Wooing a Witch

Corrie Kavanaugh's Office

The small office is extremely neat and tidy. At the center of the hardwood floor is a large, stainless steel desk with a glass top facing the door. The desk takes up the majority of the room. A high-backed executive leather chair is placed behind the desk. Beneath the single window in the room are two simple, but comfortable chairs.

Upon the desk is a large LCD monitor, keyboard and mouse so that she can easily pull up a client's file. Several papers rest atop the black desk blotter, many adorned with pen marks and Post-Its. Several black file cabinets stand tall behind the desk, holding hard copies of the files.


ds01.jpg rc03.jpg
Corrie Rhys

Valentine's Day.

It is usually viewed one of two ways. A date to celebrate love, to celebrate relationships, where a little cupid runs around and shoots tiny arrows to perpetuate true love… or a date which has been created by candy manufacturers and florists, in order to force a sign of affection from a significant other (or for those who are not so encumbered — Singles Awareness Day).

For Corrie Kavanaugh, it is actually a third way in which it is viewed.

A work day.

One in which she has been on hold for what seems like forever with the offices of one Rhys Owens. Plenty of time has been had between the run-in with Gideon Reese, and yet her anger over certain things has not subsided.

Even so it would appear that she is lost in her thoughts as it takes the woman at the other end of the line three attempts to get her attention. "Miss Kavanaugh!" The last is stated quite impatiently. "Mr. Owens will take your call now."

Back leans the chair Corrie has seated herself on, only she leans a little too far and it clatters to the floor. "Bloody hell."

"What was that?"

"About bloody time. Thank you." More softly to herself she mutters an ow and winces as she picks both herself, and the chair back up.


In his office, the phone beeps lightly. "Mr. Owens, I have Ms Kavanaugh on the line. She's been waiting several minutes now."

"Yes, I know." Rhys says shortly. "Thank you."

He looks at the little flashing light on the phone. Pressing his lips together for a moment, he inhales deeply and reaches for the handset. In that instance, businesslike smile appears on his lips and his voice takes on a more upbeat tone. "Ms Kavanaugh. Good afternoon. And how are you today?"


Embarrassed. Bruised. These are the answers she would like to give.

Instead she curtly answers, "Better than I was on Friday evening." Corrie glances down at the chair to prove to herself that one of the wheels has not snapped off, then she seats herself in it gently. "I must say, Mr. Owens, that while I am not entirely surprised by this turn of events, I had rather expected more from you." A small beat, and then, "At least on the business front."


"Mm." Owens hms shortly, an almost grim sound as the smile fades from his lips. "Perhaps you'd care to elaborate? Unfortunately, I'm not yet privvy to a play-by-play of your meeting with Mr. Reese."

Not quite true, but he'd rather hear her side of things first, rather than spend useless time placating her for things well-beyond his control.


"Mm. But you are aware of it," Corrie points out. Not privy to a play-by-play her arse. Even from only a brief run in with Gideon, she's positive the man went joyously back, detailing the ways he enjoyed torturing her.

"Let's just say that I do not take kindly to the type of threats he was making in regards to the potential competition, nor was I exactly thrilled with the insults he was tossing at the band."

Here is where she pauses. Both to take a breath and to remind herself that there is a chance, though it is likely very minute, that Owens himself is not involved in any of this.

"Should you have decided that Reese Entertainment Media was not interested in Dumnonia, a simple ring on the telephone would have sufficed." Throughout this her voice is kept much calmer than it was previously. Very businesslike in demeanor.


"Ms Kavanaugh," Owens says, inhaling a silent, tight breath, "now that you have, in fact, met Mr. Reese, perhaps you'll be inclined to trust me when I say he does what he will without the say-so of any of we that merely work for him."

He debates just how frank to be now. So, straightening in his chair for a moment, and then simply leaning back in it, he adds, "I run Reese Entertainment Media, Ms Kavanaugh. Mr. Reese is the vice-president of our parent company. Ultimately, the decision to sign or not to sign your band to our label resides with me."


"Yes, I am aware of what you run, Mr. Owens," Corrie says amicably enough in her calm, somewhat neutral business tone. "On paper that all seems sound, and the requested documentation, including that which Mr. Reese so rudely demanded that I send is at the moment being couriered — not faxed — couriered to your office."

