Moonlight & Music

by Grace Augustine

Synopsis

Blake McIntyre had held his position at Bankston Promotions for fifteen years. He is the top music artist promoter in the business. Potential clients by-passed the CEO's daughter and sought out his expertise. He assumed that was why he was fired. With an interview scheduled in less than six hours, he needed sleep and to be on his A-game, but the wailing coming from the apartment across the hall prevented it.
Renee Manelli, a frustrated musician, had worked twenty years as a paralegal. Her goal was to stockpile money, write songs, retire early, and hit the road performing. Her most creative time happened to be at 2 am. Her crystal-clear voice and messages in her songs make her the fastest rising independent artist in the country.
A working relationship between Blake and Renee turned quickly into the personal journey of a lifetime under the stars and Moonlight & Music.

Release date: September 7, 2015

Publisher: Createspace

Print pages: 137

Sample

Moonlight & Music Chapter 1 “OH FOR GOD’S SAKE!” Blake McIntyre looked at the microwave clock. 2 a.m. He threw open his apartment door and made his way across the hall to hopefully halt the drone that was now filling his ears. He wasn’t amused. Countless times Blake banged on the door of the apartment across the hall. Thankfully there were only two apartments on this floor, his and that of his noisy neighbor, otherwise the entire floor would be awake. The music continued. There was no way anyone could hear anything. The noise grew louder and louder as did Blake’s frustration. Finally, he tried the door handle and cautiously proceeded into the room when the latch released. Blake didn’t want to scare his neighbor, he just wanted the music turned down to a decibel that he didn’t have to hear. Hell, he didn’t even know his neighbor. Fully expecting a party in full swing, Blake was surprised when all he saw was a woman with her eyes closed. She sported headphones, not the two dollar kind, but professional ones. She sat on a barstool directly in front of him. She gracefully moved to the music she was playing. The music stopped long enough for her to write on the paper perched on a makeshift easel before she began again. Blake quickly glanced around and noted how elegantly the apartment was furnished. He noted a drum set in the corner to the left of him and a cello sitting on its stand. A baby grand took up the majority of the living room. Then, this woman, oblivious to everything but her music, strumming on a guitar. Okay, do I just back out quietly and go back to my room? I need to invest in industrial strength ear plugs if this keeps up! “Hello?” Blake yelled repeatedly to no avail. He finally walked over to where the woman sat and touched the elbow of her strumming arm. She jumped off her stool, ripped the headphones from her ears, and was ready to strike Blake with her guitar. “What the hell? Who are you? What do you want?” “Whoa, there, Mozart.” Blake caught her arm in mid swing. It would have been a shame for her to damage the instrument she was wielding. “What the hell do you mean, Mozart? He was a pianist. I’m calling the cops.” Blake’s expression softened and he felt himself smirking at her comment. He released her arm, took a step backwards, and put his hands up in an I-surrender-don’t-shoot movement. “If you would stop for just a moment. All I want is for you to stop this incessant noise so I can sleep. Night after night, or should I say early morning, I’ve put up with all I can put up with. I was fired from my job, I need to be at an interview at 8 am. I need more than four hours of sleep. Please, just tone it down.” Blake turned to leave and heard a quiet sob. He knew he’d raised his voice louder than normal and was sure the tone was a little less than cheerful, but he didn’t think it warranted tears. Oh, God, now what? Don’t do it. Don’t turn around. He knew he was going to regret this. Blake turned around and saw tears streaming down this woman’s cheeks. He rolled his eyes. Damn. See, I told you not to turn around. “I’m sorry if what I said was offensive. Seriously, I do need to get some sleep.” “No, I’m sorry if I was too loud. Music is the only way I can deal with my life at this point. It was a rough day. I’ll do my best to keep it down.” Blake extended his hand to her, hoping it would at least calm her down and prove he wasn’t an ax murderer. There was no way in hell he would ask what was going on in her life to make her live in her music as she was doing. He didn’t want to open that can of worms, especially at this time of the morning. “I’m Blake McIntyre. I live across the hall.” “Renee Manelli.” Renee took his outstretched hand and looked up at him. Across the hall neighbor, huh? “You’re Renee Manelli?” Blake shook his head. Wow, Renee Manelli was his neighbor. He’d lived in this apartment building for five years and didn’t know anyone. He kept pretty much to himself. His work, until yesterday, had him traveling three weeks out of the month. He didn’t know anyone in the building and now to meet Renee Manelli. Incredible. Renee Manelli was one of the fastest rising stars in the independent music scene in the city and she was living in the same building on the same floor. “Yes, I’m Renee Manelli.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Manelli.” Blake continued back pedaling toward the door that was wide open. