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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Mysteries Across Time
- Sprache: Englisch
In this second novel in the Mysteries Across Time series, someone is killing country and pop music's brightest stars.
Six months in the future, a cold-blooded killer is succeeding. Only one man can change the tune of fate. Portland attorney Michael Mays possesses an extraordinary secret - a book that allows him to travel through time.
His clients, international music superstars Leanna Jones and Levi James, appear to be targets of a sniper who is terrorizing Nashville's elite. Michael must use his mysterious ability to protect them.
But the shadowy World Artists United organization has its own plans for Michael's time-travel book, and they're willing to spill blood to get it. When Michael disappears during a crucial moment at the Hollywood Bowl, leaving only a crimson trace on the concrete steps, the future itself hangs in the balance. If he can't navigate his way back through time's treacherous corridors, he may not save himself, let alone his clients.
His partnership with the captivating Kassidy Frank, whose brilliant legal mind matches her stunning beauty, complicates his mission. Can their budding romance survive uncovering a conspiracy that reaches deep into the music industry's darkest corners?
Future Tense is Hollis Oliver's second spellbinding supernatural thriller that pushes the boundaries of time and suspense. If you're drawn to intricate mysteries, supernatural twists, and romance, Oliver's masterful storytelling will enthral you.
Pick up your copy right now and discover where - and when - this thrilling journey leads!
Pulitzer Prize nominee, author, and news journalist Jere Van Dyk, gave Oliver's first novel in this series,"Debts Unsettled," 5 stars.
Reader Reviews for that novel:
"Hollis's ability to engage me in the life of Michael Mays took me for quite the ride. This book was a fun and exciting read that I looked forward to each evening. I am sad it's over, but look forward to the next adventure in what I hope are multiple."
"Great read. Can’t wait to read more from this author."
"I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It was very intriguing, a fascinating read. For me it was sometimes intense, making me want to read it faster but needing to stop occasionally to catch my breath. Looking forward to the next book.”
"Loved the book by this new author! If you like time travel adventures, you will really enjoy this. I really liked the character development and the way it moved the plot along. It's nice to read a book that doesn't have some sort of social agenda and doesn't rely on profanity and sexual innuendo to make it interesting. Loved it!”
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Seitenzahl: 561
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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Future Tense
A Mystery Across Time
Hollis Oliver
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and organizations portrayed, are either products of the authors imagination and purely coincidental. Or they are complimentary—out of admiration—and used in a fictitious manner.
Future Tense – A Mystery Across Time
Book two in the “Mysteries Across Time” series
www.hollisoliver.com
Copyright © 2021 by Hollis Oliver
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any type of retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded, or otherwise—without prior permission of the author and the publisher.
DUSTY RAIN PUBLISHING
Washington, USA
ISBN 979-8-9894368-4-2
First Edition: May 2021
Second Edition: January 2023
Printed in the United States
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Contents
I dedicate this novel to my wonderful friend Gary Allen
Iron sharpening iron—Love you Brother and miss you.
Where This Story Began
Portland, Oregon based intellectual property attorney Michael Mays—is back.
In “Debts Unsettled,” the first book in Hollis Oliver’s “Mysteries Across Time” series, Michael Mays had lost his job as an attorney with a large Los Angeles law firm. His former wife—through divorce—took him for everything he had. Thirty years prior, when he was only 12-years-old, a serial killer took his mother from him, and his father subsequently deserted him.
Now he’s a partner in a Portland, Oregon based law firm. On his way to his favorite Saturday morning routine, he is sidetracked by a yard sale, where he buys an old book on photography titled, “Making Photographs Come To Life.” He inadvertently discovers the book can transport him to the past.
A serial killer learns Michael has the book and determines he must have it and use it to his advantage. He has a problem—he’s in prison. But he’s wealthy, and on the outside, he has hit men, and a brutally charming hit woman.
Michael has one life-long goal: solve his mother’s 30-year-old unsolved murder and bring her killer to justice.
The serial killer has one goal—two if you count getting the book—kill Michael Mays.
—Jere Van Dyk, Pulitzer Prize nominee, New York Times Reporter, CBS Correspondent, and author:
“When you pick Debts Unsettled you cannot put it down. This is a crime novel unlike any I have read, moving from the present to the past, and back again. It evokes the Northwest, from its tall Douglas Firs to its friendly, open people. There is a sympathetic hero, a man who has suffered, who knows the law, technology, the music business, and how to fight. There is love, unremitting tension, and there is danger. It will keep up you at night.”
Tap here to go to the “Debts Unsettled” Amazon Page
Michael Mays sat 35,000 feet above California. His eyes were out the window, but his mind was pondering why a sniper would shoot on-stage performers. Michael suspected the number of thoughts running through his head rivaled the 737‘s altitude.
“Something to drink?” the flight attendant asked, interrupting his worrying.
“Um…yes, club soda with lime, please.”
The attendant’s beauty and poise struck Michael. Flawless mocha-hued skin and teeth as brilliant as her eyes were beautiful. An athletic physique; tall, but six inches shorter than Michael.
Her gentle voice helped soothe his concerns.
The flight was light, so she took advantage of having time to chat while fixing Michael’s drink.
“San Diego, work related or pleasure?”
Michael smiled. “Work related, but it’s something I love, so I don’t consider it work.”
She stopped pouring the club soda mid-stream and looked at Michael. “What do you do that’s so enjoyable?”
“I’m a practicing attorney, but I also manage an artist who’s performing tonight in San Diego.”
She skewered a lime wedge with a tasseled toothpick and placed it in his club soda. Handing it to him, she asked, “Who do you manage?”
“Leanna Jones.”
“Seriously!” Her calming voice became ecstatic. “She came out of nowhere and now—wow—I love her music.”
Michael said, “Are you staying the night in San Diego?”
“San Diego’s my home.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
He pulled two tickets from his sport jacket’s breast pocket. “The show sold out, but I saved a few.”
She stared at them as she reached out. “For me?” She accepted the tickets and lifted them closer. Her eyes flew wide open. “These are right up front.”
“Yes, they are. If you’re interested, stick around afterwards. I’ll take you and whoever you bring backstage and introduce you—save your ticket, she’ll autograph it. By the way, my name is Michael Mays. What’s yours?”
“Angie Ryan,” she said, but continued staring at the tickets while shaking Michael’s hand.
