“No, but—”
“He had a little success in the beginning, but now he’s asking for too much money, and no one is biting. Ask him about it if you don’t believe me.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“You might want to rethink that. I can help you.”
“We’ve tried that before, Xena. It didn’t work, so no thanks.”
“One gig, Dec. Just one.”
“Look, I couldn’t do it if I wanted to. We’re down a drummer.” I explained Cade’s recent injury as I locked up and made my way to the parking lot. “Anyway, thanks for thinking of me but—”
“My drummer will cover for you. Not a problem. I’ll text you his contact info later.”
“Xena…”
“Don’t thank me. I’ll talk to you later. And give me the date of your mom’s black-tie party when you get a chance. I’ll make sure to put it in my calendar. Bye, Dec!”
Ugh. Fuck.
Turned out, you had to wake up very fucking early to beat the crowd at Scratch Records.
“Good morning! You’re here early and I’m so glad to see you,” Charlie chirped.
“Hey, Char. Hang on. I need…coffee.” I pointed longingly in the general direction of the kitchen when he pulled my sleeve and drew me toward his office.
“Oh, honey, me too. And I’ve already had three cups this morning. Sit.” He pointed at the black leather chair in front of his desk, then closed the door.
I obeyed because I was too tired and under-caffeinated to think for myself yet. And though I wasn’t exactly sure what time it was, I knew it was too early for Charlie to be here. He and Ky lived in Venice. They usually waited for traffic to clear before venturing to West Hollywood.
“What’s up?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
He perched on the seat next to mine, plucking at an imaginary piece of lint on his perfectly pressed khakis and sighed theatrically. “I’m in trouble.”
“Uh…excuse me?”
“Justin called me last night. Apparently, he ran into Tegan in the studio and heard about our idea and…didn’t like it. Not the idea itself, but the fact that we didn’t clear it with Zero first. I suppose he’s right, which irks me to no end. I should have called a meeting of the bands. But I was busy, and you were desperate and…according to my boyfriend, I have a bad habit of doing what I want and asking for forgiveness after the fact. It’s true. I’m terrible.”
“Oh.” I cocked my head, unsure how to respond.
“I apologized to Justin, but it looks like we’ll need to have an official powwow to clear the air.”
“Okay. Sounds reasonable. We were going to start at nine. Can we meet first? I don’t know who’s here yet, but—”
“Everyone’s here.”
“Everyone?”
“Well, except Tegan.”
“How is that possible? I’m early.”
“Justin was earlier. He texted Johnny after he chewed me out. I texted you and your guys last night. So…” He rubbed his hands and shot from his chair. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
I grabbed his elbow before he got anywhere. “Hold up. I never got a message from you, and shouldn’t we wait for T?”
“Nope. I have a nine a.m. conference call with a distributor, so now is better than later. Tegan’s in Long Beach anyway. Since we already know he’s okay with it, there’s no reason we can’t do this without him.” He shook off my grasp and pulled his cell from his pocket. “By the way, I texted you at midnight. Confirmed on my end. Check your messages, rock star. Come on.”
I let out a low grumble and checked my phone. Sure enough, I had missed texts from Charlie and a new one from Xena. I shoved my cell into my pocket without reading it. Note to self…never leave the house until fully caffeinated.
I bypassed the fishbowl conference room and headed straight for the kitchen. I pressed all the appropriate buttons, then reached for a mug on the open shelf above the coffee machine and slid it under the spout before gazing through the wide door leading to the main office area.
Scratch Records was damn nice. Not how I envisioned HQ for a label who handled two gritty rock bands and aspired to sign on more. I wouldn’t have been offended or surprised by a grungy, psychedelic garage vibe, but the designer-esque decor clashed with that notion. Big-time.
Our office was super clean and shiny. Glass, steel, and black leather accents offset the white walls. Every surface gleamed and sparkled, reminding me of a high-end accounting office or a law firm. You know, places that required appointments to talk about things you didn’t want to talk about. Only the whimsical chandelier shaped like an oversized record hanging over the reception desk and the concert photos in the lobby hinted that the space was home to a record label on the rise. We hoped.
I sipped my coffee, then took a deep breath and headed to meet Charlie and the guys in the conference room.