Page 53 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

I’ve avoided my post all day, not sure I was ready for any nastiness I might read in the comments. The relief I feel at this news is immense and helps get me in the right mindset for our conversation.

We spend half an hour talking about how she plans to help me shift my brand away from Tucker’s and manage the negative publicity I’m currently facing. I’m impressed with everything she suggests, and I can tell that Leigh is too. By the time we leave for the meeting with my label, I’m feeling a lot more confident about everything and hopeful about my future in this industry.

“Never have I ever been so appalled by the misogyny of this fucking industry,” Leigh rages as we push our way through the door of my record label’s building and walk out into the sunshine that feels a lot warmer than I do after the meeting I’ve just had.

I think I’m in shock. Not that I know what that feels like. But if it involves clammy skin, nausea, a racing heart, and a faint feeling, then I’m definitely in shock.

“Surely, they can’t do that,” Leigh continues her tirade.

I’m going to vomit.

That’s all I’m sure of right now.

“Right?” Leigh stops and inspects me. “Shit, are you okay?”

I claw at the top buttons of my blouse that aren’t letting me breathe.

“Fuck,” Leigh curses as the sun blinds me and I stumble. Her hand cradles my elbow, and she guides me to the park bench on the grass near us. Once I’m sitting, she shoves a bottle of water in my face. “Drink this. You are not puking on my watch.”

I push the bottle away and lurch in the opposite direction of her just in time, hurling over the grass instead of her lap.

She thrusts a tissue at me, and I wipe my mouth while my stomach settles. When I’m sure I’m not going to vomit again, I turn back to her. “I think they can do whatever they want, and they just did.”

“But you have a contract that I imagine is ironclad and states they can’t terminate you based on that bullshit they just spewed at you.”

“It clearly isn’t that ironclad. They wouldn’t terminate me if it was.” And god, why do I not know this information? Past Madeline has a lot to answer for.

The record label execs cited a variety of reasons for terminating my contract but mostly they relied on a morality clause, saying that my recent behavior is unacceptable and damaging to the label’s reputation. Read: Tucker, their number one artist, demanded they fire me.

I am so fucking angry at him. I thought he might do something like this, and truth be told, it’s probably why I took six months to leave him and ruin all the business plans he and Darren built around our relationship. Fear of him trying to cancel me by throwing his power around in this way kept me engaged to him.

Having to listen to those men today tell me that women need to tread carefully in this business so as not to ruin all the hard work their team put into cultivating their brand has pissed me the hell off. Why should women have to tread carefully? Why does Tucker get to go out there and do whatever he wants, but I don’t get to do the same?

Aaaargh!!!

Unable to hold in the fury grinding in my chest for a second longer, I throw my head back, open my mouth, and scream.

It’s long.

It’s loud.

And damn it feels good to get it all out.

Fuck those people who want to keep me down.

Fuck. Them.

I’m a Miller and we don’t stay down. We stand the hell up and handle our business, and we don’t ever give up.

Ethan was right when he told me I’m not powerless. Tucker can screw with my career as much as he wants but I have so many resources I can tap into.

The only person who can stop me is me.

“Wow.” Leigh stares at me when I finish screaming, eyes wide, mouth open. “That was...unexpected.”

I shake out my arms, every inch of my skin buzzing. “You should probably expect more of that.”

She blinks. “Right. Good to know, but I’d like to suggest we maybe keep that kind of outburst to private spaces only.” She motions at all the people staring at us. “God knows who just filmed that.”

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