Pirate's Gold (3 page)

Ryan grinned uneasily and scanned his notes. “The most interesting thing is that Festival is run by a woman, but you already know that. Have you ever worked with her?”

Kyle nodded. He looked calm but vengeful. His expression made Ryan uncomfortable. “I've met her a few times…parties, social gatherings, but she's kept her distance. Most of the day-to-day office work is done between our secretaries.”

“She's something novel in the recording industry—a woman making a go of it in a predominantly man's world.” Kyle agreed with Ryan's assessment. When he'd met Maren, Kyle had been surprised by her cool dignity and grace. He's noticed that she was more than beautiful; she had a sophisticated manner that intrigued him. He'd been interested, but wary.

“There aren't many female executives in this business…” Kyle commented absently.

“From what I understand, Maren McClure is not just any woman. This lady is a mixture of beauty, brains and artistic talent. The kind that makes men like me very uncomfortable.”

“Why?” Kyle asked sternly.

The question was unexpected. “Because she's different, I guess. She can't be pigeonholed.”

Kyle's laughter held no mirth. “And that's how you like your women—stereotyped?”

“I didn't say I liked them that way, I said it made me feel more comfortable.”

“And you think she might sell the company?”

“It's a good guess. She's always in need of money.”

Kyle's eyes darkened. “How do you know that?”

“I talked with one of her employees. According to this guy, she runs that office on a shoestring.”

“I wonder why?”

Ryan shrugged. “Who knows?”

“I guess I'll have to talk to Ms. McClure and see if she's interested….” A wicked smile of satisfaction stole silently over the features of Kyle Sterling's famous face. He didn't understand it, but the thought of meeting with Maren McClure was pleasant…very pleasant.

M
AREN CLOSED HER EYES
and removed the clasp restraining her hair. As it fell around her shoulders she pushed her fingers through the thick auburn curls, hoping to release the tension of the afternoon. Slowly she leaned her head against the padded back of the overstuffed couch that adorned her office. Out of habit she rewound the tape for the fifth time and tried to concentrate on the mood of the song. It was difficult. Though the tempo was a light reggae, the lyrics were downbeat, a real bluesy type of song; one of those country western crossovers that always seemed to give Maren fits.

The phone rang and interrupted her thoughts. She snapped off the tape player, walked across the room and leaned over the desk to answer the call from her secretary. “Yes?”

“Kyle Sterling is on line one. Can you take the call? He says it's important,” Jan explained.

Maren's elegant black brows pinched together. “I always have time for the head of Sterling Records,” Maren replied. “Thanks.” She sat on the edge of the desk, removed her earring and pushed the flashing button on the phone. Using her most professional voice, she spoke. “Good afternoon, Mr. Sterling. This is Maren McClure. How can I help you?” If she was nervous, it wasn't audible in the even tone of her voice.

“I'd like to meet with you, Ms. McClure.”

Maren frowned to herself. His request was out of the ordinary, and from what she knew about Mr. Sterling, he usually didn't do the legwork himself. He preferred the privacy he could well afford. The one time he had been in the office concerning one of his artists had been brief and to the point. From that one experience Maren realized that Kyle Sterling was a determined man who didn't waste his time. “Is there any particular reason or problem?” she asked, remembering the as yet unfulfilled contracts on several of Sterling's top artists. Maybe that was why he was calling. He wanted to cancel. Maren nervously tapped her fingers on the desk.

Kyle didn't hesitate. He knew that discretion was in his favor. “Nothing serious, Ms. McClure,” he assured her. Maren's jaw tensed and the headache that had been threatening all afternoon began to pound in the back of her head. “When would be a convenient time for you? Sometime this afternoon?”

Maren quickly scanned her appointment book. It was filled for the rest of the week. “I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling. Today is impossible and I'm afraid the rest of the week is hectic as well. If you can give me a few minutes, I'll try to make some calls and rearrange my schedule so we could meet on Monday of next week.” Kyle Sterling was one of the most important names in the recording industry and a valuable client to Festival Productions. Whatever it was he wanted to discuss, it was certain to be a matter of priority. The head of one of the fastest-rising recording companies in L.A. didn't call to pass the time of day.

“Are you free this evening?” he asked, taking Maren completely by surprise.

She didn't immediately respond. She dealt with pushy people every day, and she didn't really like it. Kyle Sterling was definitely pushy—but he had to be, didn't he? One didn't rise to the heights he had reached by being Mr. Nice Guy. “I don't have any plans,” she admitted.