She looked up. “My best friend Rikki is working this flight. I’ll bring her. We were just discussing this concert. Both of us are huge fans—”
“Hey stewardess… he’s not the only one on the plane who’s thirsty.” The rude voice interrupted from a few of rows behind Michael. Angie looked at the man. He was fully extending his left arm. In his hand was an empty cup and a credit card.
Michael stood, while leaning out to avoid the overhead bins. When he stretched to his full height, he turned toward the man. His lips were smiling; his green eyes were not. “The Flight Attendant is helping me. When she’s done, you’re next.”
The man lowered his arm. A sudden interest in whatever part of California they were flying over drew his eyes out the window.
Angie placed her hand on Michael’s arm. “It’s okay… part of the job.” She turned and walked toward the man.
The man glanced at Michael.
Michael had not broken his smile or his stare.
The man discovered another point of interest out the window.
As Michael turned to sit, he heard Angie say in her soothing voice, “What may I get for you, sir?”
Angie came back to the cart, fixed, and delivered the man’s drink, then returned.
Michael looked at her, but she spoke first. “Michael, I appreciate what you did, but it’s my job. I get that behavior more than you can imagine.”
“I apologize, Angie. You’re a better person than me. My tolerance for that kind of behavior is… I have none.”
“Again, I appreciate it, but it’s my job to be attentive. Obviously, I didn’t meet his expectations.
“Okay, I think I was saying my best friend Rikki is on this flight with me. She will be over the moon when she sees the tickets.”
“Great, I’ll see you there tonight.”
Angie clutched the tickets to her chest with both hands. “Michael, I have to tell Rikki. Thanks again.”
Michael watched her abandon her cart and hurry to the front of the plane. With both hands, Angie held the tickets side by side in front of Rikki’s face. Rikki shook with excitement, put her hands to her face, and said, “What…how…where?” Rikki turned her head and saw passengers staring. She dragged Angie behind the bulkhead barrier.
Michael heard them trying their best to stifle their laughter, which caused him to lean his head back, close his eyes, and smile.
He tilted his seat back and reflected on the past two years.
Unbelievable.
He recalled first promising to meet with Leanna. From being a clerk at Vinyl Grooves used record shop to superstar in just over a year. When they first met, Michael was shopping for used records. Upon learning he was an intellectual property attorney, she asked to meet for coffee to discuss protecting songs she was writing.
But the gathering of evidence related to his mother’s murderer had delayed Michael’s meeting with her.
While sipping his club soda, Michael reflected on chasing evidence in both the past and present.
What a CRAZY ride that was.
Michael’s thoughts returned to Leanna.
An amazing talent…without an ego.
So much so, she attracted country superstar Levi James’s attention; he asked her to sing a duet with him, which his label would include on his next album. Michael and Leanna flew to Nashville to meet with Levi and discuss his proposal.
Levi’s record label titled his new album, “Pull Down the Sky,” which was the name of a song Leanna wrote and Levi and his producer loved. They recorded the song while she and Michael were in town.
Michael turned to look out the window; his thoughts jumped to Kassidy Frank. When he first saw her, his mind had jumped back to female movie stars from the 1940s and 1950s. Movies, he had watched with his mother.
Beautiful
She and Michael met during a meeting over a lawsuit his clients brought against a client of hers. Kassidy’s client agreed to pay an incredible sum of money to make the plagiarism suit go away. Before leaving his office, she gave him her business card with her cell number handwritten on the back. She invited him to contact her next time he was in Los Angeles. She promised to buy dinner.
Work took Michael to Los Angeles several months later. He called her and bought her dinner. Since that night, he had kept finding reasons to visit Los Angeles. They also began calling each other to discuss cases—101 law school cases—but it did not matter.
Michael planned to invite her to the San Diego concert until she mentioned she was out of town and would not be back until late that night.
Another time
Michael tried bringing his thoughts back to the present, but could not keep the book, “Making Pictures Come to Life,” from coming to mind.
A year ago, he used the book’s abilities to identify, and bring to justice, his mother’s murderer. During the past year, he had not used it as much as he had expected he would.
Photographs triggered the book’s abilities, transporting him to various points and places in the past. He was searching for the person who had—over 30 years ago—murdered his mother.
His mind moved from the past to the person the press had dubbed “The Starstruck Sniper.”
I need to research this.
He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and considered the security implications an active sniper may have on his client’s performances.
“Michael.”
He opened his eyes, turned his head, and saw Angie’s beautiful smile and her hands on the beverage cart.
She said, “I better get back to work and make a last call before—“
The airplane shuddered. It seemed to travel through the aircraft like an earthquake comes on.
Michael and Angie both looked around when they heard people reacting.
Some gasped in shock.
Others grabbed hold of the person next to them.
A woman called out, “What’s going on?”
She looked at Michael and opened her mouth to speak.
The plane shuddered again, only this time the shudder didn’t end; it became more intense.
Several overhead bin doors sprang open.
Michael looked at Angie and said, “Turbulence?”
Wide eyed, Angie shook her head in disbelief.
Angie turned and rushed to the front of the plane.
The captain’s voice boomed from the overhead speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. Return your seat-back trays to their upright position.
“Flight attendants, cabin check.”
All around, Michael heard the panicked voices of passengers.
Voices of frightened children—protesting about being forced to buckle up—stood out above that of panicked adults.
Angie grabbed the direct phone to the captain. “Captain, what’s going on?”
“We don’t know, but we’re working on finding out. Angie…” he hesitated, reconsidering what he was about to ask. “The most experienced pilot I know is on board. He waved at me earlier while I was boarding. He’s a retired airline captain. I want you to find him and ask him to come forward.”
“What’s his name? I’ll find him on the manifest. Do you want me to draw the curtain and meet him out here?”
“His name is Robert Soelberg and no, I’ve contacted ATC and declared an emergency. I want him up front with us.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it.”
Angie made a quick check of the manifest and found the pilot.
As she hurried back to his seat, the plane gave a more violent shake. Angie had to grab the nearest seatback and stop.
After the wave passed, she hurried to Robert’s seat. She leaned near to his ear and said, “The captain is requesting you to join him.”
Robert unbuckled and said, “Lead the way.”
A man across the aisle—the same man who was rude to Angie earlier—yelled, “Hey… what’s going on? We have the right to know!”
The rude man unbuckled and jumped up, all the while continuing to shout threats.
A man three aisles behind the rude man yelled, “Hey, sit down and shut your trap! You’re scaring the kids.”
The rude man spun around and said, “I’ll shut up when they tell me what’s going on. I know I’m not the only one feeling the vibration.”
