by RH Tucker
“Look, Daniel, I’m sorry,” my dad finally says. “Feral Dive had a great run. But I can’t keep that boat floating anymore. They fulfilled their two-record deal, and I gave you the option for the third. Unfortunately, that record—”
“You’ve gotta be shitting me?” Daniel spits out, leaning closer, staring my father down.
I’ve seen this before. No matter how much they try to act unintimidated by my father—and hey, maybe they’re not— they never get what they want. However, that doesn’t stop them from voicing their unfiltered opinions one last time.
“Third record? Jimmy, you gave those kids a deal with no marketing budget, no touring schedule, and no one in Rich Records behind them. They might as well have released their third record independently.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” My father stays his ground, keeping his hands together, and his gaze still locked on Daniel. After a moment more, Daniel rolls his eyes, scoffs, and gets up from the table. “Pleasure doing business with you, Daniel.”
“Go to hell.”
The man spins around, heading out of the restaurant, while I close the folder in front of me. “You didn’t bring up my plan.”
“Of course not. Which is why I told you to keep it to yourself, Austin.”
“Dad, you might’ve had a good ROI if you’d just spent a little on a social media manager for them. Their records can still rank in the charts.”
“Know when to cut your losses, son,” he replies. “Sure, I could’ve given them one more record, but what happens after that? No, we need artists with that organic reach. Spending money on an act that will soon be past its prime is pointless.”
My brows rise, knowing there’s nothing I can say or do to counter his opinion.
“You ready?” he asks.
Staring at my untouched soft drink, I lift my shoulders. “Sure.”
As I rise from the table, I roll up my sleeves, feeling a little more at ease. Following my father out of the restaurant to our car, I hear someone call out his name from behind us.
“Mr. Richards. Mr. Richards!” A guy who’s around my age runs over to us. He looks like he’s in some kind of rock or punk band. His black hair is combed over his face, and he’s wearing black, torn skinny jeans. Both of his wrists are covered with black leather bracelets with little spikes on them.
“Yes?”
“Bret.” He offers a nervous smile, motioning to himself. My father quirks an unsure eyebrow. “Wilcox. Bret Wilcox. You signed my band, Skum Bucket, to that provisional—”
“Oh, yes. What can I do for you?”
Bret shakes my father’s hand furiously. It’s another public display I’ve seen. Artists eager to meet my father, sign a deal with him, or keep a deal with him.
“Yeah, so I’ve left a couple of messages with your office. I wanted to let you know my band is ready to record, sir. We don’t want to squander this opportunity you’ve given us. I don’t. So, let us know when—”
“Son … Burt, was it?”
“Bret.”
“Right. Bret, it’s still touchy right now with your girlfriend. You know as well as I do that that’s the provisional part of your contract. Once that gets squared away, your band will be in that studio recording your EP.”
“Right. No, of course, you’re right, sir. Don’t worry, she’ll definitely be on board.”
“Well, we don’t have much yet.”
“I know, sir.” His repeatedly calling my father “sir” earns a chuckle out of me that I have to hold back. This guy wants a record contract bad. “She’s already recording, sir. You’ll have no problems there. I’ll make sure.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” My dad smiles, but I can’t tell if it’s earnest or he’s playing him. “We have to go. I’ll be in contact when I’m more confident about—”
“Of course. Of course, sir.” Bret cuts him off, shaking his hand vigorously again. “Thank you again for the opportunity, sir.”
My dad nods his head toward me, and we enter the car.
“Who the heck was that?” I ask, finally letting out the chuckle.
“Just some kid dreaming of a record deal. Like all the others.”
“You said you offered him an EP deal, though. Why an EP and not a full record?”
He shakes his head, pulling out his phone. “It’s provisional. We’re working with another artist to make sure he gets what he wants. Plus, I already listened to his demo. They don’t have what it takes. But his girlfriend would be a major acquisition for Rich Records.”
