Grinning and pointing at his friend, Andrew returns. “This is the man! No one better to work with. Not just in L.A. but the entire world! Mark Cutter, these are the dudes I told you about. Chaser’s a musical wizard. That piece I brought you? This is the genius who helped me arrange it.”
Am I having a stroke?
It has to be well over a hundred degrees back here.
Maybe I’m hallucinating.
Am I finally meeting Mark Cutter?
I tune back into the introductions while Andrew’s praising Alvin’s skin-bashing abilities as, “The best drummer since me.”
“And Mallory’s the coolest chick around,” he finishes.
“Hi, Mr. Cutter,” Mallory leans forward to shake his hand, filling the gap since Alvin and I both seem to have lost control of our manners and motor functions.
“Mr. Cutter, it’s an honor to meet you.” I finally pull my head out of my ass and shake the man’s hand. Alvin does the same, then gives me a subtle elbow bump.
“Andrew insisted I get my ass down here to see Kickstart live.” In a lower voice, he adds, “he mentioned you might be looking for someone to produce your next record?”
“Y-Yes,” Alvin stutters. “Yes, sir. We are.”
“Where’s Jacob?” Andrew asks. “And Garrett?”
“Jacob’s doing his vocal warm-ups. Not sure where Garrett disappeared to.”
“Getting head?” Andrew asks with a straight face. “That always calms me down before a big show.”
Mark side-eyes him, and Andrew shrugs. “What? It does.”
If this man has put up with Andrew’s tornado of crazy for so many years, producing Kickstart will be a warm, gentle breeze.
“Vinnie’s here too somewhere,” Andrew says, searching the area behind him again.
Great, more people to watch me choke tonight.
“I need to speak to Jared,” Mark says, excusing himself. “Looking forward to sitting down with you, Chaser, Alvin.” He nods to both of us. “Nice to meet you, Mallory.”
He rests a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and pulls him closer, saying a few things against his ear before walking away.
Andrew turns to us, thrusts his hips forward and gives us two thumbs up. “Mark’s the best. I mean, he’ll totally papa bear you in the studio. And you can’t get away with any shit under his watch. But he’ll also squeeze out your best work.”
“Thank you.”
He slaps me on the back. “No problem.”
Mallory’s completely giddy and wide-eyed, but she waits until Andrew stalks off in search of the bar, before grabbing my arm and bouncing up and down. “Oh. My. God,” she mouths. “Are you excited?” She stops her little happy dance and her mouth pulls down. “Is Valerie going to freak?”
I exchange a glance with Alvin. Val has been frustrated with her inability to get to Cutter. Figuring nothing would come of it, I hadn’t shared with her that I’d asked Andrew for the introduction.
“Maybe.”
“Nah, she knows how it is.” Alvin doesn’t seem as convinced as he’s trying to sound. “She’ll be happy if we finally get our asses in the studio.”
I hope he’s right.
Chapter Twenty
Chaser
This isn’t our finest performance.
I doubt anyone else notices, but as usual, I can’t help picking apart every single detail.
“Anyone want to hear something new we’ve been working on?” Jacob shouts into his microphone. Most of his banter tonight has been short and sounded more rehearsed than his usual, easy flowing style.
The crowd responds with a bellowing, “yes!”
My earlier solo had been brief and mechanical. It’s time to redeem myself.
I turn to watch Alvin count off the opening beats to “Queen of the Road.” He executes a signature twirl of his drumstick, but this time, instead of crashing against his cymbal, the stick sails across the stage, thwacking into the back of Garrett’s head.
He turns and scowls at Alvin.
“Fuck, sorry!” Alvin shouts without missing a beat.
One of the roadies races out and grabs the stick, quickly tossing it into the crowd where a bunch of eager fans dive after it.
When we launch into the chorus, the crowd actually sings along. Something none of us expected since we’ve never played it live before.
I glance over at Mallory. Hands clasped under her chin, she’s watching with tears in her eyes and mouths, “I love you.”
This solo comes from somewhere else. Like some cosmic force is using my fingers to play each note.
The screams from the audience for more thunder against the stage.
People start chanting, “Candy Jar!” at us, and for the first time since the Bloody Revolver tour, I’m actually eager to play it.
Not even Andrew standing behind my girl and watching her smile up at him sours my mood. Although, I briefly wonder how much Julius will charge me to fix my guitar if I slam it into Andrew’s face a couple dozen times.
A wave of people rush the stage, pushing the metal barrier a few feet. Security works to push them back, but one girl manages to break free and scampers onto the stage to hug Jacob and scream, “I love you!” in his face.