discovered by males.’
Rose seethed.
‘Because women are physically inferior, and that meant men could control them. The technological age has levelled the playing field.’
‘Then today we should see equality. And we don’t. Because many women prefer to be kept by their man.’
‘Some women regard motherhood as a full-time occupation.’ ‘Do you?’
Rose shook her head. ‘I regard it as a relationship, not a job description.’
Jacob smiled. ‘You’re one of these “having it all” types?’
‘Yes. I intend to strap my babies on my back and go right bgck to work. I’ll have a playpen in the office. Whatever it takes not to cteat
my children or my career.’ ‘And what employer do you think will allow you to do that? Rose shook her head. ‘Good office day-care should be mandatory. A happy worker is a productive worker. But I won’t be one of those poor women scouring the streets for an understanding employer, because I intend to work for myself.’ She glared at him. ‘I don’t know how you can talk that way.’
‘Because, quite simply, I am not afraid of the truth.’ Rothstein moved towards her, so their knees were almost touching; Rose half
shrank in her chair. ‘Not all women are like you.’
‘And not all men are like you.’
‘Women are not interested in equals. They are interested in superiors.’
‘Then I suppose I shouldn’t be interested in you,’ Rose snapped. ‘You seemed pretty interested last week. When I kissed you.’ ‘Maybe it was all an act.’
Jacob shook his head. ‘Part of it may have been, Rose, but not all of it.’
She felt her skin priclde. Part of it may have been.., could she have underestimated him? Had he not bought in to her act?
251
‘Not all of it,’ Rose admitted.
‘Why don’t we conduct a little field experiment?’
Jacob moved closer to her on the couch, put his two strong hands on her knees, leaned in towards her, and kissed her.
Rose felt the fires start again. They licked along her skin, up her belly, across her breasts, making her light-headed. His mouth on hers was gentle, but relentless; his teeth lightly raking her lips, his tongue probing, not too deep, feeling her lips part and open to him, her head tilt, the stiff aggression in her body release, until all her bones were liquid and she wanted to melt …
Jacob loved it. She was a slow conquest, not clawing back at him like he was used to. A girl usually had one hand in his buttons, the other in his hair, if she was that modest. Fioretlo was awkward, nervous, old-fashioned. Even inexperienced, he thought. It was startling. And charming.
And sexy. He loved to master women. The longer the seduction, the better he liked it. Sex could sometimes leave Jake feeling empty, a little sordid. He had waited for Rose, and now he was going to have her. It felt all the more delicious.
She’d be very hot. He couldn’t wait.
‘Stop.’
He felt a small, manicured’ hand against his chest, pushing him back.
‘What?’ P,,othstein blinked, stunned. ‘What the hell is it now?’ ‘I can’t do this,’ Rose said.
‘You - you what? You can’t do this? You came up to my office naked. You peeled off those little panties for me right in public.’ He knew he was being cruel, but he was frustrated and furious. ‘And now you want to be modest, act like a lady? A little late for that, don’t you think?’
‘You goddam bastard. Nobody could see.’
Jacob got to his feet. ‘What are you, some kind of virgin?’ ‘Yes,’ Rose stammered. ‘Actually.’ ‘Bullshit,’ Pothstein said coldly.
Rose stood up, walked out to the hall, grabbed her coat and purse, and fled.
252
‘You like it?’ Joel Stein asked.
Poppy looked over her office. It was small, but functional. It even had a window looking out towards the gleaming Mercedes and BMWs that drove down the Sunset Strip, sparkling in the sunlight. Stein had provided her with a computer, a phone, a printer, a fax, and even her own couch, a funky kidney-shaped thing in burgundy velvet.
Poppy grinned. ‘I love it.
Joel handed her a business card. ‘And how about this?’
Her heart skipped a beat. It had her name in neat black ink )n it, very grown-up, very businesslike: ‘Poppy Allen, Dream Man pounds ement’. Then it had her direct phone and fax number next to te Dream logo, a cloud picked out in embossed gold …..
‘No job title,’ Stein said. ‘Nobody has titles here but me.’ ‘And what’s yours?’
‘Boss,’ he said simply. ‘Now listen, toots. You did good. Better than good. Which is why you’re not a tour accountant any more.
