Page 91 of Selling Out
“Fusion.”
My brows shoot up, and I get a knot in my chest like I do anytime my label comes up.
She blinks a couple of times, still staring at me like she’s not totally seeing me. “They want me to sign with them.”
Silence.
Mia takes her finger and lifts my chin to close my jaw. “I know.”
A flurry of emotions courses through me—shock, concern why they haven’t gotten back to Paul when they called Mia, hope for what this might mean for my future with the label, disappointment at the thought of Mia facing the sort of treatment I have from Fusion—but I throw my arms around her, shoving it all to the side. “Mia, that’s amazing!”
Her arms tighten around me. “Thank you.”
I pull back, setting my hands on her shoulders. “What’d they say? What’dyousay?”
She grabs my wrists. For the same reason, I assume that I’m holding her by the shoulders. If I can find a way to be in physical contact with Mia, I take it, however flimsy the reason.
“I told them I needed to think about it.” Her gaze grows more intent, and her hands grip my wrists more tightly. “Was that wrong? Should I have said yes right away?”
“No. No. You did the right thing. You want a manager involved. Especially with Fusion.” No way would I let Mia sign the kind of contractIsigned with them when I first started.
She blows out a relieved breath, then hugs me again. “I owe it all to you.”
I shake my head, and she nods hers against my shoulder. Now that she can’t see me, some of the less-positive emotions bubble up.
My phone rings, and I grab it out of my pocket as we pull apart.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Can you come here?” Paul says. “We need to talk.”
My heart rate speeds up. “I’m on my way.”
Mia’s eyes search mine. “Is everything okay?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. I’ve got to go talk to Paul.” I pause. “Any chance you want to join?” Whatever Paul’s about to say tome, I get the sense it’s a big deal. I’d rather have Mia with me for it.
“Of course.”
I take her hand, grab our suitcases, and head for the elevators. Paul must’ve gotten ahold of Fusion. After their call with Mia, even though he’s been waiting for their call since last night. But if they’re happy enough to offer Mia a contract, they can’t betoomad about our stunt last night.
I open the door of the room Paul and I are sharing, and Paul looks up, his gaze flitting between us.
I give a nod to show I want Mia here, and we take seats on the edge of the first bed.
Paul rubs his chin with a hand as he sits on the other bed. “Good news first. They’re not thrilled with the choice to go behind their backs, but they acknowledge the opening was a hit with the crowd.”
Yikes. I was hoping it would be something more along the lines ofthey realize they’ve been wrong not letting you sing your own stuff. If them not being livid about last night is the good news, I can’t imagine what the bad news is.
“You’re killing me, Paul,” I say. “Let’s have the bad news.”
He rubs his chin again. It’s a gesture I’ve become very familiar with. It crops up when he has to deliver unwelcome information from Fusion.
“I followed up with them on the Noah situation, and…” He grimaces, eyes full of apology. “Austin, they’ve licensed one of your songs to him.”
“What?”
There’s dead silence, but Paul’s expression says it all. He’s completely serious.