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to catch at least another couple hours sleep before I have to be out of here searching for work.” “Are you sure I can’t fix some coffee or food? I mean, I did wake you up. It’s the least I can do.” “No, that’s fine. I just want to sleep. I’ll take a rain check, though.” Rain check? What the hell? McIntyre get outta here now before it’s too late. “It’s very nice meeting you as well, Mr. McIntyre. I hope our paths cross again.” Oh, honey, count on it! Blake shut the door behind him and made his way back to his apartment, to his bed. Just as he settled under the covers, Blake again heard music, only this time it was quiet, soft, almost lulling. Blake’s sleep was ridden with images of the woman sitting on the stool. Renee Manelli. Long, dark, shoulder length hair framed her face. Her body swayed as she concentrated on the guitar riffs. Her booted foot tapped perfect time as she played. The over-sized headphones made her look like an alien. He tossed and turned for the next couple hours, thinking all the while about his neighbor. Finally at 6 am Blake gave up the thoughts of ever going back to sleep and headed for the shower. Maybe that would wake him up, clear the fog that seemed to have overtaken his mind. The hot water ran over Blake’s tanned, toned body. He stood with his back arched so the majority hit his hips. He stretched down, touching his toes. An audible groan escaped him. If only I could stay here. If only Renee Manelli... The shampoo bottle hit the floor of the shower. Blake groaned as he bent to pick up the bottle before the liquid found its way down the drain. The groan more for his rampant thoughts than the pain from bending down. Renee Manelli could be the new object of his obsession without a problem. He thought of how silky her skin would feel lathered up… As quickly as those thoughts came to him, Blake pushed them to the farthest corners and buried them. He didn’t need to be focusing on a woman at the moment. What Blake needed was a job. Hopefully this one would be the perfect one. He didn’t mind not working, but when it came down to it, working and having money won every time. He really hated just sitting around doing nothing. Blake slid open the glass shower door and grabbed the towel just to his right. He wiped down the inside of the door before stepping out onto the plush chocolate brown bathmat. The room was filled with steam and a masculine scent that was purely Blake. The mirror above the sink was invisible with condensation. Blake dried off and wrapped the wet towel around his hips. He took a swipe at the mirror with the blow dryer every now and again so he could see what he was doing. Blake’s sister, Sharon, gave him such grief for using a blow dryer on his hair. In her eyes it wasn’t the manly thing to do. He chuckled as he remembered her words. “If you dry it with your towel, all you’ll need is some paste, and voila!” Yeah, paste, and voila! Blake hated any hair product and the lesser of the evils for him was just a spritz of natural hair spray that he’d found at the vitamin market down the street. Blake ran his fingers through his hair, used the hairspray, brushed his teeth, and headed toward his closet. He opted not to wear a suit and tie today, but a pair of khakis and a lime green tee that buttoned at the neck. Ben, a personal friend, who also worked for a head hunter agency, told Blake the address of the business and time to show up, nothing more. Blake had no clue who he was meeting or what the job entailed. It was a job opportunity, though, and the sooner he could work, the better. Even though it’d been less than twenty four hours since he was let go, he didn’t want to wait. Blake had held the job he’d just been released from for fifteen years. Bankston Promotions had hired him straight out of college. He was one of the best PR people in the country. He’d brought some big name actors and musicians to the company. Potential clients were requesting him over the boss’ daughter. He assumed that was why he was let go or because he was the highest paid employee Bankston had on the payroll. There was no time to keep going over what happened and why he was no longer working for Bankston. Grabbing the keys from the dish on his dresser, Blake stopped and looked in the mirror one more time, making sure that he looked just right. He shrugged his shoulders and headed out the door to the parking garage. Now’s as good a time as any, ol’ boy. Be positive. You’ll find a job. Maybe this one’s it, if not, Ben can find me another. Blake checked the rearview mirror before backing out of the parking space and leaving the garage. He turned right and continued to the stop sign before turning right again and merging his burgundy SUV into the flow of traffic. Driving in rush hour traffic was not one of Blake’s favorite things. The amount of vehicles on the road any more was astounding, even with the availability of light rail and buses. Blake drove for twenty minutes before he found the side street in his directions. The business was on his left. He pulled into the parking lot, locked his vehicle and made his way to the building entrance. The building wasn’t architecturally appealing at all. It was just a normal office building with maybe ten floors. Blake observed most of the upper floors were all windows. Once inside, Blake found the business directory. He was curious to see who he was meeting. He checked the paper with the instructions. Fifth floor, Suite 5B. His eyes followed the line of businesses until they came to rest on The Wellman Agency. Blake had heard of The Wellman Agency. He’d not had any dealings with them personally, only knew that it was owned and run by an older couple. He’d heard good things about them. Maybe this is the right one for me. Blake made his way down the hall and opened the door to Suite 5B. An older woman with snow white hair sat at the reception desk. She looked up and smiled. The smile lit up her entire face and put a sparkle in her eyes. The crows’ feet around her eyes revealed that she smiled a lot. “Good morning! How may I help you?” Her jovial attitude and smile captured Blake immediately, making him want to engage in conversation with her. He