“Then let's discuss business over dinner at Rinaldi's. I'll pick you up at the office…around seven. We can go to the restaurant from there.” It almost sounded like a command and involuntarily Maren's lips tightened. She'd been in this business five years and still hadn't gotten used to the way big shots threw their weight around. Trying to ignore Sterling's demanding tone, she once again checked her calendar.

“Could you make it seven-thirty? I have a late appointment that might run over.”

“Fine.”

Maren didn't replace the receiver until she had heard the sound of Kyle Sterling ringing off. She reflected on the telephone conversation. It was strange. She'd been working with recording companies for nearly five years and she could count the number of times on a single hand that Kyle Sterling had called her for what sounded like an imperative meeting. Usually any business was concluded over the phone by one of his underlings. She wanted to think that her luck was finally changing, and that the reason for the call was an offer of exclusive business, but she couldn't. Instead she was overcome by a disturbing sense of restlessness.

What could he want? She gazed out the window, past the flowering cherry trees to the hazy Hollywood hills in the distance. The soft blue slopes rose quietly out of the suburbs of Los Angeles, seeming to guard the sprawling city.

Still sitting on the desk, she rang for her secretary. Jan's voice responded quickly. In the background Maren could hear the rapid clatter of typewriter keys as Jan didn't bother to break stride in her work. The woman was amazing.

“Could you bring in all of the unsigned contracts we have with Sterling Records?”

“In a flash,” the pert secretary responded.

True to her word, Jan appeared in Maren's doorway within a few minutes' time. Her purse was slung over one of her slim shoulders and she was balancing a thick stack of papers in her hands. “You're sure you want all of these?” she asked dubiously as she placed the heavy pile of legal documents in the middle of Maren's desk.

Maren's blue eyes widened in amazement. “None of these have been signed?” she inquired as she shook her head and began to shuffle through the stack.

“None.”

“But aren't some of these already on the production schedule?” She picked up one of the documents. “Here, this contract with Mirage, I'm sure I told Ted we'd be ready to shoot in a couple of weeks…” She spotted another contract. “And what about Joey Righteous? That kid wanted to get his tape out before he started his tour of Japan, which, I think, is slated for sometime in late June.”

“And it's already April.”

“Precisely! What the devil's been going on, Jan?”

“I wish I knew,” the thin secretary admitted. “For the last two and a half weeks, I haven't been able to get any signed contracts
or
information out of Sterling Records. I've called Angie Douglass—she's in charge of the contract department—at least twice a day since last Friday, and I haven't been able to get a straight answer out of her.” Jan dropped into a side chair near the desk as Maren studied the terms of a particular contract.

“Hasn't she given you a reason?”

Jan nodded her blond head. “Oh, sure she has. The usual. You know, ‘Mr. Sterling is out of town for the week,' or, ‘the artist is balking over a certain clause in the agreement,' or some other lame excuse.” Jan's mouth turned into a disgusted grimace and she fished in her purse for a cigarette. She looked tired and drawn, probably from too much work.

Maren pursed her lips together as she thought. “Then I take it you don't believe that Ms. Douglass is telling you the truth?”

“Not all of it.” Jan lit her cigarette, tilted her head back and blew a thin stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “She's always been very efficient, and now, out of the blue, she can't seem to get her act together.”

“So, you've surmised that someone is deliberately telling her to stall.”

Jan shrugged thoughtfully. “I really don't know. But something isn't kosher. I'd planned to let you know about it later today, after I'd given Angie one last chance.”

“You should have told me about it earlier.”

Jan smiled ruefully. “I didn't think you needed any more headaches.”

Maren returned the smile. “On that count, I'd agree with you. But maybe I could have gotten to the bottom of this mess.”

“Is that why Sterling called?”

“I wish I knew,” Maren replied. “He didn't say why he wanted to see me, just that it was important. When I couldn't see him this afternoon, he insisted upon tonight. I guess I'll find out soon enough.” Her light tone couldn't hide the worry in her eyes.

‘So, you're having a hot date with the infamous Kyle Sterling,” Jan teased with a nervous smile and a twinkle in her dark eyes.

“More like being called on the carpet, I'd guess.”

“You can handle him,” Jan predicted as she stubbed out her cigarette and rose to leave.

“What makes you so sure?”

