Broken Record

Chapter 14: Benton and Stevie

Benton tapped his fingers against the cool glass of the conference table. Jelena Kingston and her mother sat at the other end, a long meeting about her multi-album contract negotiation finally coming to a close. Benton didn't have anything against Jelena. She was every bit the stereotypically popstar on the surface but the young woman worked hard. Cranked out hits. Sounded great live. Benton couldn't complain. But spending nearly three hours in a meeting with Jelena and her mother was grating. Their demands were relentless, each one requiring detailed notes and negotiations with the legal team members present.

"Alrighty, then. Looks like we have a few items to follow-up on but otherwise, this contract is good to go." Cortland was in his element, this contract being one of our biggest deals on the books. There was always a faint fear when renegotiating with Jelena that she may announce she's going with a new record label. The girl had her pick of the litter. But she'd remained loyal to the company that had made her a star. Loyal to Benton's leadership and vision.

"Benton, we'll need to schedule a meeting with Stevie and Aero ASAP." Cortland stood from the conference room table, the roundest part of his belly digging into the glass table's edge.

Benton nodded in response, running his hand along the edge of his hair. He was grateful for the day almost being over. His mind was distracted, and Cortland's mentioning of Stevie in reference to her remix obligations for Jelena certainly didn't help.

He headed back into his office, falling heavily into his leather chair and letting out a frustrated sigh. He turned toward his inbox, a slew of unanswered requests waiting for him, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Unknown @ 5:56 PM: Mr. X, we have a new option for you this evening. She's a near perfect fit, aside from the fact that she's not blonde. Good to go?

Benton leaned his head back, briefly staring up at the ceiling of his office. His session last week had been okay. The woman was experienced, thank god. But it hadn't been anything special. The sessions weren't giving him what they used to. He wasn't leaving feeling as calm, as relieved, as alive. He needed this outlet in order to keep up with his inhumanely demanding schedule. In order to keep his thinking clear and strategic, his posture stoic and detached. Benton was only able to be his calm, unattainable self because he had found an outlet to quell the unrelenting fire within himself. He was a man of the most severe dichotomy and had found over the years that keeping his two selves as separate as possible was the most optimal way to exist.

Did he care that this new, apparently more eligible, woman wasn't blonde? No. He didn't actually give a shit. That request brought his mind back to Stevie. The pixie-sized woman who got his blood boiling, the wildness within her calling him to tame it. To control it, only to let it loose with even more fervor than before. As long as another woman could make him feel a fraction of that he didn't give two shits what color her hair was.

Benton @ 6:01 PM: Good to go.

***

Benton arrived at The Den, bypassing the bar on his way to the series of rooms that used to belong to a high-end boutique hotel in the 1920's. They had been remodeled with modern amenities but still maintained their legacy allure, the rooms largely dimmed and outfitted with padded tables, swings, chairs, and toys. Benton headed for room 2115, pulling a completely bare platinum card from his back pocket and swiping it above the handle. The electromagnetic ping and latch told him he was free to enter, his hand already radiating full of tension and urgency as he pushed his way in.

The only light in the room came from glowing strips around nearly blacked-out windows. He could make out the shape of a woman, sitting on the edge of the paddled table whose legs were bolted to the floor. He made out the severe cut of her short black hair and the delicate features of her profile.