Page 9 of Highball Rush
“Yeah.”
“Here’s what you’re going to do. Take a day off. Drive… anywhere, really. Just get out of the city. I’ve been there and it’s gorgeous. Go to Mount Rainier or take a ferry to Whidbey Island. Find a place where you’re surrounded by the natural world. A beautiful setting where you can justbe. Let that recharge your batteries.”
“Okay,” he said, and I could practically hear him nodding. “Yeah, that does sound good.”
“Awesome. Then get back in the studio and get the fuck back to work.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I know, I know. Thanks, Maya.”
“Anytime.”
I hung up and dropped my phone back in my bag.
“Maya?” Oliver poked his head in Yui’s office. “Good to see you.”
“Hey.” I stood, shouldering my big handbag, and shook his hand. “Ready for me?”
“Yeah, thanks for waiting.”
“No problem.”
I grabbed my coffee and followed him into his office. Unlike Yui’s, which was stylishly modern, Oliver’s office looked like it belonged to a hard-core music fan. He had vintage band posters in frames and several shelves displayed his collection of music memorabilia.
He sat behind his mahogany desk, dressed in a Nirvana t-shirt. His dirty blond hair was short, his face smooth. His gunmetal wedding ring stood out against his tanned skin.
I took a seat on the other side of his desk and sucked down more of my coffee.
“You kinda look like shit,” he said.
I shot him a glare. “I’ve been in the country for less than twenty-four hours. I think. I’m actually not sure what time it is. Or what day. Who are you, again?”
He grinned. “God, I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Just tell me why I’m here and not sleeping off jet lag in Yui’s stupidly comfortable guest bed.”
“Before I tell you, let me just say, I fully intended to give you some time off. I’m not such a dick that I don’t realize you’ve been on tour and you just got back. So I wouldn’t have asked you to come in if it wasn’t important.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” I said. “I’m used to it. Besides, you know me, I don’t do time off.”
“Maybe you should.”
I took another sip. “Oliver, you’re a great boss, but if I need someone to bug me about working too much, I’ll call my parents.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been home to see them, by the way?”
“Oh my god. You just told me youweregoing to give me time off, which means now you’re not. But you’re going to give me crap about how much I work and toss in a guilt trip about my parents?”
“I’m sorry, I’m probably projecting. Nat’s been on my case about the holidays and how long it’s been since we’ve seen my family. It’s fucking August, and she’s trying to make Thanksgiving plans.”
Nat was Oliver’s adorable wife. While he was managing a recording empire, she was wrangling their two little boys.
“It’s fine, and tell her I said hi. But can we get to the part where you tell me where I’m going and whose ass I need to kick? Is it Saraya again? Is she having another existential crisis? Not that I mind. I love Nashville.”
“No, she’s fine, as far as I’m aware. I actually need you to go check out some new talent for me.”
That was odd. I wasn’t a talent scout. I worked with Attalon’s existing artists; I didn’t look at potentials. “Why?”
“Why do I want you to check him out, or why am I sending you?”