The other man said, “Dude… you’re not helping the situation. Let them do their job. I doubt you’re an aerospace engineer.”
“No,” the rude man said while pointing out the window, “but I’m smart enough to know smoke coming from a jet engine isn’t right, and I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
He stepped into the aisle and yelled, “Stewardess, tell the captain we want to know what’s going on!”
The rude man walked, increasing his pace as he continued shouting threats.
Michael heard him drawing closer and unbuckled his seatbelt.
When he caught the man’s movement in the corner of his eye, he stuck his left leg into the aisle.
In his belligerence, the rude man was paying no attention to the aisle floor.
His volume and emotion were causing his voice to squeak. “Stewardess, did you hear me? I see smoke coming from an engine—“
The momentum of his headlong fall slammed him to the floor.
Michael stood, straddled him, and pulled him up. Turning him toward his seat, Michael said, “Let’s get you back to your seat. Looks like the fall may have broke your nose.
“I’ll let the flight attendant know.“ Michael said, as he grabbed the blanket laying on the seat next to the rude man. He pressed it against the rude man’s nose, while saying, “Here, hold this until she has time to help you.”
The captain closed the door and said, “Robert, it’s great to see you.” He introduced the first officer and didn’t waste time as he said, I asked you to ride here with us… just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” Robert said. “You already know you have an emergency.”
The captain motioned Robert to sit, then took his seat. “Yes, and we’ve begun the Engine Fire in Flight checklist,” he said as he reached toward the instrument panel and made an adjustment.
“Robert, I welcome a third person in here who has far more experience than Joseph and I combined.”
“The primary reason is that I want to ensure that—if something happened to Joseph or me—this plane will continue to fly as smoothly as possible. I have no expectation of anything happening, but you’re on board, so I’m tagging you to standby.”
Robert said, “I’m standing by.”
After the captain and first officer completed the Engine Fire in Flight checklist, the captain said, “Robert, I just received a status update from ATC. We’re being rerouted to SJC. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Good call,” Robert said, then stood. “Gentlemen, thanks for bringing me forward, but I’m not needed. You both are doing a stellar job.”
As he turned, the plane shuddered again; more violently than before. He stopped and said, “But call me if you need help; I’m only seconds away.”
Outside the window, the Santa Cruz mountains loomed in the distance. As they approached the airport, passengers found San Jose undiscernible from surrounding cities.
Angie and Rikki moved about the cabin, doing their best to reassure passengers and maintain some semblance of order.
The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom once more, his tone calm but filled with urgency. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching San Jose International Airport. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened. We’ll be making an emergency landing, and I need everyone to stay calm and follow the crew’s instructions.”
The tension in the cabin ratcheted up as the plane descended toward the runway. Passengers gripped their armrests while whispering prayers. Some held hands with their seatmates, finding comfort in the presence of strangers in that moment of crisis.
Angie kept a watchful eye on the rude man, who had finally quieted down after realizing the seriousness of the situation. She knew that Michael’s quick thinking had prevented a potential disaster in the aisle; she couldn’t help but admire his composure under pressure.
With a jolt, the wheels of the aircraft touched down. The rubber met the asphalt with a screech.
Overhead-bins flew open, spilling contents below.
The plane shuddered and skidded at an angle to the right, seemed to correct, but began drifting left.
The screech of the tires was now a rumble as the tire sidewalls flexed and dragged across the tarmac.
But the plane jolted and righted itself. Passengers felt the rumble of the plane’s brakes straining against the aircraft’s momentum and heard the thrust reversal of the functioning engine.
They could see the flashing red lights of the emergency apparatus responding.
It happened so fast that it seemed surreal. They were not only on the ground, but had taxied to a stop. Strangers were hugging. Michael heard sobbing all around the cabin.
The landing was a heart-stopping, but it was a landing.
As passengers grasped the reality of their stop and survival, a chorus of relieved cheers and applause erupted. The tears now streaming were from gratitude and relief.
Emergency vehicles surrounded the aircraft. Their flashing lights casting an eerie glow through the windows.
In the cockpit, the captain, and first officer shared a weary but triumphant glance.
The captain’s voice came over the intercom one last time. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have safely landed in San Jose. Thank you for your cooperation and support. The crew will begin assisting you with disembarkment.”
Amidst the sighs of relief and the sounds of passengers unbuckling their seatbelts, Michael glanced back at the rude man, who was now pale and subdued.
Michael offered a reassuring smile and a nod. The rude man gave a sharp nod in return.
Michael grabbed his backpack from the floor of the aisle and gave it a quick inspection. It was intact.
As he approached the plane’s exit, Angie hugged him. He could feel her body shaking as she held on tight. Hearing her breath catch, he hugged for a few more seconds before easing her away. Looking deep into her eyes, he said, “Angie… you did a wonderful job back there. While every passenger was panicking, you held it together.”
Rikki leaned her head on Angie’s shoulder. Michael reached out with one arm, placed it around her shoulders, and pulled her tight against him. “Rikki, what I said applies to you too. You both were wonderful.”
The couple in line behind Michael began clapping. Rather than a violent shuddering moving through the plane, a wave of applause sounded from front to back. Both Angie and Rikki were sobbing, but they turned from Michael while wiping their faces. They steepled their hands in front of them while repeating, “Thank you.”
After a couple minutes, Angie raised her hand with her palm facing out. The passenger’s applause faded. “Thank you all so much,” Angie called out. “You were wonderful… and you are being so kind, but we must get you on your way.” She hinted a smile and said, “There are connecting flights waiting for you. Thank you, again.”
She turned and said, “Michael, thanks again for the tickets. I guess you figured out this is Rikki, my best friend.”
“Rikki, so nice to meet you.” He looked at Angie, then back at Rikki. “Instead of Flight 1264, the airline should book this as, ‘Flight, Gorgeous Attendants.’”
They both laughed. Using both hands, Rikki took Michael’s hand and smiled. “Thank you so much, Michael.”
“You’re welcome. As I mentioned to Angie, don’t leave the show right away. Stay up front. I’ll find you and take you back to meet Leanna.”
Rikki continued smiling as she released Michael’s hand. “We would both love to meet her.”
Angie leaned forward and hugged Michael. “Thanks again.”
“I look forward to seeing both of you tonight.”
After he hurried away, Rikki fanned her face, wiped her tears, looked at Angie, and mouthed, “Wow.”
