Chapter 10

Gabe Palman’s office looks more like a greenhouse than the typical professional office. Every surface in the room is made of glass: the desk, the paperweights, and a ladder that holds a variety of potted green plants. Even the far wall is made of glass, offering a sweeping view of Times Square’s glittering lights and crowds of people. Not that I can see a lot with Gabe pacing back and forth in front of it.

“Coffee?” he says. “Tea? Water?”

“No, thank you,” I say. I glance over at Kyle, who shakes his head too.

“Right.” Gabe stops pacing. “Let’s get down to business then.” He takes a seat at his desk, placing his hands in a steeple. “I want ten tracks. Original music. The same style you posted online.”

Despite the fact that I’m sitting beside Kyle, the drummer for one of the most famous bands in the world, Gabe’s gaze doesn’t waver from my face. It dawns on me that he’s serious about me, not just for my connection to Shade.

“What are you offering?” I ask after a moment.