I’m going to see what you can do. I’m giving you a band to handle.’ ‘Green Dragon?’ Poppy asked hopefully.
Stein laughed. ‘Yeah, right. What are you, crazy? You get to handle Silver Bullet. You brought them to me, let’s see what you can do with them. You’ll find people will take your phone calls when you’re calling from Dream.’
‘OK,’ said Poppy. It wasn’t a big band, it.wasn’t even a real band yet. But it was her band. ‘OK.’
‘There are people who don’t like you,’ Stein said.
‘What? Why?’
‘Because they’ve been working here longer than you have. Years, in some cases. And who still aren’t getting a shot like this. Plus, you’ve got a serious enemy in Mike Rich. And you’re going to get others. This business is not for shrinking violets.’
253
Poppy squared her shoulders and looked her boss in the eye.
‘I got in to see you. That shows initiative. I found a great band for
you. That shows talent. I survived a road trip. That shows stamina.
And I stopped a crooked guy ripping off your client. That shows
smarts. I’m in this office because you think I deserve to be. And the
fact is, you’re right.’
‘Hmrn.’ Stein crooked an eyebrow. ‘Chutzpah, yet. Let’s see if
you can back it up with action.’
He made to leave the room. Poppy let him go. She wanted to ask,
‘Now what?’ but she didn’t. She knew that was up to her.
,
‘You’re going to manage us?’ Kate said.
Poppy sat in her office behind the desk, with the girls on the
couch. They looked somewhat underwhelmed. She knew they were
disappointed, that they thought Joel Stein would be handling them
personally. And now they were right back with Poppy; a kid from a
failed band, a kid their own age.
She had to inspire confidence.
‘That’s correct. Me for Dream Management: The first thing
Dream is going to do is get you signed. I have a showcase gig
booked in two weeks, girls. 1Leps from all the major labels will be
attending.’
Now they sat up. Poppy watched the band exchange glances.
‘What I want you to do is two things: rehearse till you can
perform the songs in your sleep, and get even prettier. Molly,’ Poppy
turned to the plump brunette, ‘you’re going on a diet. I know it’s
sexist and it sucks, but these are men, all men, and they’ll be looking
at you guys. No White Castle this week. You’re strictly on Slim Fast.’
Molly looked as though she were about to argue the toss, but
Poppy ploughed on. Tve got a stylist booked for tomorrow
afternoon. She worked wardrobe on the Green Dragon tour last
Fall.’
‘Wow, Green Dragon,’ Claire muttered.
‘Just think of this as a makeover.’ Poppy leaned forwards. ‘I’m
gonna to get you guys signed, I’m gonna get you on the radio. I’m
gonna make you stars. And all you have to do is listen to me.’
‘How long is the showcase going to be?’
‘Half an hour. You’re only going to do five songs.’ Poppy passed
them the set list.
‘I think we should do everything we’ve got,’ Kate argued.
254
‘No. Just the best stuff. These are your best, wouldn’t you agree?’ l
The next day Poppy called the stylist. She told her it was a personal favour for Joel Stein. She called the record companies and told them this was Joel’s hottest new act and she was .just able to slip them in before a general submission went out. Then she called the lighting director from the tour and asked him for the name of a friend, and the same for the sound guy …
It was a buzz. It was even better than the road. Poppy felt as though her phone had been permanently welded to her ear. She lied, she dissembled, she pleaded, she got things done. She didn’t sleep all that much. When she finally got to go home at night, she instead went straight out to the broken-down warehouse where the band was rehearsing, and stayed up with them, making sure everything was perfect.
It wasn’t just sound. That had to be slick, but so did the moves. Even the way Lisa twirled her drumsticks.
Most every new act was rough, unpolished. Not her bibjes. Poppy wanted them to be groomed, to look like pros.
‘Manicures?’ Molly groaned. ‘Manicures. Eyebrow waxes. Get your teeth whitened.’ Popp3 spun her bassist around to look in the mirror. ‘You’ve dropped about eight pounds.’
‘My clothes don’t fit,’ Molly grumbled, but she looked pleased. ‘I don’t see why we have to do all this work,’ Kate said petulantly. ‘We’ll be playing in the middle of the day. There’ll be no atmosphere …’
‘Actually,’ Poppy said quietly, ‘I got a pro lighting guy and a sound mixer coming. It’ll be dark and you’ll be spot-lit, multiple colours, big sound, everything perfect.’
