Manage Me (Toven's Circus #1) Read online

  –

  Manage Me

  By

  Marlowe Fox

  ©Copyright Marlowe Fox 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  ARC Published Date

  September 22nd 2015

  No Part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the authors imagination and used fictitiously.

  Dedication:

  So many people helped to make this book happen but this first one

  goes to my two guys.

  My fiancé, thank you for supporting me in dream,

  My sweet boy, for being a good boy and letting me work most of the time.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Jaden

  I stomp out into the hallway and slam the door to the producer’s office. I’m livid that the label still doesn’t trust us. We’ve done our contracted four albums in the six years they gave us, and each one went double platinum worldwide. But they won’t let us write our own music and direct our own sound. We are burnt out on doing the same songs with the same message, it sounds lame but we want to go deeper and speak to our fans, not just bang out songs about all the fun we have, money we make, and all the chicks we fuck. We are not 18 year olds following our dicks everywhere…Okay we do still follow our dicks many place but not everywhere.

  Stewing in the hallway, a haunting sound seeps past my anger. A weeping violin cries out the melody of a song. The song I was just talking to the producer about. I listen intently, completely enraptured in the tone that calls to me. I make my way down the hall, turning left, then right. Making my way to a hallway lined with doors. I peek into the small window of each door and they are all dark, except the last one on the left.

  Standing tall in the light, a bright pink violin perched on her shoulder, a statuesque beauty stands. She grinds the bow across the strings. She moves and sways, using her whole body to make the sounds emanate from the instrument in her stable hands. Her long hair is so blonde it’s almost white. A large white fabric flower holds her hair back on the left side, allowing me to see the soft curve of her high cheek bone, where her long black eyelashes rest. Her skin is so smooth and creamy, I just want to run my tongue all over her.

  She wears a black corset top covered in white stitched vines. An inch of pale skin peaks out underneath, making my mouth salivate and my need itch. She wears a pair of dark washed distressed jeans that hug her long legs, and I smirk, seeing she wears the same black Chuck Taylors, that I do.

  Music completely forgotten, for the beauty before me, I reach for the door handle, finding it locked. Panic kicks into my heart and I continue to wiggle the knob. Despite the racket I am making, My Beauty is so lost in the music and doesn’t miss a single note. I raise my hand to pound on the window.

  “Jaden! There you are, Mate! I have been looking everywhere for you.” James, the producer I’d just walked out on, strides up to me. “Come on, I just got off the phone with Craven, we have more to discuss.”

  “Who is that?” I ask pointing at the window.

  “That’s just an intern.” He says swinging his arm over my shoulder leading me back the way I had come. “Craven says he would like you to play your song from him in a day or two.”

  Nell

  When I play music, my mind, and body become lost in the soul of the sound. We become one, and this piece, speaks specifically to my heart. While standing in James’ office, I became absent of all thought, James prattled on about one thing or another but I heard nothing. The second I heard the tone of the acoustic guitar my fingers began to itch for my Lil’ Ella (my violin) and Leon (my bow). The longer it played the less tethered to my form I became but when James abruptly hit stop, my essence slammed back into my body.

  I scurried through the rest of my day in a trance. I couldn’t wait to get home and get my hands on Lil’ Ella, so I could slog out the melody that continues circling in my head. It would sound just as captivating on piano but the violin would add a different depth of sadness and the sadness is what it called for. Racing home after work that night, I locked myself away in my music room, playing until dawn.

  Chapter 1

  Nell

  Riding the elevator up to the top floor of Deadly Sins Records, I stand anxiously waiting. My father is the owner of the label and I have been busting my ass since I was 18. Not only to work my way up in the company, but to gain respect. Being the owner’s daughter everyone assumed I was some spoiled twat, whose daddy was placating until I got bored. I also don't think being blonde and leggy helped my case any but I was determined to prove them wrong, and I really am good. At 18, I’d started out interning in the recording studio during the summers and was now an assistant to James, the head production manager. My end goal was to have James’ job, managing and producing. I just wanted to work with the talent and make music.

  My father, Gavin Crane, has worked in the music industry my whole life. I remember sitting at the feet of legends, as they played Christmas carols at holiday parties. Visiting the studio was always magic, as I watched history being made. To say music was my life would be a vast understatement. I lived and breathed it, every second, of every day.

  As the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open, I sweep a loose strain of pale hair behind my ear. I wanted to look professional today. I chose a Dolce & Gabbana, mid-thigh length, cream, leather skirt with laser-cut lace patterns around the bottom and paired it with a Rag & Bones sweater in ox blood red, and my favorite blush motor jacket. My long blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun with my bangs framing my face.

