“Yes, but I’ve learned I don’t like the stiff competition of the big boys as much as I like helping new artists. You know: the up-and-coming singer or band who may or may not make it to the big stage, but is really talented and should at least be given the chance to make a living doing what they love.”
Mel smiled. “You mean like The Four Saints.”
“Exactly. I’ve also been thinking about your sister-in-law.”
“Meg?”
“You mentioned the other day that she’s thinking about soloing again, but she doesn’t want to tour Europe or even the entire U.S. Maybe what she needs is small-scale representation—to protect her from the vultures.”
“Like her father, you mean.”
“And mine. Exactly.”
Mel loosened up enough to cross one leg over the other and bounce her foot, a thoughtful expression in her face.”You may have something there,” she said.
“The thing is,” Kitty said, leaning close, “I can’t do it alone. I’ll need help—a partner or partners—to pull this off.”
Mel looked startled. “Me?”
“You, and possibly Bart, though I haven’t discussed this with him, since I’m kind of making this up as I go along this morning.”
“Wow,” Mel said. She met Kitty’s frank gaze, and Kitty interpreted her expression as hopeful. “Where would you want to base this?”
“Well, we’d need to find an office space and some up-front money. I’m going to sell my condo, so that will give us start-up funding, especially if the boys and Meg are willing to sign with us right away, giving us some immediate income.”
Mel started to nod but then shook her head. “I have a better idea—if you’d like to hear it?”
Kitty offered her hand. “I think we’re on the verge of becoming partners, Mel, so of course I want to hear it.”
Mel grinned and shook her hand.
“You’ve been to Bart’s apartment, right? Well, you may not have seen it, but he’s got a big front room—a parlor, I guess it would have been called—that would make a great front office.”
“We’d have to get permitted…”
Mel waved Kitty off. “That shouldn’t be a problem. You wouldn’t have seen it, coming in from the back as you did, but the street Bart and John’s house is on has several first-floor professional offices in a few of the old houses. So far there’s an attorney, a CPA, a piano teacher—that sort of thing.”
“Perfect,” Kitty said. “Do you think Bart will go for it?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“Great. Then I also want to find a small recording studio—or a place we can turn into one.”
“Recording studio?”
“Yes. You know what it was like for the Saints to find places in the city to rehearse and record when they were first starting out. I think we should offer that service for the young talents we find…”
Their conversation continued in that vein, as they brainstormed ideas for what their new agency could become. At one point, Kitty got up to finish packing, while Mel opened her steno pad and hastily scribbled notes. For a moment, Kitty forgot all about being unemployed and homeless.
Then her office door banged open, and she looked up to see her father standing there, his face a mask of fury.
49
“What the hell is going on in here?” he shouted. “And where the hell have you been?”
Kitty set the last of her books in a file box and closed the lid.
“Good morning to you, too, Dad.
“That will be all, Mel,” she said, turning to her new partner. “You can go get started, now.”
“Wait just a damn minute!” Konstantine shouted. “What do you mean by this?”
He brandished a crumpled sheet of paper at her, and Kitty was fairly certain of what it was.
“I’m guessing that’s my letter of resignation,” she said, stepping forward to lean against the front of her desk. She crossed her arms, hoping he wouldn’t notice her trembling hands.
“You can’t just quit!”
“I’m afraid I just did.”
When he began cursing in earnest, she held up a surprisingly steady hand.
“I’ve only preempted your own move, Dad,” she said. “You made it clear yesterday that if I didn’t come through with a new contract that put The Four Saints in Opryland, I was finished here. Well, they won’t be signing any such contract.”
“In fact,” Mel said, stepping to Kitty’s side in a show of solidarity, “they won’t be renewing their current contract with this agency, once it runs out at the end of this month.”
“You can’t know that!”
“I have it on the best authority, Mr. Konstantine.”
“Whose?”
Kitty actually laughed. “Good God, are you really so unaware of everything that’s going on around here that you don’t know Mel is Mrs. Matt Saint? They’ve been married over a year.”
When Konstantine only blustered, Kitty shook her head.
“Let’s go, Mel.”
“You can’t just leave!”
“Are you ladies ready?”
Kitty glanced toward the door and felt a wash of relief at the site of Bartholomew Saint leaning on the door jamb, his hands in his pockets and a smile playing at his lips.
“Just about,” Kitty said. “Can you give me a hand with these two boxes?”
“Sure.”