She was a smaller-sized woman, taller than me by several inches, but more slender than I was for sure. Yet she dragged the six-foot-two-inch rocker into the sitting area and flung him onto the couch.

“Nova, translate for me,” she commanded, not taking her eyes off her client as she got in his face.

Rossi rubbed at the tender spot at the back of his scalp as he glared up at her.

“I don’t give two fucks what your last manager put up with,” Emmie seethed. “I’m not them. I will throw your dumb ass in a dumpster somewhere and then help the cops look for you.” He started to sneer back at her, but she grabbed his hair again, jerking his head back so hard, his eyes began to water. “Don’t believe me? Try. Me. I will drop your ass if you don’t respect others. Especially the women you will be working with. I don’t care what their job position is. I don’t care how old they are. I don’t give a single fuck how innocent you think the disrespect may be. You want to make a name for yourself in this country like you did back in Italy? Then behave yourself, or I will put you on a plane back to Milan.”

I quickly translated everything for her, and she stepped back. Rossi’s eyes skirted from her to me, narrowing as they skimmed over me in a leering kind of way that had me rolling my eyes.

“You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you,” Emmie continued. “This is your only warning.” Her gaze went around the room, taking in the other three rockers. “The only warning any of you will get. Behave and respect one another. You want to kill one another? Do it when you get home.”

I repeated everything in Italian and then Russian for Garik’s benefit.

Solemnly, Emmie crossed to where Marcus was still holding Laura with her arms locked over her chest. “Are you okay?” she asked in a softer tone. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Laura grumbled in Italian, and I quickly translated for her as she spoke. “Only insulted me.”

“Next time, come to me first. I won’t allow him to harass you in any way.”

After a few deep breaths to calm herself, Laura gave a nod, and Marcus finally released her.

“Nova, you should introduce yourself,” Emmie instructed, taking the guitar from Rodger and inspecting it. “Then we should get going for the first set of interviews.”

It only took a few minutes to let them know who I was and that I would be helping to translate for them, even though I was sure they had already garnered that small detail.

“Your Russian is flawless,” Garik praised when we were in the back of a van on the way to the first radio station. “Who taught you?”

“My best friend,” I told him evasively. “He taught me Italian as well. He comes from a multilanguage home.”