Three's a Crowd

☆ Prologue ☆

There was a sigh of finality that echoed the slap of the leather-bound notebook against the cherry wood desk. This gorgeous near-top floor room was now her office. And in the sunlight that beamed through the floor to ceiling windows that made up three out of four of the walls, shone a golden record; the first golden hit achieved under her management.

With the new office came new responsibilities, ones to which the brunette was not yet fully accustomed. Of course she'd gotten a hit before, in fact it was that hit that landed her the position of assistant manager, but that was under a much older, much more established, much richer record label. And, on top of that, the band in question was already famous. Yet still, since the international success of Bon Jovi's Runaway, Suzy's coworker and longtime friend Raul convinced her they had what it took to start up their own label: Misery Records.

"I still think that name is a jinx." The girl stated matter-of-factly, glancing over at the wet-headed man lazing on her loveseat.

Raul was the most consistently successful of the marketers working for Mercury Records, and he certainly had the confidence to match his accomplishments. He'd worked with Deep Purple, David Bowie, Ringo Starr and even Paula Abdul. His talents transcended genre, and now they were going to find out if they transcended Mercury Records, too.

"It's no jinx, angel. It's dangerous." He purred, repeatedly attempting and failing to strike a match with a cigarette nestled behind his ear.

Suzy rolled her eyes at his attempts, sauntering over to him in her kitten heels to take the match and it's box from his fumbling hands.

"Yeah. Dangerous for business." The woman quipped, striking the flame in one strong and swift movement.

The sound of the matchstick burning crackled between the two of them as she carefully handed the torch over to her business partner. He slid his Camel from behind his ear, one side of it dampened with the greenish-grey residue of whatever product was slicking back his dark hair. Suzy scoffed, making her way back to her oversized desk.

"Think of all the crap that's in your hair gel. Now think about how that crap is going straight into your lungs."

"I'm already smoking nicotine, dear." He grinned with a light chuckle, bringing the flame to the end of his smoke.

There were potted plants lining the shorter of the three glass walls to give an illusion of privacy, but Suzy was confident in having her back facing the city scape. She haphazardly plopped down in her leather chair, posture abhorrent as she peeled off her shoes and crossed her ankles atop her desk.

Raul enjoyed a few puffs in silence, his friend taking the time to choose her next words wisely.

"So, I'm impressed with all you've done so far — I mean, with getting us an entire floor of a high rise all to ourselves and all, but don't you think it's important for a record label to have... well, artists?"

The clean-shaven man perked up in his seat, eyes alight with realization. "I'm so glad you said that!" He exclaimed, clamoring to his feet and shuffling over to sit down by Suzy's stocking clad legs on her bureau.

"Fear not, lovely. I've got some real big-hitters lined up for us." His hands clumsily stabbed around behind the veil of his suit jacket, pulling out a small leather journal just as a thin stream of smoke poured from his nostrils.

He hummed as he eagerly fanned it open, thumbing through the mostly empty pages before letting out a throaty 'ah-ha!' behind cigarette-obstructed lips.

"Check these out." The man heavy-handedly slapped the book down before Suzy on an open page. "Read 'em and weep."

With a semi-playful roll of her eyes, the brunette picked up the booklet, breath hitching at the words scribbled over the pages in Raul's nearly illegible handwriting.

"No way in hell you got Van Halen!" She exclaimed, dropping her feet from the desk to the carpeted floor.

"Don't forget Def Leppard, KISS, Guns 'n' Roses and many others."

"Well, yeah, obviously, but you've got fricken Van fuckin' Halen!"

The man laughed. "Listen, Suz, do you wanna be a potty mouth or not?" His comment, however, was ignored by a star struck Suzy.

"How the hell did you pull this off?" She gasped, eyes still popped open as wide as one of those Japanese cartoons, head shaking in disbelief.

"Cold calling. What can I say? I'm a charming fella." Raul slid off of the table, prying his notebook from her loose grip and waltzing towards the wide open door.

Suzy was still stumbling over her words, unsure herself of what she was even trying to say. She had no idea how she was going to be able to keep her composure in the presence of one of her all time favorite bands.

"Close your mouth, fishie." Raul joked, knowing Suzy's mouth was still agape even with his back turned to her.

"And, Suz." He continued once he'd reached the exit, turning on his heels with a smirk before finishing his thought beneath the doorway. "Dress up nice tomorrow. We've got clients to impress."

☆