smiled back. “Good morning to you, too. I have an appointment and I’m sorry but I have no clue who I’m supposed to be meeting. The employment agency only gave me the address and told me to show up at this time.” The older woman laughed and extended her hand. “You must be Blake McIntyre. I’m Alice, and the person you’re meeting with is just behind those doors.” Alice nodded toward the office down the hall. “The Dragon Lady has had her coffee, so I’m sure you won’t be breakfast.” Alice continued laughing and shaking her head. Blake wondered just what Ben had gotten him into. He sat down on one of the sofas with the never-wear-out-avocado-green fabric. Looking around was like looking into an episode of the Dick Van Dyke show. He was sure the décor was circa 1960. Blake noticed Alice had picked up the phone and was telling the person, he assumed it was the “Dragon Lady,” that her appointment had arrived. Within minutes, a lithe woman, in a black pencil skirt appeared. The only color on her was the gold brooch pinned to the lapel of her black jacket. It sparkled when she moved just right. Cruella DeVille came to mind, and Blake stifled a smile by pursing his lips. “Mr. McIntyre? I’m Frankie Wellman. Welcome. Please come into my office.” Frankie Wellman stopped at Alice’s desk long enough to request she bring coffee, tout suite, then led Blake into her office. The décor of Frankie’s office was much the same as the waiting area. It wasn’t avocado, but ecru…same shapes, same feel, same stuck in the 1960’s appeal. Blake sat down opposite Frankie. Alice brought a tray with coffee, creamer, sugar, and a few cookies on a silver plate. She sat it on the corner of Frankie’s desk and made her way out of the room. “It’s nice to finally visit with you in person, Mr. McIntyre. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you and the work you’ve done.” “Thank you. I’m glad it was the good things you heard.” Blake flashed a smile in Frankie’s direction. His ability to put people at ease on first time meetings was phenomenal. He already knew his normal humor and wit would get a work out with Ms. Wellman. “Let’s just say I weed through bullshit very well. Please, call me Frankie.” “I can see you are a shoot from the hip kinda woman, Frankie. Would you please tell me what job I’m interviewing for?” “In due time.” Frankie set a mug of coffee and cookie down in front of Blake. “After looking at your references and a phone call with Andrew, I knew you just may be who I was looking for.” Blake sipped his coffee as his potential employer ruffled through a folder in front of her. “You’ve worked with some pretty impressive clients, Blake. How long have you been in this business?” “Fifteen years, ma’am.” “Frankie, remember?” She lifted another sheet of paper and nodded her approval. “I’m ready to hire you on the spot based on what I see and what your former boss told me about you.” Blake would love to know what Andrew Bankston said to her about him. He was sure the reason he was let go was because of the controversy with Bankston’s daughter wanting all of his clients. “I don’t know what to say, Frankie. I don’t even know what the job is or if I feel I’m qualified.” “You’re fully qualified and I’m prepared to pay you well. How does doubling your salary sound?” Blake sat back in the chair. He felt as if someone had pushed him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Double my salary? Holy hell! That’s six figures. What the hell will I be doing, guarding a queen? “Frankie, I don’t know what to say. You’re willing to hire me without me even knowing what the job is?” The older woman smiled slyly and sipped her coffee with confidence. “I figured if I offered you a salary you wouldn’t refuse, you won’t care what the job is.” Frankie’s laughter filled the room and soon Blake was chuckling right along with her. “Well, you make a good case, Frankie. When do I begin doing what I have no clue I’m doing?” “Today, if we can work it out. I’m not sure you’re aware that I represent many of the new, up and coming independent artists in the area. I have one client in particular that I just can’t seem to get out there. She’s a very talented singer/songwriter, a very beautiful woman inside and out, yet there’s something preventing venues from wanting her to perform. Her music is good. It’s climbing the charts…slowly. I want to get her out there. She deserves success.” Blake stood up and walked to the windows on the opposite side of the room. He put his hands in his pockets and took note of what was outside as he pondered what he’d just heard. Frankie’s suite overlooked a beautifully landscaped area with a walking path around a pond. There were picnic tables and benches placed around the pond. There were a lot of people walking. Blake sighed and turned to face Frankie. “Why me? What makes you think I can be any better than the ones that have come before me?” “I’ve seen what you’ve done for Ron Tillman’s career. He’s won Emmy’s for his acting. I’ve seen what you’ve done for Honor Concord. She just picked up her third Grammy. I know you can do this. You’re the best, that’s why I requested you.” “Wait a minute, you requested me? Care to tell me about that?” Frankie smiled and leaned on the front of her desk. She crossed her arms. “Well, Blake McIntyre, I get what I want. I want you to help me with this project. Money isn’t an issue. I called Andrew and told him what I needed and asked if he knew of anyone. He said that you were the best in the industry and that because of budget cuts he had to let you go. Truthfully, he said you were too expensive to keep around.” Blake rolled his eyes and nodded. Traitor! “So, you see, you help me, I help you. What do you think, Blake? Will you help me get the word out? It’s time for the world to experience all Renee Manelli has to offer.”