been part of our lifeblood here, so…” He shrugged. “I don’t even know.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk as he gestured at the walls. “What I do know is it’s become clear that if I want to keep my label around for another twenty-five years, I need to adapt to the changes in the industry. I have no idea where to start. I’m hoping you can fix that for me,andteach me everything you know.”

Liza slipped a small tablet out of her bag and powered it on, navigating to the file she’d created with all the information he’d emailed her. “Well, fortunately for you, I’m one of the best in my field. I’ve reviewed your catalog and local engagement and distribution, and I’ve got a slew of ideas. I have a very clear idea how to start and am completely confident that we can reposition Frenchmen Street quickly and efficiently.” She set the tablet down on her lap and clasped her hands together on top of it. “The first thing I’m going to do is create a detailed outline for a rebranding effort and marketing plan for the next six months that encompasses each of your artists and for the label in general. If that looks good to you, we’ll hit the ground running.”

Jimmy’s bright, white smile only grew wider as he listened intently, and she couldn’t help smiling back. “That sounds fantastic.” He wagged his finger at her. “You sound like you’re worth every penny.”

She leaned back in her chair. “I can assure you that I am.”

“Well, all right.” He clapped his hands together. “How long do you think it’ll take you to come up with that?”

She lifted her shoulders as she pressed her lips together. “By Monday for sure. I’d like to go to any shows you have scheduled for this week, talk to the artists’ individual managers, check out their merch tables, how the clubs are promoting shows, so on and so forth. I’d also like to take a closer look at your distribution channels and digital platform.”

He waved his hands. “I got no digital platform. And distribution is just to local record stores mostly. They were able to handle converting to and offering MP3s and stuff.” He chuckled. “I don’t know how that shit works.”

“Fortunately, I do.” She set the tablet on the desk and tapped a browser tab. “We’ll get everything set up in digital format and then distribute to streaming services. I think you’ll see an immediate uptick in visibility. I was looking at a Google analytics report that showed people are actually searching for your artists on the major streaming services and YouTube.” She looked up at him. “You’re still extremely relevant. You just need to beef up your platform.”

Jimmy slapped the desk. “Then let’s do that.”

She grinned. “Perfect.”

He stood up and gestured for her to follow him out of the open room and crossed the foyer into another room that had two large desks pushed against each other. “So this’ll be your office. You can have your pick of the desks ‘cuz my people are almost never around.” He gestured toward the back of the house. “You’ve already met Riley. He normally comes and goes as he damn well pleases because I’ve got an unorthodox, yet necessary financial arrangement with him—”

Liza waved her hand casually. “He explained it. I think it’s kind of neat.”

“Yeah, so because of that he just sort of hangs around to chat up the artists and goes to the shows and offers opinions and moral support and stuff.” Jimmy chuckled. “He hardly qualifies as an employee, but he’s a Marine Corps vet and a great guy, and he’s definitely part of the fam.”

So the hunky, rich, movie star-looking guy isalsoa Marine, Liza mused, keeping her face neutral, as men in the military were obviouslya weakness of hers.He clearly haseverythinggoing for him.

She smiled placidly. “He seems very nice.”

“Yep. One of the nicest.” Jimmy pointed in the direction of a couple of doors that lined the hallway toward the back of the house. “My art department is a young lady named Frankie Huckabee, who lives over in Kenner, so I let her come in a little later and work from home some days. My legal team is an attorney who works in Mid-City. He’s Carson McDermott, and I only call him when I need him for contracts and stuff. And my A and R guy is usually around every day, but he prefers to work by never sitting down and mostly marches around the house while he’s on the phone.”

She gave a nod as she set her bag down on the chair that faced the front windows. “He sounds Type A.”

“Oh he’s type something, all right.” Jimmy chuckled again and smoothed his shirt. “He’ll be bursting through the doors any minute all sweaty ‘cuz he’s crazy and likes to jog here from way over on Algiers Point.”

Liza raised her eyebrows. “That’s an insanely long way to jog. Especially in this humidity.”

“Yeah, well. We’ve all warned him about it, but he’s bull-headed.” Jimmy shook his head. “Anyway, his name is Connor Deneau, and I’ve already let him know I’m expecting him to work closely with you on this new artist we’re planning to sign here in the next week or so. Connor’s been scouting him for a couple of months, and we’ve got high hopes for this young man.”

Connor.

Liza’s stomach plummeted as she went effectively blind and deaf. On some level, she had an awareness that her face probably exuded shock and disbelief, but she was lost in the recesses of memories from ten years ago, and how in thehellhad the universe orchestratedthis?

It was that fortune teller. It had to be. Between the fact that shehappenedto step into a cab that was carrying one of her new colleagues and having taken a job whereConnorworked, there was no other explanation. Liza didn’t even believe in magic or spirits or any of that nonsense, but right then and there, she believed with every bone in her body the old woman had placed a spell on her.

“You all right?” Jimmy asked, placing his hand on her shoulder and lowering his head to her eye level. “You look kind of pale.”

She hastily cleared her throat and blinked. “I’m fine. Still adjusting to the weather, I guess.”

And shewasfine. She knew crossing paths with Connor was a possibility, and she’d prepared herself for that. Just because the crossing of paths happened to entail fate dropping her smack into the center ofhispath, it didn’t make her any less of a professional nor any less exceptional at her job. She could handle this. She would conduct herself with class and tact and professionalism, no matter howhebehaved, and nothing negative would reflect on her.

Beyond that, Connor had disposed of her ten years ago, and she’d never heard from him again. It was entirely possible he’d forgotten her completely. Six months, no matter how intensely passionate, was barely a blip on the radar in terms of a decade. Compared to back then, Liza knew she was almost unrecognizably different now in terms of both lifestyleandappearance. Maybe she’d be lucky, and he wouldn’t make the connection at all.

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