  My nude t-strap Louboutin's clacking on the black marble floor. I nod and wink at Melissa, my father’s secretary of 20 years. She gives me a big grin and a thumbs up. I make my way to his office doors, take a deep breath, and checking my watch
, 10am on the dot. I rap my knuckles on the door, turn the knob, and stop dead.

  ******************************************

  I feel my eyes grow huge and my heart slams in my chest. The most beautiful man sits before my father's huge mahogany desk. An acoustic guitar rests on his tight jean clad thigh, his fingers lovely stroking the strings causing a beautiful sound to erupt from deep within the instruments body. My gaze dances across the tattoos on his fingers, his hands, up his muscular arms, to his neck. There is color everywhere and I just want to get a closer look. His eyes are closed, he slightly tilts his chin and opens his mouth; a gravely deep voice emits through a pair of devastatingly delicious lips. Slowly his long lashes part and mossy green eyes sweep towards me, the right side of his lips jump into a smirk, showing a flash of dimple. I cannot help but bite my lip, at the zing of heat that rushes down my spine. His voice floats over my skin causing goosebumps to erupt.

  The strumming stops, and we stare at each other. A whistle causes us to both look towards my father. For being in his early 50's, he is still a very attractive guy. A full head of dark black hair that is just starting to silver at his temples and he shares my frosty blue eyes. Leaning forward on his elbows, he gives Mr. Delicious a once over.

  "Wow that was fucking fantastic, Jaden. But I'm not convinced it is Toven's Circus material." He says rubbing his eyebrow with his middle finger. It then hits me, the guy I have been mental banging, is Jaden James, the lead singer of Toven’s Circus. The biggest college douche bag rock/metal band in the country. I’m not a fan of theirs but up close, I was becoming a big fan of their lead singer. Trying not to make an ass of myself, by drooling on my Louboutin's, I step forward and softly clear my throat, to gain my father’s attention. This causes Jaden's eyes to drift back to me, traveling from the top of my head to the tips of my 4 inch heels, and back up again, his smirk growing as he travels. But as I shake myself free, I know his kind. He knows he is sexy, knows that his voice makes girls panties melt. He is cocky in the worst kind of way, and probably can't keep his dick in his pants. No, his kind of trouble isn't worth the heartache.

  "Ah, Nell! What did you think of Mr. James's little song?" My father asks in a condescending tone drawing my eyes away from Jaden.

  I step up to the edge of his desk, leaning my hip against it; I tilt my head, lifting my shoulder; giving Jaden a good look, "It was beautiful, but very different from Toven's Circus's signature sound." I stare down into Jaden’s glaring eyes and continue, "However, I think the fans, especially of the female ilk, will be grateful to have, the Jaden James crooning to them acoustically.” I say sharing grin with him. “I suggest playing it during the live shows, generate some interest, then releasing it as a bonus track on the new album."

  With eyebrows raised and a look of annoyance in his eyes, my father turns to Jaden. "Jaden James, I would like you to meet my daughter, Nell Crane, she is currently working down in production, however, I hear Toven's is in need of a new tour manager." A pregnant pause takes over the room, while Jaden and I stare at each other.

  Chapter 2

  Jaden

  When the door to Crane's office opens the air in the room shifts. I fumble a couple notes on the song, so I close my eyes, focusing on the words that come from deep inside my soul. This song means more than any other we’ve pitched to the label, it is important that we, that I, get to share this one with the world.

  As I play the last lick, her scent hits my nose, firing straight into my brain. My eyes snap open seeking her out. This woman is so stunning that my breath stops and my heart starts to pound but that doesn't stop the smirk from forming. The sound of Crane's whistle draws my attention back to him, giving my frantic heart a second to recoup. I try focusing on his words but my gaze is dragged back to the leggy blonde standing off to our right.

  Noticing her nearly white blonde hair is a punch to the chest. It’s her, the Beauty with the violin. Her eyes are the brightest electric blue color, they almost seem to glow. She bites her plump lower lip nervously and I have to fight back a groan of need from escaping. Sweeping my eyes down her sexy cream leather skirt to those delectably long legs and finally to the shoes. Nude strappy something or others, that are so fucking hot my cock does a delighted leap in my jeans.

  Her raspy voice brings my focus back from imagining those long legs wrapped around my head. I realize she is talking about my song and seems to know her shit, but why would Crane ask her? At the words daughter and tour manager, it hits me that this crazy fucker wants this beautiful sex kitten of a daughter to go on tour with us? Was the guy insane or just stupid?