Angie’s eyes followed Michael walking away; she wiped her face and whispered, “I know.”
As Michael slid into the cab’s backseat, the driver said, “Where to?”
Michael gave him the address to the hotel, then asked, “How long is the drive?”
“About 30 minutes.”
“That’ll be tight, but gives me time to make a phone call and de-stress.”
“Tough day?”
“Have you ever faced the reality that you may only have minutes to live?”
“No, not cuttin’ it that close. What brought that on?”
Michael threw his head back against the seat back. “Airplane with an engine on fire.”
“You were on that plane? I heard about it on my radio. Wow?
“Yeah, wow doesn’t come close. I don’t mean to be rude, but I could use a quick nap… if I’m able to relax.”
“Sure thing. I’ll change up the radio station; put on some relaxin’ music. Wow!”
“Thank you… I appreciate it.
In his room, Michael sat on the sofa, head back, and eyes closed. He was pushing the near death experience aside to focus on his responsibilities for the evening. His cell phone interrupted him.
“Hey, Jacob.”
“Michael, so glad you made it here safe. Are we still on for golf tomorrow?” Michael chuckled to himself while thinking, He has his priorities.
“Yep, 10 am tee time. Are you all here?”
“Mom and I came in this morning; mom checked us all in. Bill flies in this evening and will arrive just before the show starts. He had a surgery scheduled this morning to fix a kid’s shoulder. We’ll see you at the show.”
“Great, one more thing. Is Bill bringing his clubs?”
“He said he would. Should be fun.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll find you tonight.”
“Okay… hold on a second.” Michael could hear Linda’s voice in the background. “Mom says hi and is glad you made it. She says she loves you and she’ll see you tonight.”
“Thanks, Jacob, say hi back to her. I love you both.”
As Jacob ended the call, Michael thought, I adore that kid.
Michael is godfather to Jacob, who is the son of Linda Curt. Linda loves the solid mentoring Jacob receives from Michael, her best friend.
After showering and changing clothes, Michael made his way to Leanna’s penthouse suite. Leanna greeted him at the door in a damp hotel robe and jumped at him and gave him the most powerful hug she’d ever gave him. Her hair left Michael’s cheek wet as she pulled away and ran off. She turned and said, “Michael… without you, I’d be lost.” The tears in her eyes spoke volumes.
Halfway up, she stopped on the stair tread and turned. “Michael,” she said in a hurry, “I cannot fully express how happy I am to see you standing there.” Tears still running from her eyes, she said, “thank yo for a room with a piano. I spent the day working on two new songs. After dinner, you and I and Levi can come back here; I’ll play them for you guys. They’re rough, but you’ll get the idea.”
“I look forward to hearing them.”
Leanna wiped her eyes, turned, ran upstairs, and disappeared behind her bedroom door.
Michael roamed around the penthouse. His mind moved to the news stories he had read about the east coast shooter. The sliding glass door was open, so he took his thoughts to the patio’s railing. While taking in the view of the San Diego Harbor, he pondered the shootings.
All three on the East coast—that’s in Leanna’s favor. All were country music superstars, again, in Leanna’s favor. What if the shooter missed Levi and hit Leanna? But, to our advantage, we’ve kept his appearance top secret.
Michael realized how heartless his thoughts were.
He pulled out his phone and called Leanna’s producer, Derek, in Nashville.
“Hey, Michael, how y’all doin’? So glad you’re on the ground and safe.”
“Me too, Derek. I didn’t have time to expand on it in my text, but I’m here. I’ll fill you in later.”
“Whew… I know Leanna is happy too.! She called me in tears. Worried sick about you.”
Thanks Derek. She gave me the biggest hug I’ve ever had.“ Michael needed to change the subject.
He could picture Derek leaning back in his chair, with his feet on the edge of his recording studio console. If he were a bird, he would be a hummingbird. A hummingbird with exceptional talent and a smile that made you want to be his friend. Although over a foot taller than Derek, whenever they headed to grab some food, Michael had to hustle along the sidewalk to keep up with him.
“Hey, Derek, how many cups of coffee have you had this evening, twelve… thirteen?”
“You always exaggerate, Michael. It’s 9 pm here and I’ve only had ten since lunch. A little over a cup an hour won’t hurt you, will it?”
Michael laughed. “It works for you, but I’d be running up and down the studio’s hallway, bouncing off the walls.”
Derek chuckled. “I’m just sittin’ here, cup in hand, feet up, hat back, and listening to two songs my engineer and I laid down today. Other than the whole airplane thing, how about you?”
Michael chuckled. “I’m here in San Diego, safe; waiting for Leanna to finish getting ready, then we’re headed to tonight’s venue.”
“I hear it’s sold out.”
“We sent out teasers to our fan email list; the show sold out within twenty-four hours.”
Michael paused. “Derek, the news of this shooter has me worried. Have you heard anything new?”
“It’s the darnedest thing. I’ve talked to people who claim the shooter appeared out of nowhere, took his shots and disappeared. I mean vanished… into thin air! According to them, he wasn’t there more than a minute.”
While considering what Derek had said, Michael stepped through the sliding glass door while watching people party on the deck of a catamaran. In a fleeting thought, he wondered if the craft was being propelled by the wind or the air pumping from the bass player’s speakers.
“That’s news to me,” Michael said as he turned and leaned against the balcony railing.
“Who have you talked with, Derek?”
“Nashville folks, who were in the audience. I’ve only received feedback on two of the shootings, but it’s crazy talk. How could that be?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I can’t wrap my mind around it… so, changin’ gears, how’s Leanna coming with the songs for the next album? Let’s get together and run through them, the sooner the better. The label rep called the other day; they want twelve songs on the next album.”
“She’s played 15 new songs for me, but only eight deserve to be on the album. When we get back to the hotel tonight, she’s going to play a couple of new songs for me. She said they’re rough, but she’s excited about them. She’s eager to have me hear them, so we’re getting close.”
“Man, reality hits after the first album. The second one doesn’t come as fast unless you use outside songwriters.”
“As long as they keep coming, she wants to write her own songs. My job is to keep her focused and ward off discouragement.”
“Well, it’s worked so far. Keep it up, you’ve got a good feel for what works.”
“I’ve told you the story. I owe it to my mother—whoa, Derek,” Michael said, as he straightened up and leaned away from the railing. “Derek, Leanna just stepped out onto the balcony, looking lovely.” Leanna curtsied. Michael smiled. “Sorry to run, but we need to get to the amphitheater.”