I laugh again, only this time, feeling bad for the guy. “Way to go, Dad. Dream crusher at the lunch table and side hustler on the streets.”
“Life is a hustle. The only way to win is to make sure you’re the one dealing the cards. Remember that.”
11
Jade
I adjust a level on the mixing board, listening to Maddox tap away at his snare drum. Staring into the studio, I watch as his head bobs back and forth. His hands keep the rhythm steady before quickly hitting the toms, then slams his stick on the cymbal, echoing a crash in the studio.
Looking up at me through the window, he grins.
“Yeah, nice, Maddox,” I call to him through the speaker. “But this isn’t a rock record. I’m going for something smooth.”
Rolling his eyes, he nods and returns to tapping away at the snare drum. This time he walks the smooth groove slowly, lightly hitting his sticks over the drum. I know this slower, almost easy-listening music, is a complete one-eighty from the music he likes to play. During our shows, he loves to hit his drum set with authority. And when he’s playing at his DJ gigs, it’s heavy bass songs that make people jump around. He loves it. So, I’m glad he’s not putting up a fight playing the kind of music I’m trying to create.
I wave at him, stopping his play. “That sounds great, Maddy,” I tell him. “Maybe less kick drum, though.”
“Bass is my jam, Jade.” He starts laughing.
“I know it is. But these are my jams.”
“Touché.” He smirks, saluting with a drumstick.
Before he can start drumming again, Bret walks into the room. I wasn’t expecting him, so my eyes immediately turn to Maddox. Whenever I know Bret will be around, I try to make sure Maddox isn’t. To say they don’t get along would be an understatement. I see Maddox’s eyes narrow, watching Bret enter the room.
“Hey, babe. How’s it going?”
“Bret? What are you doing here?”
He leans over, kissing me on the cheek. “Just thought I’d come in and check it out. What’s Maddox doing?”
“He’s … wait, why are you checking on me? Bret, I told you these sessions are going to be closed door.”
He raises his hands in defense, smiling. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to get Vic or Mitch in here.”
“Good because they aren’t invited.”
“Babe, I just want to make sure you’re good. That’s all.”
I take a deep breath, unsure whether I should believe him. I really don’t have a reason not to, but I don’t like that he’s just showing up uninvited either. And I’m still annoyed over the little stunt he pulled, telling the paparazzi I was recording here.
“What’s going on?” Maddox asks behind him, catching me off guard by entering the room.
“Hey, what’s up, Maddox?” Bret says, turning to face him.
Maddox doesn’t answer him. Instead, he looks over at me. “Jade?”
“That’s actually what I want to know,” Bret says, turning to me. “I thought you were singing this stuff. You don’t need Maddox.”
“Hey, don’t tell her what she does and doesn’t need,” Maddox jumps in. “You shouldn’t even be here.”
“Why not?” Bret replies, straightening his shoulders. “I got her this deal.”
“You got her this? What, recording at Rich Records? You and I both know you did this to help out your shitty band.”
“Maddox.” I get up, walking between them.<
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“You know what? Screw you, Maddox,” Bret shouts. “You’ve never liked me.”
“Good job, you figure that one out all by yourself?”
“You guys, stop!” I shout.
Maddox reaches over me, pushing his shoulder. “Bret, you’ve been leeching off of my sister ever since you hooked up with her. I’m getting sick and tired of you using her to try and advance your own crap.”
“I’m not using her!” Bret yells back. “She wanted to do this. Maybe if you were a little more supportive instead of playing in clubs, and hooking up with random chicks, you’d have a little time to actually talk to your sister.”
“You don’t know anything about me except what you read in the tabloids. Something you keep tabs on because you’re so desperate.”
“Screw you!” Bret screams and pushes him.
Putting both of my arms up, I keep a hand on each of their chests, trying to keep them apart. “Stop, you guys!”
“I’m sick of you, man!” Maddox yells. “My sister is not some whore for you to pimp out, trying to get famous!”
