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Vanni. I chalked it up to their being busy and decided to freshen up before I headed out into the city for some lunch.
    I made tracks straight for Central Park, my favorite place to prowl in New York City. With my satchel slung over my shoulder and a hot dog full of grilled onions and sauerkraut in my hand, I disappeared into the country oasis in the midst of the towering skyscrapers. I didn’t care that it was about to snow, I was revitalized by the energy of the city. I needed to keep moving or I’d probably burst in two.
    I switched on my MP3 player, which just so happened to be cued to the new demo material recorded by Dreaming in Blue. Just the sound of Vanni’s voice made me smile. I had become a pretty big fan over the last several months, having that voice sing naughty words into my ear was apparently enough to win my favor. My favorite, for obvious reasons, was a tune called “Wanting Her,” a sensual ballad with a primal rock beat that told the story of needing to have someone you just met. I usually listened to that one twice when I listened to all the rest. It was playing for the third time as I wound my way through the park, stopping briefly to pay my respects to John Lennon at Strawberry Fields.
    After whiling away a couple of hours I headed back to my hotel room, just in time to receive a text from Iris. “ Sending a car. Be ready at three. Dress like you’re getting paid for it. Xoxo Iris .”
    Even without a winky face emoticon I knew she wasn’t being catty or bitchy. She knew how to navigate this town and I was still learning. The good news is I had more than two decades of experience dressing myself. That probably didn’t help Iris feel any better as she no doubt had a minor breakdown that she couldn’t orchestrate a major makeover on me prior to my meeting Jasper Carrington at his Manhattan office.
    I took a page from the French and dressed in layers, most of which were black, with a scarf and hat complimenting the outfit. I looked edgy and hip, which I figured fit the bill of what Jasper wanted me to do for the band. I was barely nervous at all when the car picked me up in front of the hotel, and remarkably had several fingernails left by the time we reached the tall office building for Carrington Entertainment.
    I rode wordlessly up in the elevator and strode across the reception area right to Jasper’s office suite as if I were paid large amounts of money to do so. He wasn’t in his office when I arrived, a power play no doubt, and I was instructed to wait in the sparsely decorated but ric h interior of his office suite.
    I knew if I sat still I’d probably just dissolve into useless human goo so I paced around the large office, which had views of the city facing out from every wall. There were gold albums, platinum albums, signed instruments and awards (so that was how heavy a Grammy was, I had always wondered,) all of which were scattered across the walls and on bookshelves. There were also a lot of photos of Athena, Jasper’s wife, a rising star so bright she only needed the one name.
    The door open and Jasper walked in. He had ice blue eyes and a bright silver mane, the signs of distinguished sophistication that had come at a young age for this record mogul. I knew because I had researched him the minute I got home from the Philly trip. He was only 49 but looked 69, which helped him exude a powerful edge that no doubt allowed him to wheel and deal and make superstars out of nobodies.
    Maybe that would benefit me somehow. One could only hope.
    “Miss Foster,” he greeted with a smooth smile. “So nice to finally meet you.”
    I reached out a hand. “The feeling is mutual.”
    He gestured to a chair. “Please. Sit.”
    I sat.
    He walked around his huge desk and sat in the oversized chair opposite me. “I’m so glad you could come to New York. You come highly recommended.”
    I nodded with a smile. Iris knew how to sell people, even someone with thread bare credentials like me.