“Tell her hi and y’all take care now.”
“Will do, thanks. Later, Derek.”
On the way to the venue, Michael considered Derek’s description of the shootings. He thought back to just over a year ago, when he had traveled back to May 17, 1986. As he sat on the grass, watching his mother and his kid-self leave the Woodstock Park ball field in Portland, he noticed a man photographing him.
In an instant, a man with a rifle appeared behind the photographer and fired two shots at Michael. He vanished in the same manner Derek had described. Michael attributed his cat-like-reflexes to his dodging the bullet. Leanna—borrowing Michael’s grandmother’s description—referred to him as having “cat-astrophic-like reflexes.”
He thought, These shootings…are not a coincidence.
While Leanna and Levi took part in the sound check, Michael met with the amphitheater’s security people.
Two weeks prior, he had requested they contact the security providers for the east coast venues where shootings had occurred. Drawing from that information, they identified three places as the most likely spots a shooter would use.
As he walked with the security staff, Michael said. “I want a person, with a radio, at each location. Keep your radio ready in hand. As crazy as it sounds, we’re going to assume it’s true and it could happen here. If someone appears, no hesitation, key the mic and say, ‘Hit the stage.’ You with me?”
They nodded in agreement.
The security chief, Javier, said, “We’ll practice a few times before the show starts.”
As Michael thanked Javier and shook his hand, he wondered how the seams in Javier’s polo shirt withstood the tension of his muscles flexing.
“Javier, let’s do a trial run during the opening act. I want you to walk to one of the three locations and wave your arms. I’ll be behind the curtain, stage left.”
Michael chuckled to himself as he envisioned Javier flexing and waving his arms, and his shirt ripping apart like the Incredible Hulk’s.
He looked at the security guards. “If Javier stops at your location and waves, pretend he’s the shooter who just materialized. Call it on the radio, but say, ‘Test—Hit the stage.’ Let’s see how quick we can respond.”
Javier said, “You got it, Michael.”
“Brilliant work, guys. It’s all yours now, Javier,” Michael looked at his watch. “I’m late for a meeting.”
“Thanks, Michael. We’ve got it covered.”
Michael was off, heading to meet with a representative of a new performance rights organization, World Artists United. They aggressively sought both new and established artists worldwide. Their credo was: “With us, you’re never alone. We have your back.”
They made promises of superior and open accounting methodologies, monthly distribution of royalties, and better communication with songwriters and artists.
“Michael, my name is Richard Bolds,” the representative said, as Michael walked into the meeting room.
It felt more like a walk-in closet to Michael.
“Nice to meet you too, Richard. What can I do for you?”
“I appreciate you taking a few minutes out of your evening to speak with me.”
“A few minutes is all I have, Richard.”
Richard poked to push up his glasses, and the jaw muscles in his skinny face twitched as he stared at Michael. He started to say something but thought better; he forced a smile and took a seat.
“Michael, before you know it, Leanna will be within six months of the end of her current performance rights organization's contract. For those of us on the inside, we simply refer to them as the artist’s PRO.”
Bold's condescending tone caused the corners of Michael’s mouth to rise in amusement.
“Now is the perfect time to consider moving to World Artists United.”
Michael listened with interest, but not with the interest Richard had hoped for.
“Richard, thanks for contacting me, but we’re not interested in changing. I value experience and longevity over a start-up company.”
“Michael, maybe you don’t have sufficient experience and knowledge to make this decision. I suggest you get together with one of our attorneys. They can help you understand the benefits of making our organization Leanna’s PRO.”
“Richard, what do you know about me, other than I’m Leanna’s manager?”
“Not much, but your flat-out refusal suggests you should take time to read the packet I leave with you, then discuss it with our attorneys. Give it more consideration, then call me.”
“I will review it when I have time, but it may be a while. Richard, I’m an attorney. My field of practice is Intellectual Property law. So, the lens I use to view your packet is different than those used by most of your clients. I don’t think I’ll find a reason to switch Leanna to your organization. Thanks for thinking of us, but I must get back to preparing for tonight’s show.”
As Michael turned to leave, Richard said, “I’m disappointed with your outright refusal to consider us, even leaving the packet, which you promised to review, on the table. You and Leanna will regret your decision.”
Michael stopped, looked at the door handle, shook his head, and turned. “Is that a threat, Richard?”
Richard stood, leaned forward with his hands on the table. “If it helps you make the right decision, you can consider it in that context.”
Michael stepped back to the table, placed his hands on the table and leaned toward Richard. The skin on Richard’s neck stretched as he looked up at Michael’s face.
“Richard, either you leave now—on a run—or I’ll pick you up, carry you to the front gate and throw you into the parking lot.” He picked up Richard’s business card and held it up while leaning across the table. “If any harm comes to Leanna—you will be the first person I visit.”
Richard hesitated. Michael did not blink.
Richard straightened, slammed his briefcase, and hurried through the door. Michael could hear his shoes slapping on the concrete floor and Richard spewing obscenities.
Michael reneged on his promise. He scooped up the packet and threw all but Richard’s business card into a trash can.
He hurried backstage to meet with Leanna and Levi to discuss the signal he’d worked out with the security team.
“Michael,” Levi asked, “aren’t you overreacting to this? I mean, it’s an east coast thing… right?
“Levi, evidence suggests that, but it’s my job to think big picture and potential scenarios. That allows you and Leanna to do what you love to do, and me to do what I love to do. And I’m good at it. I prefer to see people roll their eyes and think I’m a fool, over seeing them drying their eyes at your funeral.”
“And I,” Leanna said, “appreciate that.”
Levi added, “When you put it that way, I appreciate it too.”
“Okay, you’ve got the signal. I’ve discussed it with the sound guys. They gave me a wireless headset,” he held it up, “when I push the button, it patches me to your in-ear monitors. They’ll pump up my voice volume so you can hear me. Now’s a perfect time to try it… let’s do it.”
As Leanna and Levi walked out on the stage, Leanna had a thought. She turned, walked to the rear of stage, and gathered the band together. She told them what Michael had arranged. One of the band members raised her hand. “Michael, what about us?
Michael stepped out from stage left. “You’re covered; it will come through your in-ear monitors too.”
Leanna looked at Michael and said, “Thank you.” The band echoed her thanks.
Levi walked over and stood with Michael, waiting for his cue.
As the band played the intro to “Pull Down the Sky,” Leanna walked to center-stage.
