"Even if you get past me, you won't get in," he said. "She's put a big lock on her door. Says she's sick of every bored rocker dropping in on her."
"She'll want to see me," I said.
"I'll check. I'll send her a text. You can wait at the bar."
I sneered at him, just to check that I still had it. He flinched. Yep, still got it.
"Tell her I'm here to discuss the marketing plan for my shows."
He got out his phone. "I can't serve you. We aren't open yet."
"Why was the door unlocked?"
He looked from me to the door then back to me. How did he think I'd gotten in? Then he ran over and locked the door. Good, I didn't want anyone else dropping in. I leaned on the bar and waited for him to make the call.
Violet would leave me cooling my heels at the bar for a while. I knew it. Typical girl trick. But I'd planned for that.
"I'm heading upstairs," I called out to the busboy. "Tell her I'll be up there."
Even though I'd played the stage, I wanted to know exactly what I was working with. I paced around, getting an idea of the dimensions and making notes. There wasn't much I could do about the décor but I'd do what I could. I didn't want people leaving thinking they'd seen a good band, I wanted them thinking they'd seen a great show. The kind of thing they'd tell all their friends about, rave about even. I wondered how pyrotechnics would go in here.
Violet must’ve slipped into the room while I made my notes. She sat on a stool at the bar, watching me.
I waved and walked over to her.
"So, marketing plan, that sounds pretty fancy..."
"You don't leave things to chance with something like this." I let my gaze linger on her, meeting her eyes and not pulling away.
"What sort of thing are you talking about?"
"Ads in the street press, interviews. I want to get a new single out and stuff lined up with radio stations, create buzz online. That kind of thing. And, of course, the normal posters and promos. Do you know a good designer? We need to get onto that straight away."
She thought for a moment, then grabbed my pen and wrote down some details. A couple of names.
"I have no idea of phone numbers or anything. This guy comes into the club a bit and a lot of bands work with him. The other guy has done some work for the club. I'll get his details off Chuck."
I grinned and thanked her. Then I got out my laptop and opened a spreadsheet. I had timelines planned out for each activity, building up to the competition night.
She grinned when she saw that.
"You are really taking this seriously," she said, looking up at me. Her eyes made me start for a moment. She could ruin a man with those eyes. "Shit, no one, and I mean no one, who plays here goes to this kind of effort. God, not even Chuck would think of planning out things like this. I might be a total dork but I love a well-planned out plan."
This crazy woman cared nothing for chocolates and flowers but went all gooey-eyed over a spreadsheet. I had to respect her for that.
"It is serious. I'm playing for the highest odds." My sweeping glance was intended to leave her with no room for doubt about what I meant. “If that means tweeting a hundred times a day and an aggressive social media plan, I’ll do it.”
"If you are happy to put in all that work, we'll do what we can to support you. It's to the club's advantage too. God, Alex, if the music thing never works out for you, you should consider opening your own club. You have this shit in the bag."
I grinned. There was so much I could say but I kept my mouth shut.
She grinned back.
/>
"So, how much modification can I do to the stage?" I asked.
She scrunched up her face in thought. "That's really up to Chuck. So long as you get things back to their original condition, he shouldn't mind. Probably won't even notice. Why? What do you have planned?"