Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Seventy-Five

    Fourteen suited men were gathered around a long conference table. Their voices filled the room encased by three walls of frosted glass. The conversations ranged from golf game tales, to newly purchased yachts, to the woes that came with working in the upper levels of the entertainment industry. 

    A large projector screen lowered from the ceiling, orchestrated by an assistant concealed behind one of the frosted glass windows. Most conversation quieted, but not all.

    Ties loosened and some jackets were removed as executives lowered into their seats. Throats were cleared and phone ringers were silenced.

    One man recognized by the rest stood at the front of the room, near the screen. "I am sorry to gather you all here so late," he greeted. "A few of you are already in the doghouse with the wife."

    A few rumbles of laughter sounded in the room.

    "Tonight we are gathered here to view a live stream of concert footage from an artist we've recently signed to our label. Her face should be familiar to each and every one of you, as she has quickly skyrocketed to becoming a household name." He lifted a remote from the conference table and pressed one of the buttons. 

    An image of Mia Thomas filled the screen, a photo taken very early in her career. In the image, she wore a long multicolored dress with mesh netting covering the abdomen and sections of the skirt. 

    "Beautiful girl," one of the seated men remarked.

    "I can't remember the last time I've seen an artist in her genre fully clothed," another man commented. 

    That statement dredged up loads of conversation amongst the men.

    The gray-haired man at the front cleared his throat loudly to regain order in the room. Adjusting his glasses, he turned and regarded the image projected onto the screen. "She does have a rather unique sense of style, it's true. Ultimately, that's what this meeting is about. Tonight's concert footage is the first stop of her first tour. We are here to review the footage and make notes that will help guide her path as an artist. The question we should all be asking ourselves is, Is she the one?"

    Around the table, the men exchanged looks with each other. 

    "From what I've heard, she has Drake buzzing in her ear," one of the seated men said. "Are we sure we'd want to prop up someone who's under the influence of someone else?"

    The man at the front of the room smirked. "She's under his influence, and whose influence do you think he's under?"

    "He hasn't proven to be the best at following instructions," another of the seated executives pointed out. "Time and time again, he's marched to his own drummer - against our own advice."

    "And the choices he's made have made several of you millionaires," the man standing at the front of the room reminded him. "That's why we allow him to do what he wants. Mark my words, though, he's still on a leash. We've just...given him a lot of slack on that leash. He has earned that slack, because he's been our biggest cash cow. If at any time we needed to rein him in, we are capable. He isn't the topic of tonight. Mia is. To answer your question, yes. She may be the prime candidate for us to prop up. Drake won't be the roadblock you think he is, and if I'm wrong about that, it wouldn't take much to cripple what seems to be an already toxic relationship."

    A few quiet satisfied murmurs were the only response. 

    The image on the screen flipped to video footage showing a concert stage. The camera panned to show the rapidly filling seats in the arena.