The Favor (BOOK 1 & BOOK 2 INCLUDED)

The Promise (Book 2)

I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm actually here, in Miami, getting my dream job. Succeeding. I just can't get over this high that I feel from actually being two steps away from my dream.

"This will be your apartment suite... For now. Depending on whether you make it or not you'll get a bigger space as time goes on," the man tells me. I can't stop staring at his teeth. His bottom front teeth are twisted out of place and a rotting yellow color coats them. His forehead has wrinkles as well as his under eyes and his cheeks sag, and his hair is light grey and slicked back with pounds of gel. The only thing I will admit to liking are his white-blue eyes.

"Okay. When do I move in?" I ask him to continue conversation. There have been too many times tonight that all I have heard are crickets and all that I'm breathing in is tension.

"As soon as possible." He unlocks the door with my soon-to-be key and opens it.

With one look at the apartment, I am in love. It is decorated with luxurious, glossy and expensive looking furniture. Small plants are sprinkled throughout the rooms, and the TV is bigger than I ever even imagined. The kitchen is sparkling clean, and then I notice that everything else is too. The small glass table sits in front of the back door covered by blinds, which must be a balcony. There is a small hallway that has one door on each of the three walls, and suddenly I see the door on the left wall open.

A tall, pale, scrawny guy with jet black floppy hair walks out of the room. "Sorry about that," he says with what seems to be panic in his brown eyes.

"No apology necessary," the old man starts. "Marcus, this is Lily. Lily, this is Marcus. He's a songwriter for the label, one of the best, actually. He lives here as well. I hope that's not a problem for you," he says it in a way that sounds like even if it were a problem, there's nothing I could do about it, so I don't press on the matter.

"Pleasure to meet you." I extend my hand towards him with a smile. He puts his clammy hand in mine and shakes it with a smile much smaller than mine. "It's not a problem at all, Mr. Delaware." Ah! That's his name, Mr. Delaware. I love it when you remember the most important things at the most perfect times.

"Good, then. I believe we've covered everything that I can talk to you about," he says as he flips through papers on a clipboard. "Marcus can show you your room and help you settle in. Feel free to ask him any questions. I'll be off, now," he tells us with no expression.

"Okay. Thank you for your time, Mr. Delaware."

"Mhm," he grunts on his way out the door.

"What's his problem?" I ask Marcus for some light-hearted conversation.

"He's been at this for twenty years. There's always a new one every four months. He and I have had plenty of practice with newbies like you," Marcus tells me flatly with his arms crossed. He's so freakishly tall that I have to practically crank my neck as much as I can to look in his eyes.

"What do you mean, 'a new one every four months?'"

He lets out a breath of air with a snide smile. "Singers like you come and go. This label is willing to take any talent they can get, even if they see no potential. Most singers fail within four months and are dropped from the label, and some make it, but that's rare. I've lived with a lot of people in my career, believe me." He walks over to the kitchen and opens the fridge to pull out a beer.

"Oh," is all I can say. The way he's talking to me makes me feel hopeless and doubtful, but then again, he hasn't seen me at work. He doesn't know how willing I am to succeed.

"But hey, who knows what's in store for you? You might just be one of those rare singers who actually make it. We won't know until we do."

"Yeah, I guess," I respond as I look around more. As I start to think, I realize I should have asked what his problem was.