“Maddox!” I scream, slapping him across the face.
I’ve never hit my brother. We’ve had arguments and fights. I’ve thrown shoes and rocks at him. I’ve told him he’s an idiot and a jerk and dumb. But hitting him? Striking him out of pure anger? I’ve never done that.
“You see?” Bret calls over my shoulder.
Spinning around, I shove him in the chest. “You’re no better! Always wanting passes or spots on tours! Bret, I’m doing this for myself. Do you hear me? For me!”
“Babe, I know—”
“No! Don’t babe me. I don’t need Rich Records. I don’t need any record company. I just want to make music.”
“Jade, just kick him out, and I’ll keep helping you. We don’t—”
“Shut up!” I spin back around, screaming again at Maddox. Taking a deep breath, I feel the sting at my eyes. But I’m not gonna let myself cry over this. These two have been going back and forth ever since they met one another. I can’t control them, but I can control my environment.
“You need to leave,” I say, almost in a whisper.
“You heard her,” Maddox speaks up. “Get the hell out of here.”
“You, Maddox.”
His face drops. It pains me almost more than anything I’ve ever felt before, seeing his hurt look.
“You, too.” I turn to Bret. Instead of a hurt expression like Maddox, his face is full of apathy.
“Excuse me? Jade, I got this for you.”
“I never asked for this.” Shaking my head at him, I point toward the door. “You need to leave. Both of you. Right now.”
Bret curls a lip and hurries past me to leave. I stare down at the floor, hearing the door open and then slam shut. I see Maddox’s Converse shuffle closer. His arms wrap around me, and mine instinctively go around him.
“I’m sorry, sis,” he whispers to me. “I love you. You know that.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “But you need to go.”
I feel him nod. “Okay.”
Continuing to stare at the floor, I hear the door open and close. Taking a deep breath, I still feel the tears behind my eyelids, but I will not cry. I know my brother loves me, and how bad Bret wants things to work out, but this is all on them, and I will not let them bring me down. These sessions aren’t supposed to bring me down, they’re supposed to be freeing for me.
I hear the door open, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, not knowing how much more arguing I can take. “Seriously, Maddox, I can’t do this. Please just leave.”
“It’s me.” My eyes snap open, hearing Austin’s voice. Turning to face him, he offers me a cringing smile. “Sorry. Is this a bad time? I saw your brother leaving.”
“Yeah … I mean, no, it’s not a bad time.” I finally let out a sigh and drop into my chair. “Did you hear anything out there?”
“Uh, no.” He chuckles. “I mean, your brother seemed upset, but I’m sure sibling rivalries can run pretty hot when you’re rock stars.”
It makes me laugh. “What, no superintendent sibling arguments at your house?”
He starts laughing, shaking his head. “No. Single child. I have stepbrothers and sisters, but don’t see them much.”
“Oh,” I reply. His smile inspires a smirk out of me. “It was just this whole thing with my brother and my boyfriend.”
“Ah, the boyfriend.”
Another sigh escapes me while I twist the chair back and forth. “Yeah. The boyfriend. What about you, Austin? No special person in your life?”
He chuckles, leaning against the mixing table. “Oh, you know. I’ve got a few girls here and there. It’s hard to keep them off of all of this.” He motions to himself in his striped blue and white T-shirt. He looks a little cleaner shaven, but there’s still a five o’clock shadow there. His shaggy hair bobs back and forth while he scans his body. Looking back at me, he gives me a crooked grin. “Pretty impressive, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.” I can’t keep the smile off my face. “It’s so sexy. A real Matthew McConaughey thing going on there.”
His mouth drops, and his eyes widen. “All right, all right, all right. How’d you know I have the same physique as the Dazed and Confused one?”
“I could just tell.”
He laughs. “Hey, you want to take a break?”
“Oh.” His question catches me off guard.
