Sick.
“And I don’t wanna end up like Roger,” Trey added, shaking his head.
I frowned. “What do you mean? What happened to Roger?”
“He used to do a lot of running too, coupla years ago.” Trey looked at me, tragedy written all over his face. “Then he messed up his feet. He stopped running. Stopped! Never went back to it. Went with the weight training instead.” He shuddered. “Man, I can’t even imagine.”
I stared at him, unable to come up with any sort of response that didn’t include the words Are you fucking kidding me?
“How have things changed since you signed with the label?” Ryan asked, saving me.
A pained expression flashed across his face. “I don’t know. I guess it’s not what any of us expected, y’know? I mean, it used to be tons of fun, and now there’s a bunch of pressure to earn back the money the label invested in us. And ... well, it’s not that great of a label, to be honest. We should have had a lot more distribution. So now we gotta think about making it big and getting noticed so that when our contract is up we can get signed with someone bigger. Plus, our concert schedule for the coming year is insane. But concerts are where we make money, not CD sales.”
Ryan and I exchanged a quick glance at the getting noticed. “Has anyone in the band been talking about ways to get noticed?” I asked.
“Well, yeah,” he said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “I mean we’re always trying out new ways to do promo and stuff. Lida busts her hump writing new songs, and doing appearances and interviews. And I put together the website. But Adam’s the one who’s doing most of the regular promo. He works his ass off, but I think he has a lot riding on us really breaking out.”
“Why is that?”
“Times have been tough, y’know? He owns the studio, but his business has been shit lately.” Trey’s gaze swept the room. “He’s been trying to sell it, but no one’s interested.”
Well, that confirmed what Roger had said.
The side door opened and we all looked over to see Lida coming back in without Michael.
“Is he okay?” Trey asked her with what sounded like genuine concern.
Lida nodded, frustration and fatigue flashing briefly over her face. “I figured it was better to let him sit outside for a bit instead of bringing him back and risk him getting all upset again.” She shot us a look of apology and I gave her a slight nod of understanding in response.
Trey stood. “You want me to go sit with him?” She gave him a grateful smile, but then he glanced back at us. “I mean, unless y’all need to talk to me some more.”
“No, we’re done,” I said. “I know how to get in touch with you if I need to talk to you again.” I handed him one of my cards. “And feel free to call if you think of anything that might be useful.”
He tucked the card into the front pocket of his shirt. “Will do. Thanks.” He moved to Lida and gave her a quick, sweet kiss, then strode to the door and left.
Lida let out a soft sigh that sounded like it was tinged with relief. “Trey is so good with Michael. Like his best friend and big brother all rolled into one.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry about having to take him outside,” she said. “Roger came by earlier and told us about his client, and unfortunately, Michael heard him. He’s so sensitive that he gets really upset whenever he hears bad news. It’s like he doesn’t have the perspective to know that it wasn’t someone he was close to.” Sadness flickered across her face.
“Could Michael ever live on his own?” Ryan queried gently.
“No way,” she said without any hesitation. “And I don’t want him to go to a group home or anything like that either. He’s my brother,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I can take care of him.” She sounded defensive.
“Has anyone suggested you do that?” Ryan asked.
Her defiant stance wilted slightly. “Adam suggested it once. As talented as Michael is, Adam worried that the stress of being in the band would be too much for him, especially with our current schedule. And Uncle Ben agreed with him, though he said Michael wouldn’t need to go to a home and said he’d hire someone to care for Michael at the house.” The frustration returned to her face. “I mean, I know they’re worried about me and think that I’m spreading myself too thin ...” She paused, then rolled her eyes. “Okay, my uncle is worried about me. I think Adam’s only worried that Michael will have a meltdown or something during a concert.” Anger flared in her eyes, but then she took a deep breath and seemed to push it down. “But I could never do that to him. It would kill Michael if he was taken out of the band. He loves it.”
“Follow your gut,” Ryan advised.
Lida gave him a firm nod. “Yeah, I intend to. Screw the rest of them.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Okay, I don’t need to be dumping on y’all. Sorry about that. You need to talk to me some more?”
“Yes, if you have the time and don’t mind,” I said. “Though we mostly came by because we need to speak to Adam.”
She frowned. “Adam’s been upstairs for hours, working, ever since he came back from his meeting with the label. It’s been a crazy day. It took over an hour to get Michael calmed down after Roger told us about Vic.” She stepped behind us and snagged a candy bar off the table. “Sorry, I’m starving. It’s probably a good thing Roger isn’t here. He’d make me do an extra half hour on the bike if he saw me eating this,” she said with a weak smile.
“He’s your trainer?”
“Well, he sets up workouts for me and gets on my ass about my eating, but he’s not officially my trainer or anything.”
“Have you ever used the gym at Vic Kerry’s office?”