  "Uh, are you saying you want, her, to be our tour manager?" My heart is hammering with excitement, while my brain is kicking it silent. Freezing blue sparks light up in her eyes as she glowers at me.

  "What, you don't think I have the skills or intellect to be your manager!?" She fumes. Looking like she'd like to stomp me under those thought provoking heels of hers.

  "Look, it has nothing to do with your skills or intellect and everything to do with the fact you're a chick." I sigh, running my hands though my hair. If possible she seems to become even more pissed and damn if she doesn't look even more fuckable, as a red heat rushes to her cheeks.

  "What. Did. You. Just. Say?" Her teeth are clinched and her hands are squeezed tightly into fists.

  "Okay kids dial it back." Crane stands and loosely grabs Nell's arm dragging her over to the chair next to me. Crane gently shoves her into it, then leans back on to the edge of his desk. Nell's arms are crossed over her amazing chest, as she pouts, looking anywhere but at me.

  "Look my Nell is amazing. She knows music and she knows how to handle a petulant artist or band. She's organized and dependable. Mostly she is smart as hell and knows how to handle herself." As he sings her praise, Nell relaxes and smiles towards her father.

  "It's not that I doubt her skills, I just know that we are a bunch of crude, smelly, and at times disrespectful assholes." Turning toward Nell, who still won't look at me, I continue, "You are beautiful, well mannered, young, and from the looks of you, fairly innocent. I don't want a bunch of disgusting rockers to tarnish that."

  Flashing her angry eyes toward me, I realize that while her demeanor may have relaxed, she is still plenty pissed. "You met me 5 seconds ago and you have no right to say, how or when I get "tarnish". I will be the best goddamn tour manager you have ever seen, despite your disgusting habits.” She bites out then pauses with a look of confusion. “Wait, isn't your bass player female?"

  "Ashton grew up with us, she's used to it. Besides she's more dude then chick half the time." I shrug.

  "Look, the worst thing that could happen is I don't work out, why not give me a chance to see what I can do. If the band decides I'm not the right fit after the first few shows, then I will leave and my father will find you a seasoned, big dicked male, tour manager." Thrusting her hand my way I can do little but shake it. As my hand is about to meet hers a visible spark arks causing Nell to gasp, me to frown, and quickly shake off her hand.

  "Okay, well, I guess we can try you out. The tour starts this weekend in Portland, Oregon. The band is going to head up on Thursday to give us couple days to see family before we head out for the next 3 months. Pack light, Princess, it's going to be pretty cramped."

  Fire shoots into her eyes again but I stand and shake Crane’s hand. “We can talk about the song after the tour.” I grab my guitar case, and make my exit.

  Chapter 3

  Nell

  What an arrogant, infuriating, fucking asshole! How was I supposed to spend 3 months in a cramped tour bus with Jaden and his huge ego? I stomp into my shared office and slam the door.

  "Calling me princess, what the freaking, fucking fuck?" I gribble under my breath.

  “Everything okay, Nell?” Comes the nails-on-a-chalkboard-voice I’ve grown to hate over the last few month. Cammie, was the rare unicorn like groupie-slut, she was a smart-groupie-slut. She figured, why blow roadies and securi
ty to get backstage, when you can work for a record label, have full access to artists, and no competition. Even as a non-groupie-slut, I was pretty impressed.

  “I just had the pleasure of meeting Jaden James.”

  “Oh, My, God, Jaden James is here? He is number one on my “Top 20 Must Fuck” list.” I just stare at her in stunned shock. There’s a list? This girl is serious about her groupie-ing. The OCD groupie-slut.

  “Would you fuck a dead rock star just so you could say you did?” I ask randomly, truly wondering about the psychology of this girl.

  She actually sits there thinking about it for a couple seconds before asking, “Do you think the penis becomes hard again at some point? If so, then definitely Cobain.”

  “Pre or post Courtney?” I ask, falling down the rabbit hole.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Sick is clearly the answer to her psyche.

  Shaking my head, I plop down in my desk chair, I need to figure out how to get through this. Jaden questioning my ability to deal with a bunch of gross men just makes me more determined. If I can do a good job on the tour with Toven's Circus, maybe my father will finally give me a shot at producing, instead of just grabbing coffees and doing crap jobs for James. Looks like I will have to suck it up and make friends with the asshole. Deciding on a game plan, I figure I should head home and start making arrangements. Grabbing my ivory Louis Vuitton, Pont-Neuf GM bag, and my car keys. I say bye to the necro and head for the elevators.