He instantly stands up straight, looking nervously around the room. “Uh … never mind. Sorry, that was dumb. I’m sure you’re trying to get focused after whatever happened with your brother.”
“No. No, it wasn’t dumb. You know … I would like to take a break. I’m starting to feel like Jimmy Richards is worming his way into my day here. What’d you have in mind?”
Looking anywhere but at me, his nervousness seems to be stuck in place. “Well, um, I could go for another one of those double bacon avocado burgers.”
“You trying to fatten me up or something, Austin?”
The comment breaks through his uncomfortableness a moment ago, and he starts laughing. “Heck no. You’ve already got the hips—” His eyes widen, and he starts coughing, choking off his words. “I mean … I, uh … No. You’re … good.”
His crimson face glows brighter than I think I’ve seen anyone ever blush, and his eyes roam around the room, landing on anything other than me. It makes my grin that much fuller.
Getting up from the chair, I walk over to the door. Austin hasn’t moved. “You coming?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
He finally looks over at me. “Yeah. Yes, uh, yes.”
12
Austin
Jade takes a bite of her hamburger, smiling. “Oh, yeah,” she says with a mouthful of burger. “That always hits the spot.”
I can’t help but laugh. A rock superstar sitting in front of me, with her hoodie and sunglasses covering her face, chomping away at her lunch like she’s just a regular person. The funny thing is, the more I’m around her, the more I don’t look at her as the Queen of Kings. I just see Kristen.
“You can really put a burger and fries away.”
She nods, taking a sip of her soda. “You should see me with chili cheese fries. OMG. I could sleep in chili cheese fries.”
I choke on my bite, reaching for my napkin to wipe my mouth. “You’re crazy.”
“What can I say? I love food.” She brushes her hands off over the table, then leans back in the chair. “So what do you love, Austin?”
Her question catches me by surprise. My eyes jump around Charley’s, the burger place that at the moment only has a few other customers inside. We’ve been in here for nearly thirty minutes, but we’ve only been talking about her schedule with her previous tour and the kind of music she’s been wanting to record lately. And food. I was fine talking about all of that because I love getting to talk to her like a normal person and not a rock star. But I didn’t think she’d be interested in what I have to say.
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“Uh …” I lift my shoulders, grabbing a couple more fries. “Um, I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on.” She taps my hand. “You gotta love something. No hobbies?”
I chuckle. “Well, okay. I love music.”
“That doesn’t count,” she’s quick to reply.
“Why not?”
“You work in music. I would hate to think you not only work in the industry, but you put up with a fleabag like Jimmy Richards for something you don’t love.”
I quickly look away, down at my leftover fries and crumbs of my burger. The spite for my father is still there, so there’s no telling her who I am yet … if ever. I try to offer a chuckle, agreeing with her. “I like Legos.”
“Legos?”
Her face drops, and it’s enough to make me laugh. “No, I know what it sounds like. I don’t have Legos lying around my apartment or anything. I get those big ones, like the Death Star or Batmobile. They’re puzzles to me. I take a night or two and kind of just zone out, putting them together. It’s calming.”
Shawn knows about my Lego collecting, and while he makes jokes, it’s not malicious. I’ve always been into building Legos ever since I was little, so my parents know. My father hates it. He thinks it’s childish. I’m not sure what to expect from Jade. Her initial reaction was to be expected, but after my response, I’m not sure if she’s still going to think it’s childish, or silly, or just immature.
Without giving a reaction, she keeps her eyes on me. “What’s the biggest one you’ve ever put together?”
I chuckle to myself. “Hogwarts. Over six thousand pieces.”
Her eyes widen. “Six thousand?” I nod, feeling a little embarrassed. “Austin, that’s insane.” I’m not sure if she means insane in a good way or bad. “I’d like to see that someday.”
More than anything during this entire interaction—more than any interaction I’ve had with her—I’m completely caught by surprise. She doesn’t say it like it’s a funny little joke. She’s sincere. “Uh … sure. Whenever you want.”