“Tonight, we have a treat for you. My wonderful friend Levi James is here.” She turned toward him. “We’ll insert canned, thunderous applause here, Levi.” Levi just looked down and shook his head. Leanna laughed. “A while back, he asked me to record a duet with him for his next album. He graciously agreed to use a song I wrote, which he chose to debut here tonight. It will be the first song released on his next album.
“Levi is an exceptional talent and a wonderful guy. Ladies and gentlemen, Levi James.”
As Levi walked out from behind the curtain, the band circled back to the song’s intro. Levi walked to center-stage while Leanna turned to face him.
They lifted their microphones.
“How can I pull down the sky ooh…”
Michael yelled into his microphone, “Hit the stage.”
Everything stopped. The band ran from the stage. Leanna and Levi fell to the stage floor. Levi covered his head and squealed, “I don’t want to die!” He looked up, laughing; it was contagious. He got up and made a show of brushing off his clothing.
“Levi," Michael said, “if I had a gold star, I’d stick it on your forehead.” Levi bowed to everyone’s applause.
The sound techs announced the gates were opening.
The evening was magnificent. A warm breeze and a cloudless sky greeted the thousands of fans pouring into the outdoor arena. The sun was hinting at saying goodnight, and the moon was above the horizon preparing to upstage the sun.
The crowd was in a festive mood, dancing to the warm-up music.
An up-and-coming Southern California band opened the show. Journalists were saying their music echoed the 70s California sound of The Eagles, Jackson Browne, Poco, and Bob Welch.
The audience loved them.
As planned, Javier appeared at one of the three locations. He waved his arms; the security people were quick to respond.
Javier’s shirt survived.
Leanna’s band came on and warmed up by playing an instrumental version of her first hit. After they played it through once, she glided onto the stage singing the song. She went through six songs. After the applause quieted, she said, “Tonight, we have a treat for you. My wonderful friend, Levi James, is here.” The audience erupted in applause.
Leanna smiled and walked across the stage and back, waving to the audience. As the applause faded, she said, “A while back, Levi asked me to record a duet with him for his next album. To my surprise, he agreed to use a song I wrote.” The crowd applauded.
“He chose to debut it here…” she said while jabbing her finger toward the stage, “tonight,” again with a jab. She spread her arms as she held them out, “with y’all.” She looked over at Levi, who was still behind the curtain. “How did I do on the y’all, Levi?”
He stuck his head around the curtain, looked at the audience, stuck out his hand palm down, and waggled it back and forth. The crowd laughed and began applauding. Leanna had to yell into her mic, “It’s the first time we’ve sung this song in public, and it will be the first song released on his new album.”
Leanna’s voice became jubilant. “Levi is an exceptional talent and a wonderful guy, Ladies and gentlemen… Levi James.”
As Levi walked out, the band circled back to the song’s intro as the audience cheered. Levi walked to center-stage while Leanna turned to face him. Face-to face they began singing.
“How can I pull down the sky ooh…”
The crowd loved it. Lit-up cell phones screens floated everywhere as the audience swayed to the music. It was believable that Leanna and Levi were singing the song to one another.
Michael peered around the curtain and saw Jacob, Linda, and her fiancé, Bill. They saw him and waved. As he waved back, he saw Angie and Rikki front row center, smiling, swaying—cell phones in hand. Made him smile again.
“Hit the Stage!” burst into his headset.
He pushed his switch, yelled, “Hit the stage!” then ran to cover Leanna.
He dove toward Leanna.
A gunshot sounded.
Michael hit the floor and rolled in front of her.
The band members ran off stage.
The sound techs tried calming the chaos in the audience, requesting them not to panic. It did not work.
After one minute, they announced ‘all clear’ through the in-ear monitors. Then they announced over the sound system, “The situation is under control.”
It did not help.
Levi got up and hurried to help Leanna.
Michael laid there, breathing, but not moving.
Leanna looked at the blood pooling on the stage.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she called out, “Someone call 9-1-1,” then bent over and enfolded Michael’s shoulders and head in her arms.
Sunday morning
At 3:15 am, in the Chula Vista ICU, Michael began regaining consciousness.
Starting as a haze, it was like looking through the wrong end of a telescope.
The first thing he identified was a familiar odor.
Antiseptic?
Daniel Wygal jumped into Michael’s mind; he was holding a 2x4.
Michael called out, “Stop following me!”
He looked around, confused and groggy, then mumbled, “I fell down the stairs.”
The moon was full and floating above him. A voice came from the moon. “Michael… Michael, can you hear me?”
He blinked his eyes and mumbled “How does the moon know my name?”
“Michael, it’s Linda.”
Michael shook his head and stammered. “The man in the moon’s name is… Linda?”
The man in the moon is a woman?
His eyes blinked open and began focusing.
The moon’s a ceiling light?
“Linda?” he said.
“Yes, and I’m with Jacob, Bill, and Leanna.”
“Can I have a drink?”
Leanna stood, grabbed a pitcher of water, poured half a glass, and inserted a flex straw. She held it to his lips while he took a pull on the straw. “I was hoping for whiskey.”
Linda smiled. “You’ve told me you don’t like whiskey.”
“That was before I was enlightened.”
Linda stifled a laugh, as did everyone else. “No, that was before your head—slamming against the stage floor—knocked you senseless.”
“I can’t afford to lose sense.”
Linda leaned closer. “Now, we’ve found common ground.”
That caused him to laugh, which shook consciousness closer to the surface.
He looked at the people standing around him and said, “Can I sit up?”
Linda looked at Bill, who stood and picked up the bed’s control box. “Michael, it’s Bill. I’ll raise your bed; if you experience any pain, tell me.”
He stopped when Michael’s hand raised and gave the OK sign. As his bed raised, he made eye contact with everyone in the room. When Bill had sat, Michael said, “I love being the center of attention—but next time—I’ll just tell a joke.”
“But then,” Linda said, “the four of us would suffer. But you could ease our suffering bu buying us dinner at a nice restaurant.”
Leanna looked at Linda, then at Jacob. “I agree, Linda. How about you, Jacob?”
Jacob went red. “I agree with Leanna,” he said, as he watched the toe of his shoe rub a seam in the linoleum, unable to meet her eyes.
“I’m in the hospital? Tell me what happened? The last thing I remember was keying the mic and yelling, ‘Hit the stage.’”
Linda said, “As you ran to protect Leanna,” she looked at Leanna, then back to Michael, “the sniper’s shot hit you. The paramedics found you unconscious. They stabilized you and transported you here.”