Kate gaped. ‘But do you know how much those guys cost?’ ‘In your case, nothing.’ Poppy shrugged.. ‘I arranged it all.’ ‘You’re incredible,’ Lisa said.
Tm just. the manager,’ Poppy told them.
The day before the gig, Poppy marched them into the hairdressers.
‘You’re getting a new look,’ she said. ‘Lisa, you’re going to have brown hair. Kate, you’re going blonde. Claire will be a redhead and Molly’s going raven-black.’
255
‘But I like being blonde,’ Lisa protested.
‘Doesn’t matter. It’s a gimmick. One of each hair colour. Once you’re signed, you can go back, if you still want to. The singer is the
front woman, she has to be blonde.’ ‘Sounds great,’ Kate purred. Lisa scowled, but she submitted.
They were beginning to do everything she told them.
The day of the gig, Joel was there. Poppy had made sure the little club was packed with executives. She had radio guys there, promoters, local TV stations, even some pony-tailed Armani wearing suit from MTV.
Silver Bullet came out to dimmed lights, even smoke from the dry ice. Poppy had taken pro headshots of each girl, heavily made up, and had them blown up to gigantic size. They hung around the walls of the club. Spotlights swirled over the excited crowd even before the first note was played.
And then her act burst on to the stage. They wore semi-matched outfits in black and silver PVC, very Barbarella. Their hair colours looked fantastic. Kate’s hair was a gleaming fountain of platinum. The lights were bright, ama,zingty flattering and soft. And then, through a wall of professionally mixed speakers, they started to play.
For twenty minutes they ripped through the set. Just the best songs, performed fast and sleek. When they finally left the stage, hair flying, Kate blew little kisses, waggling her fingers like a cheerleader;
Molly shoved her fists in the air like a biker. Huge applause. House lights up.
Poppy was surrounded by drooling talent scouts, pressing cards on her, telling her to call them.
She looked over at Joel Stein, standing at the back. For once in his life being ignored.
He winked at her.
After that it was gravy.
Poppy signed the band to Musica records for an advance of a million dollars. She didn’t let them spend more than five grand of it. She rented them an apartment, found them a producer, booked them on tour with Diamondback, one of Dream’s mid-size acts. By the time the record was out, Silver Bullet had already been on three magazine covers.
256
Their first single went in at number 5 in the rock charts, number
t5 in the Billboard Hot TOO. It broke out on radio like a rash and peaked at number 7
Silver Bullet were stars. And so was Poppy.
257
Poppy was good at it. Better than Joel Stein had expected. Better than she had expected.
Nobody wanted to take her seriously, but that, Poppy thought, was their problem. She wasn’t gonna tone herself down for anyone.
She was young, and she wasn’t going to try to dress old. No red power-suits with gold braiding and shoulder-pads. She wore jeans and Metallica shirts with high, strappy heels; little black dresses that clung to her curves; denim shorts with a Daisy Duke-tied shirt over the top. Poppy liked to wear her hair loose, to go light on make-up and perfume. Most days she wore nothing except sunscreen and a little scent, Hermes perhaps..She didn’t need much else.
Several times Poppy got turfed out of offices. MTV told her: ‘We don’t let fans in the lobby, miss.’ Record company receptions called
security. Bank managers rolled their eyes.
Not for long.
Poppy was armed. She carried her business card like a weapon. And she had Silver Bullet.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Kate said.
‘Believe it.’ Poppy grinned at her singer. ‘The cover of Rolling, Stone.’
Molly looked as though she wanted to cry. They were in the back of the limo, riding towards the losebowl, where Silver Bullet were third on the bill at the Monsters of Rock Festival, behind Skid Row and Guns n’ loses. Her girls looked great; Poppy had worked out a black-and-silver theme for the set, to coincide with the band’s name. She’d come up with a new look for them, which would be featured in Jan Wenner’s prestigious magazine. Ironically, the once-rebellious Rolling Stone was now as establishment as it got.
Gracing the cover was an industry stamp of approval. One that said: ‘Made it.’