“Who is it?” Justin asked conversationally as he pulled out his cell.
“Funny name,” Neil mumbled. “Deck something or other.”
“Declan McNamara. The band is Jealousy…I think,” Daria chimed in.
“Declan,” Tegan repeated before turning to me. “Did you know about this?”
“No, of course not.” I shook my head as though the gesture was proof of my sincerity.
“Is that a problem?” Daria asked.
“Yeah. It’s a big problem.” Justin stood slowly. He extended his hand to Neil and then to Ray and Daria. “Thank you for dinner and thank you for your interest. It was nice to meet you all.”
“What’s your hurry?” Neil shook hands with each band member numbly. “Is something wrong?”
“You could say that,” Justin replied. “We aren’t sharing a label with Declan. Ever. There’s bad blood and a whole lotta bad history between us. I’m not going to pretend to like him for the sake of selling a coupla records, and I won’t give you the power to pit us against each other for sales, notoriety, or popularity.”
“We wouldn’t do that. Hell, we didn’t know there was any animosity between you at all.”
“Bullshit,” Justin hissed. “If you’ve paid any attention to the LA indie scene over the past year, you know all about it. And if you haven’t paid attention, you probably aren’t the right fit for us after all. Thanks for your consideration and uh…good luck with Dec. You’ll need it.”
Justin pulled back the curtain and made a dramatic exit worthy of…well, me. Tegan and Johnny followed closely behind him. But Ky didn’t move and I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was when the band unceremoniously walked away from a meeting. And I should have known by now. This wasn’t the first meeting Justin had stormed out of. He was a hothead with a short fuse. This time, however, it was entirely my fault. I’d been so concerned about avoiding the big firms and doing this my way that I’d forgotten to ask a few key questions and had neglected my research. No one in their right mind would sign an unformed band. If Sandstone signed Declan, it had to be with the intent to cross-promote him with Zero.
Neil made a production of signing the bill before putting his credit card in his wallet. Then he stood and motioned for Ray and Daria to join him. I swiped my clammy palms on my khakis as I stood. When snappy repartee eluded me, I decided to stick with the truth.
“Um, that was uncomfortable.”
“What can we say? Neither of us knew Declan McNamara would cause a problem tonight.” He shrugged nonchalantly before offering me his hand.
“If I’d known you’d already signed him, I could have put it together,” I admitted.
“Ah.” Neil tapped his forefinger against his temple and twisted his lips into a condescending smirk. “Due diligence is crucial, Mr. Rourke. That contract was signed twenty-four hours ago. We posted a video, didn’t we, Daria?”
“We did,” she confirmed, casting an unreadable glance from me to Ky, who chose that moment to finally look up from his cell.
“I’m sorry I missed it,” I said, pursing my lips unhappily.
“Look it up on our website. It should be all over social media too.” Neil parted the curtain and held the fabric in a lazy grip. “We’re still interested. Give me a call. You probably know better than most that a little competition is the best form of publicity. There’s really no reason we can’t work together.”
I watched the drapery fall into place, then gazed unseeing at the crystal chandelier over the table. My head ached, my hands shook, and the bowl of tagliatelle Bolognese I’d devoured sat in my stomach like a bowling ball. I couldn’t believe I’d fucked up so spectacularly. I wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Well, um…”
“I recorded it,” Ky said matter-of-factly.
“Why?” I knit my brow as I gingerly reached for my wineglass.
“So we’ll have leverage if they release any footage of Justin exploding. I doubt they will, but we’ll want to back up our side of the story.”
I gulped my wine and winced. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, rounding the table. He stopped a couple of feet away from me and narrowed his eyes.
“Tonight. I should have been up-to-date on my sources. I should have known they’d signed Declan. At the very least, I should have checked their Instagram page,” I said, swirling my wine like a faux connoisseur.
“Maybe, but it’s not the end of the world.” Ky glanced down at his phone when it buzzed in his hand, then typed a quick message and stuffed it into his back pocket.
“Are you texting Justin?” I asked.
“No. My sister. I’m late for a family…meeting. I didn’t want to call for a ride until I was sure this shit show was over.”
“Where’s your truck?”
Ky slipped my glass from my fingers before I lifted it to my lips. “Slow down. And relax. I didn’t bring my truck ’cause I can guaran-damn-tee you I’m gonna wanna get shitfaced afterward.”