“Did I get shot in the head? Because, wow, I’ve got a headache.”
“No,” Linda said, “the doctor believes hitting your head on the stage floor knocked you out. The bullet struck on the far-left side of your midsection, then passed through.”
“So, the bullet hit no internal organs?”
Linda looked at her fiancé. “Bill, why don’t you take this.”
Michael looked at him. “Bringing the doctor into the explanation; I don’t think I’ll like this.”
Bill gave a sympathetic smile. “Michael, the bullet struck your spleen. The paramedics were on site within three minutes and transported you here. Even though you lost a lot of blood, you will be okay.” Bill paused and took a deep breath. “Michael, they had to remove your spleen, and several bullet fragments from the surrounding area.”
“Bill, I know nothing about the spleen. What’s my future hold?”
“You’ll live a normal life, but you must be watchful of infection. Keep your vaccinations up to date and let health care providers know about your spleen removal. I recommend you wear a medical ID bracelet in case you’re unconscious due to, oh, let’s say,“ he made quotation marks with two fingers on each hand, “your neighbor’s dog knocks you down the stairs.”
“Wow, you have an excellent memory. That was over a year ago.” He looked at Linda, with his eyebrows scrunched and head tilted.
“Not me,” she looked at Bill. “we’ve never discussed it.”
“So, you didn’t believe the story, Doc?”
Bill lowered his head. “Really, Michael?”
“Yeah, I guess it was a lame excuse.
Linda said, “Like, ‘My dog ate my homework.’”
“I need to find dumber friends.”
They laughed, then Linda said, “Okay, back to your gunshot wound. They gave you two units of blood. You’ll be here the rest of the week, or until they’re comfortable with your H&H levels.”
Linda looked at the perplexed audience. “I’m sorry, sometimes I go into nurse jargon without considering the audience. H&H means Hemoglobin and Hematocrit levels.”
Still… nothing but silence. Dr. Bill sat back, enjoying himself.
“I’m sorry. They will draw your blood every four hours, and yes, they will wake you up if needed. The doctor will release you when your red blood cell count reaches acceptable levels.”
“Or, when I get better, they’ll release me.”
They laughed, and Linda said, “That’s all you wanted to hear… right?”
“No, what I want to hear is, they’re releasing me today.”
Leanna placed her hand over his. “We do too, Michael.”
Bill stood. “Alright folks, we need to say goodbye and let Michael rest.”
After they left, Michael lay wondering why someone wanted to kill Leanna. His blood loss and medications overcame his wondering and worrying. He was asleep within minutes.
Michael awoke to a blood draw and breakfast. As he was opening his contact list, a young woman came in to collect the food tray.
Michael stared at her. “Can I get the recipe for the green Jell-O, and the Cream of Wheat?”
She laughed. “I’m sorry, but that’s proprietary information.”
“I suspected it might be, but thanks for breakfast.”
“You are welcome. Anything else I can get for you?”
“More coffee would be great.”
“I’ll be right back with that.”
“Thanks.”
Michael opened Kassidy Frank’s contact info in his phone’s ‘Favorites’ section and called her.
“Michael, great to hear from you.”
“Hey, Kassidy, are you back in town?”
“Yes, are you in LA, Michael?”
“Close, I’m in… hold on,” He picked up a form laying on his nightstand. “Okay, I’m in the Sharp Chula Vista Medical Center’s ICU, because of a gunshot wound.”
“What? A robbery? An encounter with an attorney who was a poor loser?”
Michael chuckled. “That’s good. No, someone shot me last night while I was on stage at the Amphitheater.”
“That was you? Are you—? I’d ask if you’re okay, but that’s a stupid question.”
“Well, my blood chemistry must recover to the doctor’s satisfaction, before she’ll release me, which looks like Friday.”
“Can you have visitors?”
“Only if they’re a beautiful attorney who is a partner in a large Los Angeles law firm.”
“I’ll check my contacts and see if I can round one up for you.”
“No, I’d love to see you, no stand-in needed. I also want to talk business if you have time.”
“You caught me coming out of church. I can be there in three to three and a half hours, depending on traffic.”
“Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you.”
The young woman returned with his coffee. Michael asked her to let his nurse know he wants to take a shower and shave.
The things I do for smart, beautiful women.
* * *
Richard Bolds, World Artists United, stepped out of the Uber driver’s car, walked to the Sharp Chula Vista Medical Center’s reception desk, and got Michael Mays’s room number.
* * *
Michael finished with his shower and shave. The nurse helped him dress and get back into bed. She cranked up the back until Michael nodded and gave a thumbs-up. As she handed him coffee, she said, “There you go, Mr. Mays. I think you’re set for a while.”
“Please,” he looked at her nametag, “Marty, call me Michael. Thanks for your help.” She smiled and left. He took a sip of his coffee and turned his attention to the television.
Richard Bolds knocked on the room’s open door; Michael called out, “Come on in.”
Michael heard Richard’s heels clicking on the tile floor as he approached. He turned his head, saw Richard, then looked down at the TV remote. He muted the sound while shaking his head.
Looking up, he said, “Mr. Bolds, you are either irritatingly persistent or stupid—I’m sensing both.”
Richard frowned. “Well, I believe in World Artists United, and that Ms. Jones would be safer under our umbrella. I’m hoping the time you’ve spent in the hospital has allowed you to reflect on your decision. Maybe it’s brought you around to seeing the benefits of joining our company.”
“Richard, how did you find out I’m here? And why is it when we meet, I detect a threatening undercurrent?”
I have connections… take that any way you want. We are persistent, and we’ll continue until you make the right decision.”
“Or, until you’re rid of me?” Michael said as he set his coffee cup on the stand next to his bed.
Richard raised his left shoulder and both eyebrows. “Or, until Ms. Jones is a client.”
Michael sat up, causing pain to course through his midsection. “Richard, leave now. I will not change my decision.”
Richard pushed up his glasses while glaring. He moved to the bedside and looked at the spot Michael was clutching. Richard leaned over to within two feet of Michael’s face.
“That’s a tremendous mistake. You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.”
“I understand that—umph,“ Michael emptied his lungs as he let out a gasp from the jab Richard had made to his wounded side.
Richard jumped back to miss Michael’s backhand swipe at his face.
Michael grunted again from the pain his attempt caused and pressed his hand against his wound. Glaring at Richard, he said, “You’re a brave little man, aren’t you?”
