Haze

Chapter 1

Whoa.

I was standing there in the subway, absolutely transfixed by the individual cars flying by in front of me. They all looked identical, yet none of the people occupying them were the same. Everyone had a different story, a different place they were headed, a different purpose for their actions.

I sometimes found myself zoning out when that rush of sound and air hit me. It wasn't just a nervous response; no, it was more like hypnosis or a drug. The problem was I had missed my train multiple times in the past after getting distracted. Today, that wasn't an option.

Thus far, New York City hadn't been bad to me, but still, I felt as if I barely belonged. Just a few short months ago, I had been at Michigan State University, unsure what my future held. And then, like a magician revealing the hidden coin behind my ear—oh, and I would definitely keep that coin to put toward my student loan debt—this job landed in my lap.

I was working at a record label. It was sort of like a paid internship, one where I'd have flexibility going forward. Honestly, it paid pretty well, but I think the main reason I was there was for the experience. My dad insisted that I take such a job because this wasn't some tiny, hole-in-the-wall independent label—no, this was the big leagues. This was MCI Music Group, one of the biggest labels in the world.

Only problem is I wasn't really into music. I actually recognized a number of the artists and talents on the label from the radio, but I just wasn't that into them. I wasn't like some of my friends from home who cruised Pandora and Spotify all day, looking for whoever the hottest new indie band was and then attending concerts on the weekend. Nope, that wasn't me.

Thankfully, I was going to be more on the financial side of things. I could crunch numbers, and so I guess that's what made me appealing. If they had wanted me to sign new talent—I'm sorry, but picking out the next Justin Bieber was just not my thing—I probably would have turned down the position.

So why was today so special?

I noticed that my train had arrived and I ran inside, pushing through the throbbing maze of people until I found a seat. Every day, I just sat in silence, listening to the loud hum of the train and the quiet chatter of people. Today, for the first time ever, I took notice of all of the headphones in people's ears, the white ear buds that shielded them from the sounds of the real world. They were all lost in music. It seemed like a sign...

***

I had been here for just under a month, doing sales reports and other bland, mindless tasks at the MCI offices. My boss, Sam, was a decent guy, and he was reasonably nice to me, despite the fact that I just assumed he'd be an a*shole because this was NYC, after all. In fact, he was so reasonable—he actually invited me!—that he was allowing me to sit in on today's meeting, a meeting with a guy named Jack Teller.

The only thing I knew about Jack Teller was that he was somewhat of a Renaissance man. Oh, and that he was actually rich and talented, not just a wannabe big shot. That was it. Frankly, I just didn't care that much. I assumed that if I were at this job long enough, eventually I'd develop an appreciation for such things. If this position had been in Hollywood, it would have been a much different situation for me. There had to be some crossover between the two industries, right?

A girl could only hope...

Honestly, it wasn't that I had specific goals in Hollywood, just that I found it more fascinating that the music industry. But I had a job, so I wasn't complaining.

I got to the office early and poured myself a cup of coffee that happened to be freshly brewed. Score! Getting to work early had meant that I had to forego my usual stop for an Americano—but this would suffice just fine. On top of that, it was free.

The meeting was about twenty minutes away, so I sat down at my computer and answered a couple of emails.

Jack Teller.

I kept thinking about his name as I typed, my curiosity suddenly piqued. I started to type it into the search bar, amazed at how many things were popping up before I even pressed enter.

Rapid rise to fame and fortune.

Music industry mogul and genius.

Breakup with Stacy Levons.

Stacy Levons? That was a name I actually knew, an actor I really admired. My heartbeat upped a tiny bit as I slowly moved the cursor to click on her article.

"Hey, Effie, are you ready?" It was Sam, standing right behind me. He was dressed up a little more nicely than usual, his slightly oversized red dress shirt buttoned almost to the top. His black khakis definitely fit him better than the shirt did. I kept my cool despite the fact that he had startled me.

"Uh, yeah, okay, one second," I said. I closed the window I had opened and turned to face him. "Is it time already?"

"A couple minutes away." He kept nervously checking his watch, a fancy gold-banded thing that glimmered whenever sunlight struck it. "This is a really big deal. You're about to witness history."

I let out an awkward chuckle. "Well, I hope he doesn't back out, because I barely know what I'm doing."

"You're not there to negotiate," he said. "Just watch—and look pretty."

"Thanks a lot for believing in my abilities, Sam," I said playfully. "I'm always glad to be your doormat." We had a great rapport. In fact, aside from a minor awkward period at the beginning—sometimes it could be difficult to deal with a man a blunt as Sam—things had been pretty good. I liked that the atmosphere wasn't so strict, even though it was a corporate environment.