Jan pretended confusion and touched the tip of her finger to her forehead as she winked. “What is it they say? Something about the bigger they are, the harder they fall?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Maren agreed with an uneasy laugh. Jan chuckled as she went back to the reception area and Maren continued to look over the contracts with Sterling Records. What was the hitch? Was Kyle Sterling considering pulling his account from Festival Productions?

Her stomach knotted as she thought about the last time she had seen Kyle Sterling. It had been her first and only glimpse into the personal side of the man. All other contact she had with him had been strictly business.

Nearly a year ago, feeling the pressures of social commitments for the sake of making a name for Festival Productions, Maren had accepted an invitation to a gala event celebrating Mitzi Danner's recently signed multirecord deal with Sterling Recording Company. In a much publicized event held at the attractive young singer's Beverly Hills address, Maren had quietly sipped her champagne and watched Kyle Sterling from a distance.

The man had style. Whether natural or acquired, genuine or fake, the man had style. Begrudgingly Maren noted that he always seemed to be the center of attention in a crowd of the Hollywood elite. He wasn't loud, quite the opposite. It was his understated manner, brooding gray eyes and flash of a rakish smile that made him stand out.

The festivities were held in the center courtyard surrounding an oval-shaped pool. The house was a rambling, two-storied nineteen twenties home built for a silent-screen star. It was as eccentric as the gaudy young singer who now occupied it.

Kyle had seemed at home beneath the colored Japanese lanterns that were strung from the fragrant lemon trees surrounding the pool, and yet, as Maren watched him, she noticed that there was something about him…a restlessness that added to his aloof charm. Through part of the celebration, he had somehow seemed detached, as if he would rather be anywhere else than in the throng of Hollywood faces who were milling around the oval pool. In the crowd of the most famous people in Hollywood, Kyle Sterling alone had held Maren's interest. She had tried to blame it on the fact that he was a powerful man in the recording industry, but she had the disturbing feeling that she was deceiving herself.

And now, at the memory of that warm summer night, Maren was apprehensive. She searched through the large stack of legal papers on the desk for some clue as to why Kyle Sterling wanted to see her. What was happening? Festival Productions needed Sterling Recording Company and, until earlier this afternoon, Maren had suspected the reverse to be true. If Sterling decided to pull his account, it would be difficult to keep Festival Productions operational. It was true that recording stars finally had discovered Festival and business was beginning to increase, but by the same token, the costs of expansion were staggering. On top of all the ordinary costs was the large outstanding debt to Jacob Green, the original owner of Festival. The escalating payments in the contract took an ever larger bite out of an already tight budget. All of which didn't begin to touch Maren's personal expenses, which were monumental. But that was her fault, she reminded herself grimly. Her fault and her responsibility. Unfortunately there was no end in sight.

It would be no less than a disaster if Sterling Records decided to pull out. Maren couldn't let it happen. She'd worked too hard to make Festival Productions profitable, and she wouldn't let it slip. She couldn't. If not for herself, she had to at least think of Brandon. He was depending on her.

Quickly she pressed the intercom button on the phone. “Jan, could you please cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the afternoon? Reschedule them for later in the week.”

“I'll give it a try…. What about Joey Righteous?”

Maren had to think swiftly. Joey was hot on the charts and a real pain in the neck. “Reschedule him for sometime…make that
any
time tomorrow and explain that I'm working with Mr. Sterling on Joey's latest solo album…what's the name?” Maren quickly retrieved Joey's contract from the stack. “Here it is…
Restless and Righteous,
can you believe that? Anyway, that should put him off for a while.”

“Put him off or tick him off?”

“Probably both.” Jan had a good point, but Maren persisted. “I know you can do it, Jan. You have a way of pouring oil on troubled waters.”

“And you have a way of conning me into anything.”

“You love it.”

“Sure. Sure I do,” Jan replied sarcastically. “Okay, I'll give it a try, but if Mr. Righteous comes blasting in here with one of his usual tirades, don't blame me.”

“Consider yourself absolved.”

Maren picked up the intricate pages of legal work, carried them over to the couch and flopped down in her favorite spot on the couch. She put on her reading glasses to survey the top document, which was a contract for five songs from the soon-to-be-released Mirage album. Maren began to pore over the complicated legal contract, hoping for just a glimmer as to why Kyle Sterling wasn't satisfied. Intuition told her he wanted something more from her, but she didn't understand what it was. Why had he been so insistent about meeting with her tonight? It didn't make any sense.