I slapped my palm over the strings of my guitar and glanced up at Charlie from my perch on the sofa, hoping he had a great idea up his designer sleeve. I was fucking tapped out.
“What’s up, Char? Did you see Cade?”
Charlie peeled himself from the doorjamb, letting the door swing shut behind him before sauntering into the room. I took a moment to appreciate his colorful ensemble. No one got away with mixed patterns and bright hues like Charlie. Today he wore snug-fit burnt-orange khakis rolled at the hem with a floral oxford shirt and a black-and-white houndstooth jacket. And yeah, he looked cool, hip, and confident. Not exactly like your typical rock band manager, but hey…I didn’t care about that. I just needed someone to steer us around this iceberg, so I could concentrate on the music.
“Yes, I saw Cade, and no, it doesn’t look good. One broken wrist would have been bad enough—two is stupendous bad luck. He won’t be back until January at the earliest.”
“He’ll be rusty. Will he be able to tour with us?” Gill asked.
“Probably not. We’ll have to get someone to cover for him. And I need a drummer for this song if it’s going to make the final cut.” I swiped my hand over my chin thoughtfully. “How soon do you think we can find a replacement?”
“A week. Maybe less. I’ll ask Gray for help.”
“We’ll have to scrap the song,” I sighed.
Charlie held up a single digit. “Not necessarily. I have an idea. It’s a long shot and may require some serious groveling, which I’m selflessly willing to do on your behalf. I just need your blessing.”
“What is it?” I asked warily.
Charlie gave me a sheepish half smile, then paced in front of the sofa before making a quick trip around Gill’s stool. His hesitation made me nervous. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like his suggestion.
“We need to ask Zero, specifically Tegan…for help,” he blurted, pointing at the wall leading to the studio next door.
Yep, I was right. I hated it.
“Sounds reasonable,” Gill commented with a careless shrug.
“Agreed.” Bobby J nodded, casting a sideways look my way. “What d’ya think, Dec?”
I twisted my mouth in a wry, humorless almost-smile and shook my head. “He won’t do it.”
“I bet I can talk him into it,” Charlie said, setting his hands on his hips.
“No offense, Char, but you don’t have the magical, mystical superpowers required to get Tegan to lighten the fuck up,” I huffed.
Charlie’s blues lit up. “Oh, I love a challenge. Accepted! I’ll run it by Zero after practice today and if T has time tomorrow, maybe he can record your secret-sauce song, then. The logistics might be a tad arduous, but it should only take a day or two and—”
“Hey, I didn’t say he couldn’t do it. I said he won’t do it,” I corrected.
Bobby J narrowed his eyes as he shifted on the other end of the sofa to face me. “Why not?”
“He hates me.”
“But why?”
“Long story.”
He let out a half snort. “Must be a damn good one.”
It was a great story, actually. But we weren’t talking about it now.
I held Bobby J’s gaze, wordlessly asking him to leave it the fuck alone and stick to our unspoken deal to keep the peace with Zero at all costs. Gill watched the exchange but kept quiet while Charlie paced from one corner of the area rug to the other.
Charlie stopped suddenly. “Sadly, I don’t have any better ideas. We’re strapped for cash and time.”
I scoffed. “By all means, go for it. But please record T’s response. No doubt it will be entertaining.”
Charlie stomped his feet like a kid revving up for an epic tantrum, then threw his hands in the air. “I’m in dire need of positive thinking, boys. Dire. Everyone gives you a million reasons why this won’t work and that can’t happen and I’m just—fed up to my eyeballs with negativity. I need someone besides my boyfriend to tell me ‘Yes, Char, you can have whatever you want!’ ”
Bobby J scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Mmm, I need to get me one of those.”
“I highly recommend it,” Charlie enthused. “I just wish I knew how to work the same voodoo on distributors, creditors, and critics. I can’t offer sexual favors and shockingly, they don’t quake with fear when they see me coming. I have to do things the old-fashioned way. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be nice but tough, charming but fierce? I’m worn out!”
I propped Stella against the sofa and stood. “I’ll do it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. And I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” Charlie moved to the door and spun around theatrically. “In the meantime, break a leg. But do not, under any circumstances, break a wrist.”
My bandmates chuckled before picking up where we left off. It was tempting to sit back and join in, but something made me go after him.