by KT Strange
“You like it?” he asked. “I figured it was more original than flowers.”
I looked back at the cactus. I was really bad with plants, mostly out of spite since my sister was so gifted with them.
“It’s great,” I managed. I reached to pick it up and immediately stabbed my hand on one long spine. “Fu—dge,” I saved the curse word and Jake laughed.
“You can swear here, nobody gives a fuck,” he said, not seeming to mind at all that I’d just injured myself on his ‘thoughtful’ present. I cradled my hand against my chest.
“Thanks for filling me in on that,” I replied. My hand throbbed; the spine had thrust in deep to the fleshy pad at the base of my thumb and I hoped the thing was clean. If I’d stuck with my studies, I would have learnt how to instantly purify and cauterize wounds with my powers, something that was probably more useful to witches on the battlefields during the Napoleonic wars. Now I wished I’d stuck with it long enough to heal paper-cuts and other low level, day-to-day annoying injuries. “Well,” I said, painfully awkward. “Thanks for the cactus. I’m gonna get settled and head down to the studio.”
“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows hiking up. “I heard what they got going on down there. Nothing that’s a smash, honestly. You’ll have your work cut out for you until they figure out how to write a chorus.”
Instantly I felt defensive. Sure, they were werewolves. Sure, we’d gotten off on the wrong foot. But they were my band.
“Well if they got signed as fast as they did, I’m sure they’ve got something special in their writing,” I said. “Didn’t you take like, eight years of demo submissions before anyone would even look at you?” I asked. I’d done a little research the night before on Jake Tupper in between laughing at Irish people eating poutine.
Jake’s face clouded for a moment and he smirked.
“I just didn’t want to sell out. I didn’t change my sound; I just waited for the industry to change and then they finally figured out what a hit sounds like,” he shot back.
“Right, well congrats on that,” I said as I set my backpack down on the edge of my desk, creating as much of a barrier between him and me as possible.
“I went to number one on my first single on the hot indies,” he insisted, the thread of wounded-male-ego in his words.
“That’s great,” I tried to adopt a soothing tone. “Like really, amazing.”
He seemed to buy it.
“You’re going to learn so much while you’re here,” he said. “If you have any questions—” He held out his hand, palm up. I stared at it and then looked at him quizzically. “Gimme your phone, I’ll program my number into it.”
My gut didn’t even have time to flare with alarm.
"Tupper, why are you monopolizing our manager?” Finn had appeared behind Jake, startling him. Jake made a show of laughing loudly and pointing at Finn with both index fingers, as if he hadn’t just crapped his pants.
“Hey there Finn Gunner, right? Just having a friendly chat, that’s all,” he said before glancing back at me. “Darcy here doesn’t mind. She likes it.”
My hand was aching and I pressed my fingers along the line of fire where his crappy cactus had stabbed me. Finn met my gaze over Jake’s shoulder and tilted his chin down in a light nod.
“Well that’s nice but she’s gotta be downstairs right now. We wouldn’t want to have to complain to Willa that Darcy here’s not doing her job, right?” Finn said, and Jake stepped back in surprise.
“Well I think that would be a pretty dick move, Gunner,” he said. I knew that Finn didn’t mean a word of his threat though. He’d probably gotten the same vibe off of Jake that I did: if he’d told Jake to back off because I was their manager, Jake would have pushed back and taken it as a man-to-man challenge. But if he threatened my job, then Jake would think that Finn was an ass and back off on his own so that he seemed like the ‘good guy’ in the situation.
Finn’s esteem grew ten times in my eyes right then.
“I know all the dick moves,” Finn said, but he was looking at me and not at Jake. “You gonna come do your job?” He sounded so stern he could have been a dead ringer for his twin. I grabbed my laptop and shut my backpack in the locking drawer of my desk.
“Coming,” I said, breezing by Jake. “Later, Jake.” Behind me I could hear Jake murmur something to Finn, but I couldn’t exactly make out what. I made tracks for the stairs, where Finn caught up to me.
