Of Course, It's You

Chapter 11

CARMEN

This had to be some cruel joke. A what-else-could-go-wrong kind of joke the gods were playing.

Carmen didn't believe in fate. She believed in corporate level power plays, spreadsheets, in logic and strategy. But as she stood frozen in front of a makeshift photo wall in the bar, this dimly lit shrine to a label she'd come to retrieve, Carmen felt like some unseen force was out to screw her sideways.

This meeting hadn't been planned. Which was very unlike her. She figured she'd test the waters, walk in cool and confident, and wing it. But what actually happened? She came in like a wrecking ball, guns blazing, and snapping judgements before she even knew what the hell she was looking at.

And now, here she was, face to face with the bitter truth. Or rather, an entire collage of it. Photos that told her exactly what kind of storm she'd just created.

Each frame along the wall featured a band she had flagged in her research. Not just promising talent, but exactly the kind of genre-busting, risk-taking, industry-shaking artist she wanted for her relaunch. The ones that made her believe in her plan. The ones that had given her this whole dan idea in the first place.

All the bands that had caught her attention, all of them, were currently looking back at her from their photographs. These were the very artists that were broadening the label's genre pool.

Every single one of them was standing next to Hannah.

The woman Carmen had just all but fired.

The same woman who, mere days ago, had Carmen up against a barn wall, mouths pressed to collarbones and pleas uttered in the dark.

She stared at the photographs like they might morph into something else if she looked long enough. But they didn't. They remained the same. Blatantly and painfully true.

Somewhere along the line, Carmen had missed the most important piece of her own puzzle: the scout that had signed these new artists. The driving force behind every artist that had drawn Carmen here.

All Carmen's research was thorough, no matter the topic. So, how was it that she hadn't found the name of the scout for these bands? Especially if they were so impactful to the whole business plan that Carmen had written.

This small piece of information: the name of the one person she had admitted months ago to thank for venturing outside of those invisible confines.

What kind of idiot didn't connect the dots?

What this woman was accomplishing, whether others had taken notice, was what had given Carmen the idea to come down here in the first place. Not that Hannah was aware of that part, and she couldn't tell her now. Not after she basically ruined that whole plan with her terrible attitude.

She had dug deep in her research, combed through databases and press mentions and streaming analytics. But nowhere had Hannah's name shown up. Not in interviews. Not in credits. Not even in the write-ups.

But here, on this wall, she was unmistakable. Blonde hair shining under the haze of the venue lights, eyes lit up beside every band she had championed. And there, God, there she was holding her daughter, Lyvie on her hip, smiling as wide as the stage.

Carmen's stomach twisted.

They were beaming. Happy. Like the future had already arrived for them.

There were at least ten photos on the wall, probably taken over the years. And if Carmen had any instincts left at all, she knew that number would double, even triple, now that she was here. Now that she had found Hannah.

Her thoughts tasted like regret.

She ran a hand over her face, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose like it could block out her own foolishness.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was dumb luck.

Either way, Carmen had managed to stumble into the one person she needed to meet. No. The person she needed to thank. And she had left the woman feeling disposable. Like a one-night mistake instead of the very reason Carmen had flown here with a business pan in her carry-on and hope stitched into her bones.

And now? Now she didn't even know if there was anything left to salvage. This was the very scandal she was trying to avoid. Her father would eat her for breakfast if something negative came out of this.

But beyond all that, it was Hannah's work that mattered. Her eyes and ears for the industry. And Carmen had to make it right. Not just personally, but professionally.

Because the truth beneath it all, was that there was no future for this label without Hannah in it.

Carmen inhaled, held it until her lungs ached, and exhaled slowly.

She could fix this. Maybe.

She could already see a three-step plan forming in her head.

Step One: Acknowledge the mess-up.

Step Two: Treat Hannah like the irreplaceable force she clearly was.

Step Three: Don't let personal feelings mess this up any further. Don't let it screw it up for the label, for the artist, for whatever this thing was between them.

She straightened her spine, adjusted the cuff of her blazer, and turned to face the direction Hannah had disappeared.

No more flinching, no more floundering, and no more rash assumptions. It was time to show up like the boss she was supposed to be. Like the boss she wanted to be–unlike her father. And maybe, if the universe didn't hate her, Hannah might be willing to listen.