It was the third time in a week that Jenkins had summoned Brenna to his office—and she knew she was in trouble, just from the sound of his voice over the phone. What had happened now? Had Malcolm complained to him directly? Had he heard the tapes from Blush’s first recording session? It hadn’t gone as well as hoped, because the producer kept asking her for input as he’d done with Damon in the past, and she simply didn’t have enough experience to help.

She pushed through the closed door without fanfare, missing the days when her boss thought she did good work. “What now?” she asked.

Jenkins stood up, steam practically coming out his ears. Oh boy, whatever this was, it was bad. Really bad.

“I just heard what I hope is a nasty rumor.”

God, she hoped it was, too. “What?”

“Word on the street is that Inspiration just signed a hot new kid named Austin Cole. A kid you and Damon scouted in Vegas. And further word on the street is that you sent the kid to him, saying he’d do a better job for him than we could.”

Her options here were simple. Lie. Or tell the truth.

And she’d had enough lying.

“It’s not a rumor. I did it.”

Jenkins slammed a book down on his desk, making papers fly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

She raised her voice, just as angry as he was. “That Damon will do a better job for him than I can! Because I’ve been thrust into a job I’m ill suited for with little to no experience! And that Austin Cole has one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard and, frankly, I thought he deserved better than I can give him. I didn’t want to ruin his career, so I sent him to Damon.”

Jenkins stood before her, red faced, shaking his head. “Damn it, Brenna…”

She hated this. It just kept getting worse and worse. It was supposed to be a dream job, but it sucked. She’d never been more miserable in her work.

Just then, Collette stuck her head through the open doorway. “Um, Brenna, when you get a chance, the copier’s jammed again.”

“Screw the copier,” she snapped, making Collette flinch, then disappear back through the door.

After which she turned back to Jenkins. “And screw you, too. I can’t do this anymore. I’m a smart, likable, professional woman—and I deserve better. I quit.”