The Interview.
Interview with Amelia Clarke, the heroine of Shattered Melody: A Rockstar Romance.
What’s your name, and who are you in your world?
“My name is Amelia fucking Clarke, you nosy bitch.” Amelia coughs and looks to the side, biting her cheek.
“I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re asking a perfectly reasonable question. It’s been a rough day. I’m the CEO of Clarke Records, and I deal with prissy rockstars and their demands all day, so as you can imagine, my fuse is short.” She walks to the corner of the desk and sits, crossing her legs, showing off her patent leather pink Alexander McQueen stiletto heels.
“I was voted into the position a year ago by the board when my father took early retirement. Not that he’d know he was retired, hovering as much as he does,” she said the last bit under her breath. “But I’ve been working toward this my whole life. I went to school in music management and was doing something around here since before I got my driver’s license.”
Well, now. I see I’m going to have my hands full with you. Give us a visual, for my readers’ sake. What do you look like?
“What, are you blind?” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. I am short, but mighty. Five feet doesn’t seem bad when I’m walking around in five-inch stilettos. Stilettos are my life—have an entire room dedicated to them at my penthouse.” She sticks out her foot, admiring the pair she’s wearing. “Some people have hugs or gifts, but my love language is Italian shoe leather.”
She pushes her long mane of red over her shoulder. My hair is a nice auburn—it’s natural, though I pay big money for a good cut, which is ironic since I wear it back so much. I’m fit—Pilates and yoga for the win and my tits are as real as my hair.”
She stands and turns in a circle. “You’ll probably find me wearing designer clothes of some kind. This is a particularly special Stella McCartney power suit she gave me after last season’s runway show. As CEO I have to look the part and those fancy designers are always giving us samples. It makes them look good. Of course, I make them look good.”
*I cock my head, admiring her outfit.* Those heels are gorgeous. I wish I had a whole room for my shoes, and enough shoes to fill it. What time period and location does your story take place?
“Uhm, the present.” She rolls her eyes. “Sorry, I speak fluent snark.”
“My story takes place in the world of Clarke Records. It’s the biggest music label in LA and we pretty much run the industry in this area. My mother and father established the label shortly after I was born. I like to think I inspired its conception.”
What’s your goal in this story?
“Same thing I do every day, Pinky, take over the world!” She laughs at her joke. “But seriously, this guy I had a huge thing for—and I mean, huge—came to me with a problem he couldn’t solve. The dumbass signed his band to a predatory contract with Velocity Records and shit was about to hit the fan because the lead singer had to go to rehab. That label decided it’d be a better move to replace the lead singer than wait until he got out of rehab.”
She shakes her head, choking out a laugh. “Can you believe that shit? The biggest metal band in ten years and they’re gonna just up and change that shit? If you ask me it’s because one of them punched their CEO in the face—not that he didn’t deserve it.”
She sighed, waving her hand as if shooing a fly. “Anyway, my goal is to save these asses from themselves, sign them to Clarke Records, get their master recordings and make more money than God and the Beatles combined.”
Sounds like quite a challenge. What conflicts are you facing?
“You mean other than Velocity pulling some seriously shady shit?” She waits until you nod. “I don’t have a fucking clue how to do it. And the lawyers don’t either. I have the songwriter—who may or may not be the dude I had a thing for—and the band working on putting a documentary together. It’ll be about them and the predatory contracts in the industry. But in the end, that doesn’t fight the legalese.”
How would you describe yourself in a personal ad?
“Boss-bitch CEO with a stiletto addiction.” She says without hesitation. “What, you think I’m joking? I don’t mess around. Why lie? It’s a waste of time.”
Yep. That’s what I would say about you. Can’t go wrong with honesty. What is your family like?
“We are the Clarkes. Clarke Records.” She waits for the light bulb of recognition. “Hello? My parents, Hannah and Ellis Clarke, were the folk duo Feather & Grain? Biggest label in LA? Label for Skyler Dalton? Yellow Number Five? No, nothing? Well. We’re big.” She looks disgusted. “My sister, Elsie, has autism. She’s a musical savant and can play damn near any musical instrument in existence. And write a hit song in a manner of hours. That’s why I sent Skyler Dalton to her. Guess that turned out pretty good because they just had their first child. And damn, is Micah cute.”
She goes from wistful looking to disgusted. “And my father? He’s a mess. After Mom died, he turned into a drill sergeant at the company, worked endless hours, and left most of Elsie’s care to me and the nurses. A few years after it happened, he married his secretary, Madison. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking; she’s only eight years older than me. And now he’s saying they’re splitting—good riddance to bad rubbish for that one. She just wanted a rich husband to travel and fund her shopping habit. One thing I do have to thank her for—she pushed for his retirement to take her around the world.”
Her face softened. “He’s not all bad, though. He cares. Great grandfather. I have some wonderful memories of him, especially with Mom around. But he’s changed. I think he misses Mom still. They were one of those great loves, you know?”
Do you have a pet? What kind? If you don’t, what kind would you like to have?
“My little man, Diesel,” she says, clasping her hand to her heart. “He’s a black Teacup Pomeranian with Napoleon syndrome. And he loves to eat my shoes. Little shit.” She shakes her head. “But he’s a good guy. A traitor, really—likes War better than me, now. Of course, it helps that Warren takes him for motorcycle rides. Pro-tip: when taking your tiny dog on a motorcycle ride, hold him between the driver and passenger so he doesn’t get too squirrely.”
A dog on her bike? That’s one thing I’d love to see. What’s the most terrible thing that ever happened to you?
“My mother died,” she choked out, swallowing hard. “It was a car accident. Damn near twelve years ago. She was picking up my sister from violin lessons and there was a car accident. The fuel line was damaged, and the car caught fire.” She grimaced, turning her head away. “The car caught on fire and Mom didn’t make it. My sister suffered terrible burns. Scars from the fire cover half her body.” Amelia swallowed hard and continued after a moment of silence. “My father didn’t take it well. After that, things just … changed.” She stopped talking and shook her head, waving for you to continue.
Why do you think your author chose to write about you?
She scoffs. “Because I fuckin’ told her to.” She looks at you expectantly, then realizes you’re not going to say anything else. “You think I’m joking? This bitch has written two books with me in it as an ancillary character. I’m more of a main character kind of girl, you feel me?”
Haha! You’re a hoot! Thank you for visiting!