“Sorry,” he said as we took the stairs together. “I wasn’t really—”
“I know,” I said, “but it worked and that’s all I care about.”
“Just so you know, I’m helping you dodge a bullet. He’s not a great person. Or even a good person,” Finn commented, voice pitched low as he opened the studio door for me.
“That message I got loud and clear yesterday,” I replied.
“Yesterday?” he asked. We’d entered into a sound buffering vestibule, where there was a door in front of us, inlaid with thick glass. I could see the band inside the control room, and the muffled beat of music barely reached us. The lights were dimmer in here, and I could feel the weight of the sound proofing press in all around me. It could have been claustrophobic, but it was comforting instead. Finn waited for the main door to shut before he put a hand on the glass door’s handle. “Yesterday?” he asked again, concern etched around his eyes.
“He’s the kind of guy who thinks everyone is a fan, until proven otherwise, and sometimes that’s not even enough evidence for him,” I said. Finn nodded slowly.
“If he gives you trouble...”
“I can take care of myself,” I lied. Finn had no idea that I could maybe give out a few static shocks and his level of knowledge was going to stay that way.
“I know,” he said, his voice almost cracking. “I know you can. Trust me, if there’s anyone who knows just how much a girl like you can take care of herself, it’s me. But even so, I don’t give a fuck how high up on the label ladder he is, if he even breathes in your direction funny, you tell me and we’ll deal with it.”
His words took me by surprise. First his admission which sounded raw and almost angry, and second, his threat toward Jake. I swallowed my questions when I looked at him better in the dim light that filtered through the door to us. His expression was shuttered and entirely closed off.
“Alright,” I agreed. He let out a breath.
“Good, let’s listen to some rockin’ tunes,” he said, and ushered me into the studio.
Six
The rest of the band turned to see us enter, and another person, a guy a few years older than the band-members who was tapping furiously at his keyboard to save a file as he twisted his body to look.
I felt Finn’s presence behind me, but as opposed to feeling loomed-over it was comforting. He had neatly slid himself in between me and Jake upstairs, giving me an out that I was grateful to take.
“Hey guys,” I gave a little half-wave to the band before eyeing up the man in a swivel chair at the recording console.
“Rory, this is Darcy, our new manager,” Finn said, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. His fingers lingered there for a long moment before he pulled away, moving around me to get himself settled on the couch next to Charlie.
“Rory Griffin,” Rory said by way of greeting as he got out of his chair and held out his hand, grabbing my un-injured hand to shake it firmly. I nearly squeaked but stomped on my inner fangirl. Rory Griffin had produced five of my favorite recent indie rock records, and I was amazed that he had worked with Phoenixcry at all. He had his pick of acts and, probably, turned down five times as much work as he took on.
“Darcy Llewellyn,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pretty name,” he said, and winked playfully. “Pretty girl.” Eli made a low noise, and Rory looked guilty. He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not sexually harassing you, I just— some of the older producers I worked with were, uh, older. And old school. You know. Anyway, now that I’ve made a t
otal ass of myself,” he pointed at a primo seat near the console. “Let’s wow you with what these guys have put together.”
I glanced at Eli in confusion. Had he actually growled? He was staring steadily at Rory’s screen, ignoring my gaze, if he was even aware of it. But I saw his jaw clench, the slightest tensing of his muscles. He was totally aware of the fact I was staring at him and he probably didn’t miss a single thing in the room. I needed to find out more about werewolves and their senses. What should have been a fun but challenging internship at a label had become suddenly difficult bordering on dangerous. Don’t worry about your internship, they said, it’ll be fine, they said. You’ll get to work with all kinds of people, and also supernatural beings. Oh wait, that wasn’t in the brochure. I took a breath and my seat, as Rory clicked around on his computer.
