Page 6 of Independence Bae

“You two changed the rock landscape.” Bert leaned forward in his chair, pushing the sleeves on his hipster button down up off his forearms. “Not only changed it, but pioneered a show that was both unapologetic and in your face, but also really intimate.”

Him leaning in his seat normally isn’t a gesture anyone would take note of, but for a guy who looked like he’d stepped out of an Urban Outfitters billboard—he had ink. Not a tribal tattoo or a quote from Kerouac, but ink like I had ink.

“There are a lot of people who not only remember you,” Hillary put a hand on his forearm, “but think you got a raw deal. And not just talking about it in an industry chat kind of way, but in a we wish someone would have the balls to elevate them into a spotlight.”

“What my friends are saying is that we have those balls,” Ivy finished the thought.

Chapter Five

Why when allI wanted was to coast through life for a bit and enjoy the ride, did someone upstairs feel like I needed my life to be shaken up? Just before I met Ted it seemed as if I was at a low point, and meeting him, dating him, getting engaged, it was this whirlwind—but completely thrilling. Now though this new dip and turn made me freaked out and nauseous, instead of giddy and excited.

I never said I did well with change. I mean good grief, I’ve lived in the same tiny town my entire life. Until Ted, my life was pretty predictable. Now though, I’m getting married in a month, and apparently this entitled woman sitting across from us was about to try to woo us out of our sweet little hamlet to this big, loud, skyscraper-y city where everyone honks their horns incessantly.

“So, what’s the pitch? You want what from us, exactly?” Raven sat on the other side of Ted, looking almost bored. Her poker face was impressive. I wish I could school my features into total impassivity like she could.

“We want to take you national. Syndicated. Available to anyone with a smartphone and the ability to download our app.”

From her Birkin bag, Ivy produced two leather portfolios, opening them before passing one to Ted and Raven. A Birkin bag. She had one, and I was too busy freaking out to even stop and drool over seeing one in person instead of in US Weekly. Focus Marley. The portfolio. There were a lot of zeroes on that piece of paper.

“Before Ivy gets too ahead of herself.” The woman who had introduced herself as Hillary jumped in. “There is a very intensive plan laid out on pages three through seven. It’s not just that we want to take you national. Our new app will be bringing in a lot of shows from the time when radio was about connecting with listeners.”

Her husband, Bert, interjected as she took hold of her water, seemingly picking up right where she left off. “We’ve spoken to a lot of big names. Eddie and JoBo, DreX and Mel T, Kevin Matthews, to name a few. There’s a long list of people just like you with listeners that tuned in faithfully and mourned the loss of their shows just like yours. We want to make a DJ forward platform, and I can’t imagine a successful platform without Bear and Raven.”

The three of them were like a well-choreographed dance. It was so similar to how Ted and Raven interacted. Finishing one another’s sentences, anticipating what they were going to say before they said it, filling in the silence when the other needed to pause and digest what was being said. Where Ted and Raven played a seamless game of doubles tennis, Ivy, Hillary and Bert seemed to reinvent the game and play it all at the same time.

While they talked about creative license, freedom from corporate control, and the permission to explore how their show would work best for them, I couldn’t help thinking about our home. Who would handle Carol the Square? Or collect food for needy families for Thanksgiving? Because of Bear and Raven the Wegman’s collected double the amount of food and monetary donations than any other year since they’d been collecting. Not to mention the back to school supply drive, and the tribute for the veterans. North Pole had opened their arms and folded Bear and Raven in with no questions—and now they were a part of us.

“What will happen to North Pole though?”

Raven, Ted, and Penn all pivoted their heads in tandem to look at me. Not with judgement, mind you. They just all seemed a bit shocked that I’d spoken.

“Well,” Bert sank bank in his chair, pulling his leg over his knee and straightening his sock. “the intent isn’t to eliminate Bear and Raven from North Pole—simply to expand what they bring to North Pole, well everywhere.”

“So we’re not leaving North Pole?” I turned to Ted, frustrated at my own stupid voice for sounding so freaking hopeful.

“Love,” The way he caressed my face and pushed the hair behind my ear quieted some of the anxious feeling threatening to swallow me, “that’s a discussion for after lunch when we’re back at the hotel.”

Raven wouldn’t look me in the eye. I knew it at that very moment that she didn’t want to be in North Pole anymore. Not that I blamed her, Penn lived two states south—or potentially in Manhattan whenever he decided to move back.

“Look, we wanted to get all of this business talk out of the way up front so that we could actually enjoy lunch together. I’m sure it’s apparent but Bert is actually a big fan of you two. I hope we didn’t cause any upset.”

Ivy passed me a packet of Kleenex from inside her purse. When had I started crying?

“She’ll be okay.” Ted grabbed my hand, turning my engagement ring between his fingers, “We’re getting married in a month and there are a lot of details that we thought were nailed down that now are just—a mess.”

“Weddings are Ivy’s specialty.” Hillary nudged her friend with a wink. “She planned mine, her own, a handful of our friends. She may look like the queen of the boardroom, but beneath that hard shell she’s a huge softie and a sucker for a good romance.”

Chapter Six

Lunch neededto end so we could check into the hotel and debrief. There were so many things to think about and talk through. It was if all of the stars were aligning for us. A national syndication could be the perfect answer for Penn and me—especially if they stationed us in New York. Penn could move back to Manhattan and manage his hotels from there. It would be perfect.

“Wait—you’re getting married in a month and you haven’t picked your wedding dress?”

The judgement in Ivy’s tone set my back straight. Sweet Marley probably didn’t come up against people of Ivy’s stature very often. The kind that put a hold on the perfect Pnina Tornai years before they even had a potential groom.

I could see her blush from across the table, and I wouldn’t stand for any one’s snotty fucking attitude embarrassing my friend.

“Up until a few weeks ago, Marley had intended on wearing her Mom’s dress. Unfortunately, when it came back from the tailor, she discovered the fastenings on the back of the dress are damaged beyond repair, and there isn’t enough fabric to create a cohesive fix. So, we’re back to the drawing board.” I explained to Ivy, “Thankfully this fantastic trip to Chicago fell in our laps so we’re hoping to grab something off the rack this weekend.”

---