“I’m the brains; I have much bigger, well-armed men backing me up. My advice is that you convince Leanna to join our organization.”
He removed his phone from his jacket’s inside pocket.
“Before I leave, I need to take a picture to document our meeting today.”
Richard took a step forward and held the phone in landscape position. He moved to press his finger against the screen.
Without hesitation, Michael made a quick downward slap.
Richard’s phone slammed against the tile floor with a thwack.
He picked it up, looked at the shattered screen, pushed a side button, and tapped the screen several times, to no effect.
Michael shook his head and lifted his hands, palms up. “I’m sorry. A fly’s been buzzing me since breakfast, making me crazy. I thought I saw it land on your phone. I had an involuntary muscle reaction. Motor reflexes took over.”
“That was on purpose!” Richard screeched. “I’ve only had this phone for a week. You’ve destroyed it.”
Michael’s nurse walked in. “What is going on in here?”
She was at least four inches taller than Richard—without her afro hairdo—and twice as wide.
“Did you see that? He destroyed my phone,” Richard yelled at her.
“Sir, you,” she pointed toward the door, “leave now,“ She stepped toward Richard, “I will not allow you to upset my patient.”
Richard stammered, looked at his phone, pivoted, and took off in a rage.
Michael raised his arms and shrugged. “I don’t know the man.”
The nurse looked at him while moving her hands to her hips. “Neither do I, but a gunshot wound and now this. I’d say you have someone’s trouble following you.”
Michael was finishing lunch when Kassidy arrived.
By walking in, she owns the room. Stunning! “Hey, Kassidy, great to see you; It’s been too long.”
“What’s it been… two weeks?”
“That’s too long.”
Kassidy smiled. “Agreed, and I hope you’re feeling as good as you look, Michael.”
He tilted his head and smiled. “How do I take that, Kassidy?”
“As intended,” she said as she smiled again. “Maybe a bit paler, but if I didn’t know what happened, I’d see you as normal.” She looked at his left hand. “But you are holding your left side?”
Michael was not up to discussing his experiences with Richard.
“I’m tired of being on my back. There’s more pain when sitting up, but it’s tolerable.”
“Michael, why were you on-stage?”
Michael discussed the east coast shooter and his concern for Leanna Jones. Then he discussed the security measures they took, including the warning signal worked out with the security team.
Kassidy could not stand it. She had to interrupt.
“Leanna Jones? You’ve never mentioned you manage one of the hottest talents in the world, or that you manage any artist.”
Michael hesitated and focused on Kassidy’s eyes; the eyes he had fought to keep from getting sucked into when they first met.
He looked at his hand pressing against his wound, then back into those eyes.
“Frankly, I had little confidence in my ability to pull it off. What did I know about managing an artist’s career, working with promoters, producers, and the press? But I was naïve enough, and bolstered by ‘I’m an attorney, I’ve got this,’ that I jumped to, yes.”
Kassidy laughed. “That is part of an attorney’s DNA, isn’t it?”
Michael smiled while nodding. “Leanna and I are both quick learners. We connected well, and together, we’ve learned and grew far beyond our expectations.
“Insecurities wouldn’t allow me to discuss it until my confidence grew.”
“Michael?”
“Hold on.” Michael raised his hand, palm facing Kassidy. “I’m not saying it was right to not tell you, but that’s what men do.”
“Well,” Kassidy said, “it’s a side of you I haven’t seen. You manage a superstar,” she said emphatically. “You can move past your insecurities.”
“I’ve moved past those insecurities, but there are plenty more. Even to where I’ve met with a psychologist every other week for the past year.”
“It’s been four years for me, Michael. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes, we need someone outside of our life—and our daily sphere—to give us perspective.”
“Right. My confidence is much stronger than it was a year ago.
“I had planned to invite you to last night’s concert and surprise you. But you leaving town cancelled my plans; I hoped I’d get another opportunity.”
Kassidy smiled. “There will be more opportunities, Michael.”
He smiled and gave a slight nod. “That’s my hope.
“That’s my hope too, Michael. Now, how did Leanna come into your life?”
“It was an unexpected consequence of meeting her in a used record shop where she worked as a salesperson and cashier. A friend of mine mentioned I might give her advice on protecting her songs.”
“Crazy-wonderful fortune. A used record shop?”
“Yes, it was incredible. And yeah,” he stuck out his hand, “my name is Michael Mays and I’m a vinyl-junkie.”
Kassidy shook his hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Michael, the vinyl-junkie.”
He smiled and bowed his head. “It’s something my mother instilled in me. I’d sit and listen to her records while she interpreted the lyrics. I admired her passion, more so after someone murdered her.”
“Oh no, how old were you?”
“Twelve years old; I believe my passion for vinyl helps keep my memories of her alive.”
“Did your father raise you alone, or remarry?”
“That’s a long story which I’ll tell you later, but no, my grandmother raised me.”
“Is she still alive?”
“Yes, 91 years old. I gave her away at her wedding a year ago.”
“I want to hear that story, too. Wow.”
“It’s a wonderful story with a great ending, but back to Leanna. I liked her from the moment we met. She’s a beautiful, genuine person. I gave her my business card and a few months later we met for coffee.”
Michael paused. “The crazy thing is, I got busy and forgot her. I’m thankful she didn’t forget me. By the time we got together, a record label’s A&R person had heard her music and offered her a record deal.
“So, our intent to meet over coffee to give her songwriting advice and direction turned into a request to evaluate the recording contract they had offered her. That flowed into her, asking me to represent her. My rush to say yes surprised me. I love music and practicing law—so combining the two—how could I not jump in?”
“What a fantastic discovery of your abilities, Michael. Most of us will look back and say, ‘I wish I would’ve.’”
“I must give Leanna credit for trusting me and giving me the opportunity to discover those abilities. We’ve become wonderful friends—romance never entered our relationship. But my best friend’s 13-year-old son, who I’ve become a surrogate father to, is completely smitten with Leanna. Poor kid becomes a mumbling wreck when she’s in the room.”
Both laughed at the picture the kid’s dilemma suggested.
“I credit Leanna for also changing my personal life.”
Kassidy tilted her head and scrunched her eyebrows. “No romance… but she changed your personal life?”
Michael smiled. “She convinced me to change my diet—not to go on a diet—but to change the way I eat and make food choices. And she shamed me into running with her. The shame kicked in when I tried to keep up with her, but now I’m running beside her and loving it. She trained in a Kenpo karate class for years and talked me into enrolling.”