A roar of music burst out of the speakers and I tried not to jump in my seat. Guitars immediately filled my senses, and a drum-beat thundered into my heart as the first song played. I felt, rather than saw, the five guys looking at me, gauging me for my reaction. Normally I would have tapped my foot along to the beat, but I felt instantly self conscious. What if I was off-time? Finn’s raw voice, the perfect mix of honesty and grit, reached right into my chest and wrapped tight around my heart. When the sound of a triple-kick drum-line opened up the chorus, I realized I was dealing with not only werewolf musicians, but talented werewolf musicians. It was one thing to know abstractly they should have had to be good in order to get signed, but bad acts got signed all the time.
By the time the post-chorus bass riff shivered up my spine, I turned to stare back at the band that I was now in charge of with a sinking sense that there was no way I could ask to be reassigned. Phoenixcry was too good, and it was only enhanced by the fact that their innate magical existence imbued every note sung and chord played. Breathing was difficult. I loved music on a bad day, and this was more than music, it was an experience. The lyrics were thrumming along through my veins, the drumbeat taking over my heartbeat. It was too much. I gazed at the floor, not wanting to meet the eyes of any of them because I knew they’d see how much their music had affected me. There was no way I was going to be vulnerable in front of them, even if they were a band I was managing.
The song ended on a drum crash, and Rory sat back in his chair with a sigh, one arm cast over his eyes, so he could better enjoy the music I guess.
“That’s like good sex. Or amazing pizza,” he said. He rocked forward. “What did you think?”
There was a tight feeling in the air, and it was definitely because a bunch of werewolves were staring at me intently. It wasn’t easy to put aside a lifetime of fearing someone in order to work with them and be in enclosed spaces with them. But I needed to focus on my career and my future. That meant dealing with creatures I’d long believed to be a witch’s natural enemy. So far it seemed like they were more interested in their music than ripping my throat out, so that was a bonus I guess.
“Well I wouldn’t say it was amazing pizza,” I replied, and saw Cash tense up out of the corner of my eye. His fingers had been drumming on his knees but they stopped when I spoke. I glanced up at the rest of the band: Eli looked like he didn’t give a shit what I thought; Finn was gazing at me with a half-smirk tugging at his lips; Charlie was on his phone; Ace was as tense as Cash although, where Cash radiated irritation, Ace looked nervous. “But it was really, really good,” I finished, transferring my attention back to Rory. “Honestly I think if the rest of the tracks are like that one, it’s going to be one of the best albums to come out of XOhX in a long time.”
I meant it too. Sure, they had a huge hand-up based on the fact they were werewolves and that musical ability pulsed through their veins, but the song was flat-out great.
Charlie lifted his head from his phone.
“Glad to know we’ve got your good opinion, Darcy, and now that we’ve got it we don’t want to lose it,” he said with a playful grin and I paused and wondered if he’d ever read Pride and Prejudice. Did werewolves even read? I really needed to know more about the band if I was going to manage them but that seemed like a dangerous road to go down. Eli cleared his throat and Charlie rolled his eyes, but fell quiet. The master commands, I thought as Rory made some humming noises and tapped up another track.
“Let’s listen to—” he cut-off as Eli interrupted him by standing and clearing his throat.
“No, I think we’re good on the listening party,” he said. “She can hear the rest of it at the show.”
“Show?” I asked, straining to look way, way up at him. He and Finn were strikingly tall, broad across the shoulders although Eli seemed to take up more room despite the fact they were both obviously identical twins. How long was it going to take before I got used to their overwhelming presence? Shaking myself out of my reverie, I couldn’t help but frown. Why hadn’t I been told about the show? I was their manager, wasn’t I?
“Yeah,” Finn said as he stood as well, kicking Charlie in the shoe as the other werewolf was staring at his phone again. Charlie jerked his head up and glared at Finn and I swore for a moment that Charlie actually bared his teeth in a silent snarl. “We’ve got a private house show tonight. We didn’t tell the label about it because,” Finn paused and shrugged, “It was booked before they signed us and it’s not really their business because it’s not like they can promote it.”
Rory turned back to his computer.