He started to walk toward the boardroom where our meeting would take place in a few short minutes, sending me a non-verbal hint that I should follow him. I took a seat next to the one he chose. The other side of the table was empty, but it wouldn't be for long. Soon it would seat Jack and anyone else he chose to bring along to the meeting.

Did he have anyone else to bring? Eh, it didn't really matter anyhow.

"This is so big for me, Effie. I've been trying to get Jack in here for a long time." He kept nervously tapping his fingers against the smooth surface of the table. I'd never seen him this nervous before. "I just hope I can break through to him. He's brilliant."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," I said. I didn't really know what else to say. He was sort of making me nervous, even though I was just supposed to be an observer.

We sat there for what seemed like hours, staring at a nice blank spot on the wall where a clock would have fit nicely. "Dammit, where is he?" Sam kept muttering those same words under his breath. As far as I could tell, he was essentially terrified that he had already blown his big opportunity.

I slowly nursed my coffee, taking tiny sips as we continued to wait for the infamous Jack Teller. Even though Stacy Levons was only in her late-twenties, for some reason I imagined Jack as being an older, more seasoned veteran of the entertainment business.

"I can't believe this shit," Sam said. "These big guys are so full of themselves. I'll be right back." It was such a blatant departure from his former optimism. He stood up and briskly walked out of the boardroom, his steps pounding into the carpeted floor. I could only hope Jack hadn't been standing outside as Sam cursed him...

I played with my phone for a couple of minutes, distracting myself from the fear that this big shot was going to walk in while I was all alone—but it didn't happen. Eventually, my restlessness got the best of me and I stood up with my coffee, slowly pacing around the office as I waited for Sam to return.

After doing a couple of laps around the room, a business card from a hair salon fell out of my pocket and fell on the floor right in front of the door. I leaned down to pick it up, my coffee still in hand.

"Hey, I'm so sorry I—"

The voice hit my ears at the same time the body struck mine, a collision for the ages. My cup of coffee flew out of my hand and spilled across the front of my dark blue blouse. "Shit!" I stood up and set the now-empty cup on the table, examining the damage. There was a huge, dark stain across the front, all the way from my chest to my stomach. Thank God it had cooled off by then.

And then I saw him.

Jack Teller was gorgeous, his white smile nearly blinding, his body taut and perfectly muscular. Probably six foot three, he towered over my meager five foot four. Freshly clean shaven, but would have been perfectly fine with stubble. Classically beautiful, yet modern, urbane.

I couldn't break eye contact with him once it began, his eyes so green, so striking that I could almost drown in them. He was clad in a nice pair of light brown slacks—almost the same color as his hair—that complemented his charcoal sports coat and dress shirt. There was something terribly interesting about him.

He was like the perfect blend of artsy and business oriented. His attire was an obvious attempt to look the professional part, yet his messy brown hair seemed to reveal something entirely different, the tufts flowing in every possible direction. It was just long enough that you could pull on it...

"God, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm Jack. I didn't see you there." He reached out his hand to shake mine—and time seemed to stop.

Dammit, why was this happening to me?

I froze. Honestly, it was as if I were at the subway. I was stuck, my mind in some other space entirely as the world roared around me. And then, everything rushed back at once, an explosion of lights and colors and sounds. "I'm Effie!" I said. It came out far louder—and excitable—than I intended.

"Let me get you some paper towel," he said as he disappeared around the corner. I heard some mumbling in the background and then suddenly wondered if he was actually going to come back. If he was a super stuck-up businessman, he might just walk out instead of dealing with the undignified hassle of bringing poor me paper towel.

It also seemed very possible that the whole encounter had just been my mind playing tricks on me. Maybe Jack Teller was just an apparition. So many possibilities and so little time to deal with them.

"God, I'm so sorry," he said as he handed me a wad of paper towel. He came back! "I was late, and then I rushed in and—"

"No, no, it's okay," I said, wanting to avoid any additional apologies on his part.

"Effie, what the hell happened?" Sam had stepped into the doorway and only saw me wiping down my blouse with paper towels. A look of horror formed on his face when he realized that his star potential client was standing right next to me. "J-jack?" he mumbled, half to himself, half to Jack.

"Hi, Sam. Jack Teller, as you probably already knew. Sorry, I'm late. Long night in the studio."

Sam's perplexed look was almost as mesmerizing as Jack's beauty. "Uh, Effie, do you have a change of clothes? Why don't you go switch out of those—"

"I think she looks great," Jack said with a smile. "Take a seat, Effie." He was giving my name a test drive after hearing Sam say it.

