Page 73 of The Last Love Song
Brad appeared in front of Helen and dumped his in-tray on her desk. ‘Can you hold the fort for half an hour, love? I know it’s your lunch break but everyone else is out. You can take a break when I get back. I shouldn’t be long.’
‘Sure.’
‘Good girl. Oh, and can you sort out my in-tray if you get a chance? There’s stuff from months ago I haven’t got around to reading. Keep what should be actioned and bin the rest.’
‘But I—’
‘Use your common sense. You seem to have lots of it. See you later.’ Brad jogged towards the door.
The hour between one and two was always quiet. Helen had been looking forward to her daily salad sandwich at the cafe round the corner. Sighing, she pulled the in-tray in front of her and began to sort through its contents.
Thirty minutes later, her reception desk was covered with paper. Helen was horrified at what she’d found. Twelve unpaid bills stretching back over four months, and seven follow-up demands only now opened by her own fingers. Several threatened legal action. But the worst, from the Inland Revenue, named a court date in two weeks’ time. The amount the Revenue alone were demanding ran into thousands of pounds.
Helen couldn’t understand how Brad could have ignoredsuch aggressive, threatening letters. If he didn’t respond soon, surely Metropolitan would find itself in serious trouble. Helen shook her head and began to sort the letters into three piles: urgent, very urgent and incredibly urgent. She’d have to give Brad the bad news when he returned from lunch.
‘I like their sound, I like their look and I definitely think they’ve got something.’ Brad took a sip of his pint.
‘Good. So are you going to make us an offer or what?’
Brad shrugged. ‘I dunno. We’re a small company, Freddy. We have four quite successful groups and one mega-seller on our label. You’re asking for serious time and money to be spent on your lot. Our resources are stretched as they are. If this had been a year ago, I’d probably be snapping them up, but as it is, we’re at full stretch with the bands we do have.’
‘Come and see them, Brad. They really are great live. Trust me on this,’ Freddy implored his old friend.
‘Sure, I’m willing to do that. The problem is, I know the kind of deal you’ll want financially, and I just don’t think Metropolitan Records can provide it at the moment.’
‘Look, you know how I admire you as a producer, Brad. You’re one of the best, and I really think Metropolitan is going to take off in the next couple of years. Therefore, if you’re willing to give my boys a shot, we in turn might be prepared to come to some kind of a compromise on the financial side of things. We could, for example, take less upfront for a larger royalty.’
Brad drained his pint glass and smiled at Freddy. It was a decent compromise. ‘Okay, you win. I’ll come and see them at their next gig.’
‘Thursday night at the Civic. Should be a good crowd. They’ve gathered quite a following.’
‘Fine. I’ve got to run, mate, sorry. I’m late for my next appointment as it is.’
‘No problem. I’ll meet you at the Civic on Thursday at seven thirty. Try to make it as near to the start as you can.’
‘Sure. Cheers, Freddy.’
Freddy watched Brad leave the pub. He signalled to George the barman to pour him another pint. He hoped he hadn’t sounded too desperate, but Metropolitan Records really were his last port of call before he had to admit defeat.
It was 6.30 p.m. and there was still no sign of Brad. Everyone else had gone home. Helen prowled round the reception area wondering if she should just leave the bills on her boss’s desk with a note attached to them.
Just as she was putting her coat on and switching off the lights, Brad swung open the front door.
‘Hi, kid. You still here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Working overtime even as a temp, eh? Jilly will have to watch out for her job. She always vanished at five thirty on the dot. Go home now, love. See you tomorrow.’ He started to walk past her in the direction of the stairs.
‘Brad, I was waiting for you actually.’
He spun around. ‘Yeah? Why?’
‘Because of these.’ Helen scooped the pile of bills off her desk and handed them to him.
‘What exactly are “these”?’
‘The contents of your in-tray. I really think you’d better read them.’