A pen can be heard tapping impatiently on the desk before her. Something to keep her hands occupied while her mind continuously replays her conversation with Gideon Reese.

"However, much can be said for family loyalty, even in business."


Rhys chuckles now. "Yes, there is," he agrees congenially enough. "Would it be any different if you were in my position and one of your sisters were in his? Perhaps it will ease your mind somewhat to know that he is my half-brother. And I'm older." Okay, only by a few months, but still. Every day counts. "You'd be surprised what influence that gives me."

In contrast to her, his hands are still on the desk. There's no reason for him to be nervous. "At the end of the day, Ms Kavanaugh, I can't and won't compel you to sign with us. It's entirely up to you. I do believe there isn't another label out there that can do for your boys what we can. But, you are welcome to look."

A beat.

"My half-brother can make life very difficult for you. Let's be clear on that. I won't hide the fact. He does not have my… respect for your race."


Corrie does consider the question, though her answer is easy enough. "Mr. Owens, do forgive me for saying so, but even were the roles reversed, none of my sisters could possibly be as much of an arse as your brother."

Then the underlying thought of 'Bloody hell he knows how many sisters I have' happens to run through her mind and the tapping of the pen becomes a bit more distracted and furious.

"I have never once insinuated that Reese Entertainment Media would be what's best for my boys, but that doesn't mean that others in the industry won't strive to promote them just as well or offer to give them the dedication that Reese will."

The pen stops.

"Then do me a favour. Should we sign this contract, I want a clause instituted that states Gideon Reese will have no interaction with my boys. If he wants to mess with me based on my particular abilities… while I cannot say that I welcome it, I'd rather that than have him mess with my boys."


Rhys actually laughs openly when Corrie calls Gideon an arse. "Ms Kavanaugh," he says through his laughter, "no one in the world can possibly be as big an arse as Gideon Reese — except, perhaps, our father." No point hiding that. She'll figure it out soon enough.

"I can't promise you a clause of that nature, I'm afraid. Nor could I enforce, even if it were added. I am willing, however, to consider the inclusion of appropriate limitations to protect the artists from undue harassment. But, we will need to balance their needs with ours if we are to be of mutual benefit to one another."


The pen begins to idly tap again.

On the one hand, Corrie shouldn't agree to sign a deal with the devil — no matter how charming he appears to be.

On the other, Reese Entertainment Media is the best bet for her boys.

"When you are serious about a contract, Mr. Owens, please send something over to the office and I will have our attorney look it over." When the pen stops again, there is a pause from the woman. "Though I would sincerely appreciate such an inclusion, as that is less something that they will need so much as something I require before I will allow the to sign."


"I have a better idea, Ms Kavanaugh." Rhys says, leaning forward now. His eyes sparkle just a moment or two and he lets a smile leak into the tone of his voice. "Why don't you and I set up a meeting where we can discuss preliminary… requirements. Just you and I. No Gideon. None of your boys. We'll keep it simple. And safe."


Silence rings through the other end of the phone. No pen tapping, not even the sound of the chair gently swiveling as she moves about behind her desk.

A beat.


Finally, "Unfortunately my schedule is booked solid until at least Thursday." Corrie appears to be leaving it at that when she has a thought. "I would appreciate if you could let me know what your own schedule looks like so that I can choose an appropriate location."


"Thursday would be fine. Say…" Rhys leans back in his chair and sticks his feet up on the desk, twisting some to look out the window. "One o'clock? There's a restaurant in Camden I'm familiar with that will likely do the trick. Nice public place. Not owned by Reese, you have my word."

A beat.

Another smile. "Of course, if there's some place you'd prefer?"


"I'll look into the restaurant and let you know," Corrie says, perhaps the very faintest hits of a tease trickling down into her tone. There is another slight pause while she flips through her digital calendar, then hmms. "One o'clock will be fine." She may have to reschedule something with her sister but that likely shouldn't be too much of an issue.


"Do that." Rhys smiles, nodding lightly. "I'll look forward to your call." He watches a bird fly past the window and glances to the time. "Until Thursday, then, Ms Kavanaugh."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License