Page 41 of Giving Chase

"Ms. Kerr, thank you so much for making time for us," she says, her recorder already in hand. "We're thrilled to get your perspective on Incendiary Ink's induction into the Hall of Fame."

I paste on my best media smile. "Of course. It's an exciting time for the band and for Blackmore Records."

The interview starts off predictably enough. Questions about the band's journey, their impact on the industry, my role in their success. I answer on autopilot, years of media training kicking in.

"Incendiary Ink's sound evolved significantly over the years," Megan observes. "How much of that was organic growth versus label direction?"

I lean forward slightly, engaging. "It was always a collaborative process. Our job at Blackmore was to provide the resources and support for the band to explore their artistic vision. Their evolution was driven by their experiences, their growth as musicians. We just helped create the environment for that growth to happen."

Megan nods, scribbling a note. "And what about the challenges? Incendiary Ink has had their share of controversies over the years."

I choose my words carefully. "Every band faces challenges. What set Incendiary Ink apart was their resilience, their ability to channel those challenges into their music. It's part of what makes their induction so meaningful - it's a recognition not just of their success, but of their journey."

But then, Megan's smile turns slightly predatory. "Speaking of journeys, there's been a lot of speculation over the years about your personal journey with Chase Avery. Care to comment on that?"

I feel my smile freeze for a fraction of a second before I recover. "Chase and I have a long-standing professional relationship. I've been Incendiary Ink's manager since the beginning of their career."

Megan nods, but I can see she's not satisfied. "Of course. But there have been rumors of a more... intimate connection. Especially given some of Chase's more emotional acceptance speeches over the years. The Grammy incident in 2015 comes to mind."

The memory of that impulsive kiss flashes through my mind, and I have to work to keep my expression neutral. "I think it's natural for there to be a close bond between a band and their manager, especially over such a long and successful career. Emotions can run high in moments of triumph. But I can assure you, my relationship with Chase - and with all the members of Incendiary Ink - is strictly professional."

"And yet," Megan presses, leaning forward, "sources close to the band have hinted at tensions when you considered stepping down as their manager a few years ago. Some have suggested it was more than just a professional disagreement."

I feel a flicker of anger, quickly suppressed. Who's been talking? Will? Mark? "I'm not sure what sources you're referring to, but I can tell you that any discussions about my role with the band have always been centered around what's best for their career and for Blackmore Records. The music industry is constantly evolving, and so are the roles within it."

Megan seems to sense she's pushed as far as she can. She wraps up the interview with a few more questions about the upcoming ceremony, but I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. I know this won't be the last I hear of these rumors.

After she leaves, I sink back into my chair, suddenly drained. I thought I'd gotten better at deflecting these questions over the years, but something about this interview has left me unsettled.Is it because the ceremony is so close? Or because I've been avoiding the rehearsals, avoiding Chase?

I pull out my phone, scrolling through my recent messages. There's one from Chase from a few days ago.

CHASE: Missed you at rehearsal again. Everything okay? The guys are starting to think you've abandoned us. ;)

I hadn't replied. Didn't know how to without revealing too much.

As I stare at the message, Megan's words echo in my mind. Have I really been that transparent all these years? Can everyone see right through my professional facade to the complicated tangle of feelings I have for Chase?

More importantly, what am I going to do about it?

The induction ceremony is less than a month away, and with it, the prospect of standing on that stage with Chase, in front of the whole world. The thought sends a shiver down my spine - equal parts excitement and terror.

I start to type out a reply to Chase, then delete it. Then start again. Finally, I settle on:

ME: Sorry I've been MIA. Label stuff's been crazy. Dinner this week to catch up on ceremony details?

It's not much, but it's a step. As I hit send, I can't help but wonder: how much longer can we keep dancing around this thing between us? And what happens when the music finally stops?

I guess I'll find out soon enough. For now, I have a label to run and a ceremony to prepare for. Personal feelings will haveto wait. They always have. As much as I fucking hate it, I almost feel numb to it now.Almost.

But as I turn back to my computer, Chase's face on that album cover catches my eye again. And I wonder, not for the first time, if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life by continuing to push him away.

October 5, 2017

The throbbing bass from Chase's Malibu home vibrates through my steering wheel as I pull into the driveway. The house blazes with light, every window alive with movement and shadows. This isn't the intimate gathering I'd expected when Will mentioned a "party." This is something else entirely.

I sit for a moment, my knuckles white on the wheel. I should have come sooner. Should have talked to him right after the promotion announcement. But I'd been caught up in the whirlwind of new responsibilities, of proving to the board that I could handle both roles. And if I'm honest with myself, I'd been avoiding this conversation.

The front door stands wide open, music and voices spilling into the night. The moment I step inside, my senses are assaulted. The sickly-sweet smell of marijuana mingles with something sharper, more chemical. Cocaine. I'd recognize that smell anywhere after fifteen years in the industry. My stomach churns.

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