Read Online When Last We Loved by Fran Baker - Free Book Online Page B

Just what is it that you'd expect as a return on your— your investment?” Something about his intensity had triggered off an alarm in the back of her mind.
    “I'd take the standard fifteen percent, of course.” His insolent gaze slid over her. “Anything else would be optional.”
    “I may not be as well educated as you are, but I'm not exactly dumb.” Her violet eyes shot resentment at him. “I don't need— or want— a sugar daddy to buy my opportunities. I know you well enough by now to understand that you aren't satisfied until you own whatever it is you want.” She was ashamed that she'd ever let him touch her. “I'm not for sale, Hoyt.”
    “And I'm not interested in acquiring anything but the right to manage your career.” His snapping retort made her flinch. “I wouldn't be buying your opportunities, baby. You'd have to earn every ounce of recognition that you might receive. I'd simply introduce you to the people that I know in the recording business. If they like you, we go from there.”
    “Is that really all you'd expect from me, Hoyt?” Cassie's voice was plated with steely pride. “It sounds to me like you think you've named my price. How many of those people that you happen to know in the recording business would dare stand up and tell the head of Diamond T enterprises that they didn't like his singer?”
    The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeaker, introducing the competitors for the fat purse that the best all-around cowboy stood to win.
    “Think it over.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Your voice and my money would be a hell of a combination.”
    “You've paid me for an afternoon's entertainment, Hoyt, and you aren't getting your money's worth.” She hoped he felt the amethyst daggers she aimed at him. “If you'll kindly move out of my way, I'll go get ready for the second set.”
    “You don't realize what a dog-eat-dog world the music field is, Cassie. Wolves like Allen Ingram will chew you up and spit you out like a wad of bad tobacco before breakfast.” Hoyt drove his point home with sharply pointed accusations. “If he can't get rich quick off you, he'll dump you and latch onto some other performer who's willing to settle for second-rate jobs and sleazy skull orchards like the Stardust.”
    “Stop it!” She tried to clamp her hands over her ears, but he grabbed her wrists and forced her to listen.
    “Before you give me a definite answer, I want you to think a few things over very carefully,” he insisted. “Who keeps the books for your group? I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that you and your band have been so busy trying to get ahead that you haven't even seen a third of the money you've made. If Ingram's such a good manager, why hasn't he been able to book you into the Petroleum Club? I'll tell you why. Because no reputable owner in Dallas wants anything to do with the biggest liar and cheater who ever walked the pike.”
    “Are you quite through?” Cassie was shaking with rage. Allen had his faults, no doubt about it. But he'd broken through some of those seemingly impossible barriers that a beginning singer runs up against, and he'd done it without ever laying a finger on her. “What do you know about having to struggle day in and day out just to put food on the table?” she demanded. “How can you stand there and put Allen down when everything you own has been handed to you on a silver platter? What right— ”
    “I'm not through yet, and you're going to hear me out.” Hoyt kept her handcuffed. “When you take off those rose-colored glasses you insist on wearing, maybe you'll realize that your dear old manager has ruffled more feathers than a fox in a chicken house. And his reputation hangs around your neck and weights you down just as surely as if it belonged to you.”
    “If I'm making a mistake, Hoyt, then I'll pay for it.”
    “You certainly will, little lady. You certainly will.”
    The crowd in the stands whooped in excitement as the first bronc