Starting from Zero (Starting from 1)

I nodded numbly and glanced at the photos one last time. A small one in the corner of the wall collage caught my eye. It was of Charlie with an older couple. “Who are they?”

“Gray’s folks. That’s from my high school graduation. I think it was the last time they flew to California.”

“You knew them?” I choked, studying the burly-looking older man and his white-haired petite wife with their arms around Charlie.

“Of course! I think it was one of those funny situations where they probably knew Dad and Gray were more than friends, but no one said a word. So weird. People make things needlessly complicated,” he scoffed.

“Charlie, your father will see you in the main conference room now,” a young woman with long blonde hair announced with a sunny smile.

“Thank you, Trish. This way, boys!”

I couldn’t move. My feet were stuck to the carpet and my mouth was bone-dry. I couldn’t make sense of my emotions, and I couldn’t exactly turn around and leave.

“You okay?” Tegan asked, glancing toward the door when Johnny and Ky followed Charlie into the glass-enclosed conference room across the hall.

“Yeah. Fine,” I lied over the grapefruit lodged in my throat. “Let’s go.”

I tried to focus on the view like Gray would. But the Santa Monica office was closer to the 405 than the ocean, and the energetic man who greeted us with a winning smile and a round of firm handshakes was hard to ignore. Seb Rourke was a good-looking man. Moreover, he was charismatic, friendly, and brimming with Hollywood-style enthusiasm. In other words, I couldn’t tell if he was full of shit or if he really was excited at the prospect of signing an unknown entity. He shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and seemed perfectly sincere when he claimed he was happy to finally meet me.

“Take a seat. I’ll get you in and out quickly. I know everyone’s busy. I have to tell you, I loved the sample Charlie sent over. I’m sure you know I don’t really have anything to do with the soundtrack as a whole. I’m just an idea guy. But I like your vibe, and I think your sound complements the film well. Once you sign the contract, you’ll be working with our reps at the label to record. The sooner we get that ball rolling, the better. Go ahead and check out the contract. There should be one here for each of you and…two for you, Justin.” Seb flattened his large hand over the paperwork and slid it across the glass table toward me.

Again, he held eye contact, but I didn’t detect any animosity or negativity toward me at all. I did my best to push aside my angst and concentrate on business. This wasn’t personal. This was for Zero. I flipped the paperwork over and skimmed the legal BS. It covered copyright clauses and some info about distribution and commissions. We’d agreed on a flat fee. It was more than generous, and it would go a long way toward setting Zero up professionally. I listened with half an ear as Seb presented the official document and set a few pens on the table. Tegan signed and Johnny followed. He handed his pen to Ky and—

“This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked.

“This says we’re supposed to play and sing backup on ‘Karma.’ That’s a Gypsy Coma song. It’s not one of ours,” I said, pushing the contract away.

“Really? I thought it was yours. It’s the perfect song for Baxter. It’s got the perfect amount of tension and angst. I love it. I heard you sing it at Carmine’s a few months ago. Just wonderful,” Seb gushed.

I gave him my best “Are you for real?” look. “Yeah, it’s a good song. But Zero has better songs. We sent you a few—”

“Yeah, but that’s just not quite what we’re looking for,” Seb said cheerfully. “ ‘Karma’ is the winner.”

“I see. The verbiage here says ‘backup vocals.’ Who’s singing lead?” I asked, flashing an obnoxious fake smile at him.

“Xena. Maybe you can work it into a duet or—”

“I don’t think so.” I stood abruptly, then reached for the paper in front of me and ripped it in half. “I’m not signing anything. I’m done here.”

I heard my name in stereo as I flung the door open and headed for the elevator. I stabbed the button just as Seb rounded the corner.

“Justin. What are you doing?” he asked in a patient voice one might use on a wayward child or a mentally unstable person flitting too close to the ledge.

“I’m leaving. You don’t get your way on this one. I’m not helping Xena unless Zero benefits too. I was pretty clear about it. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about exposure. For all I know, it’ll be rigged to make me look like the asshole who fucked up a great relationship because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. That’s not how it happened. But something tells me you can relate to that story, can’t you, Seb?” I goaded.