I blushed and stood there silently for a few seconds, entirely unsure of whose orders I should take. However, my gut told me to sit down. "You can barely see the stain," I said proudly as I reoccupied my former chair.

"Sure, sure, right." Sam closed the door and then walked past me and sat down where he had been before. "Mr. Teller, I really can't tell you how thrilled I am to have you here. You could do huge things with MCI." His tone was ingratiating.

"I'll see what you have to offer my client, and then I'll make my decision." Jack's words were firm, yet reasonable.

The two men started to converse somewhat rapidly, exchanging terms that I didn't understand, making references that were lost on me. I began admiring Jack's cadence when he spoke. The words seemed to flow effortlessly from him, the rhythm so subtle and controlled. There was a tiny twitch in his lip that seemed to surface after every couple of sentences, almost as if his muscles were trying to get in their fair say as well.

I almost burst out laughing at the though.

My mind started crawling toward the gutter, something that was incredibly unusual for me. I don't know if it was the boring subject matter or what, but I imagined my hands in Jack's hair, holding on tightly as he had his way with me. Something—well, Sam, more precisely—told me that Jack was very good at most things he did, and I was certain that the bedroom was another area where he excelled.

"And will Ms. Effie," he trailed off. "What's your last name? I didn't get it before." His eyes burned into me again. He wouldn't look away until I answered, that was for sure.

"Jacobs," I blurted, again too loudly. My cheeks were flushed red and warm. I felt as if he somehow knew what I had been thinking.

"Is Ms. Jacobs going to be the one handling A&R with the artist?"

I suddenly felt very embarrassed. When I looked at Sam, he seemed to be on the same path I was. "I hadn't arranged for that yet. Ms. Jacobs was just listening in on our meeting. She's in accounting and I wanted to give her a feel for one of these—"

"I thought I had asked for a rep," Jack interrupted. "I thought I had made it very clear that I don't make deals without face-to-face meetings with all parties involved."

Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. "I don't remember you saying that. I thought this was just preliminary."

"What do you think, Ms. Jacobs? Is this the best possible deal for my client? She's a new artist and she needs the best in the business. Is MCI the best?" I couldn't figure out how to read the tone of Jack's words. There was a mixture of harshness and curiosity. It actually felt as if he wanted my input even though it seemed painfully obvious that he knew that I barely grasped the situation.

I gulped, wishing I had something to drink. "I'm sure Sam can work out a fair deal with you, Mr. Teller." I didn't know what the hell I was saying.

"Jack, please. I'll drop the Ms. if you drop the Mr. Sounds too formal."

"Jack," I said, fulfilling his request.

"A fair deal, huh? That's all you can offer?"

I could tell that Sam was doing all in his power to keep himself composed. He had become so fragile, yet he was fighting hard to retain a positive outward appearance. "Jack, I'm sure we can—"

"No," Jack interrupted. "I like that. She didn't make a bunch of empty promises like I'm used to you people making. I'll very seriously consider MCI. But for now, I must be on my way. If this is a go, my people will call your people, all right?"

He stood up at once and shook Sam's hand very quickly before moving to mine. No, this wasn't some normal handshake. Our right hands connected and then he brought his left hand over my right, caressing my palm and lightly stroking my knuckles. A shiver broke out across my body, one that I fought to hide.

"It's been a pleasure," Jack said, his brilliant pale green eyes burning into mine. Again, I couldn't look away.

"Thanks, Jack," Sam said awkwardly as the music business mogul and genius departed the boardroom and closed the door behind him. After he had disappeared, I collapsed in the chair, my lungs deflating immediately like an untied balloon.

"What the hell was that?" I said. "The whole thing was so surreal."

"At least he was nice to you," Sam said.

"Is that a good thing? He seemed so cocky," I mumbled, hoping that Jack didn't suddenly reappear in the door.

"Some of these guys are like that. They get famous and their appetites only get worse. If they want it, it's theirs." He paused and then a warm smile broke out across his face. "Hell, I'd do the same thing too if I could."

"Sam!" I cried. "That's terrible. There's more to life than girls and fancy vacations."

"Don't be so sure about that," he said, his smile remaining. "I can't believe he played me like that in front of you, though. Tough son of a bitch."

"What are you talking about?" I wasn't sure what he meant. The whole thing had seemed unusually intense, but I had assumed it was typical in this line of work.

"This was a preliminary meeting. He never said anything about having an A&R person here. I don't know why he said that. I'm not making this up."

"Well, you know better than me." This whole development confused me even more, and something told me that my future was going to include a lot more moments like this one.

"I wish that were the case." Sam shrugged. "I really do."