“Troy’s going to kill you if he finds out,” he sing-songed under his breath but the wolves ignored him although I knew they could hear it.
“Why don’t we take this to Sparrow’s Coffee down the street,” Charlie offered with an easy smile at me. He’d forgotten my no-outside-contact rule. I wasn’t sure if I should call him out on it. Worrying my family was stalking me and would find out I was working with a band of werewolves was pretty paranoid, right? “That way Rory doesn’t have to feel bad about overhearing things he can’t run his mouth about.”
Rory snorted.
“Thanks, asshole,” he said with affection, throwing up the bird at him without looking. Cash was on his feet without a word, and out the door. Finn glanced after him before looking at me.
“Do you want me to go with you to get your stuff from your desk?” he asked. I licked my lips and shook my head. He obviously was thinking that Jake would be lurking around my desk. The indie star probably had better things to do but I didn’t want to test that theory.
“No, I’m good. We’ll go for coffee, and talk and then come back, right?” I asked. One cup of coffee at a cafe wasn’t going to be the end of me. Eli gave a brief nod and nudged Ace up. The shorter wolf bounded to his feet.
“Sounds great. I could use a caffeine hit right about now,” Ace said.
“If Willa or Troy comes hunting you guys down?” Rory didn’t bother turning around in his seat as he spoke, his fingers flying over the keyboard. From the looks of it, he’d already pulled up another project and was setting up a new session to record.
“Tell them we took our new manager out for celebratory espresso shots,” Eli said, his voice flat. “Come on, Miss Llewellyn.” He gestured to the door. Finn’s eyebrows shot up and then back down again when Eli glowered at him. Ace’s lips parted in surprise, but he quickly went to the door and held it open for me.
“Oh it’s Miss Llewellyn, now?” Finn hissed to Eli out of my hearing as I walked out of the room.
“Just reminding everyone of who she is, and what that means to us,” Eli shot back. “Just in case some of you...” His words died away as I beat it out of the studio part of the XOhX offices and took a sharp left to go outside the building.
Cash was there, talking on his phone although when he saw me, he ended his call with an abrupt,“I’ll call you back later.” He shoved his phone in his pocket and jerked his head toward the door behind me. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Finn and Eli are being twin buttheads, Charlie is eating invisible popcorn and enjoying the fireworks,” Ace said fro
m behind me as he came out into the light. He squinted hard. It was bright outside, enough that I’d been uncomfortable for a moment from the change of the softly-lit studio. Was it worse for a werewolf? His senses, like eyesight, should have been better theoretically, right?
“Great,” Cash muttered as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Idiots.”
“Well,” Ace shrugged and looked at me. “Sorry, I just want you to know that I’m excited to work with you even if you’re a, uh, y’know—”
“Ace,” Cash growled, “Could you not be a complete fucking pleb for at least one moment of your life?”
“What? She needs to know it’s fine. I’m fine with it, even if Eli’s got a stick up where the sun doesn’t shine and you’re grumpy because you’re old school. Charlie doesn’t care, and neither does Finn.”
“Charlie doesn’t care because the band is more important to him than anything else, and Finn’s too busy checking out—” Cash stopped short and fell quiet as he glared at me, seeming to remember I was still standing there.
“Well this has been educational,” I commented to a leafy tree that stretched out its branches to shade half the street. Ace edged closer to me and playfully punched me in the shoulder, a light tap that was more of a brush than a hit.
“You seem like good people, even if you come from bad people,” he said and Cash inhaled hard. He looked like he wanted to smash his face into his hand and hold it there. What the hell did that mean, bad people?
“What?” I asked, eyes narrowing. Okay, sure, my family were stuck up and thought themselves to be better than everyone, including the other members of the council, but that was just them. That was their deal, and most of their friends were the same.
“Ignore him,” Cash interrupted, “he doesn’t know anything.”
“That’s not true,” Ace protested, “just cause I’m younger than you doesn’t mean you’re hot—”
