Auburn: Outcasts and Underdogs

by Valerie Thomas

  Chapter 20

  By the end of the next week, the Loser McGee page went down for good; either Principal Wroth was making some headway on the Jessica front, or my speech had been more effective than it seemed. In a way, that ended up making things harder. I couldn’t stop thinking about how great life would be if I could just fix things with Charlie.

  Then Queen Anne’s Subtle Overdose released a surprise album, Revenge in the Overdose.

  I stepped into Cat’s Cradle, shivering against the cold and rain assaulting outside. The brown floor mat inside the door was drenched, squelching as I shifted on it.

  “Hello,” the old man said, smiling like he’d been expecting me. Perhaps because of the weather, there was only one other person in the store.

  I smiled back at him. “Hey. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Really good. Actually, I was wondering when you’d make it back in here.”

  “You were?” I asked; it sounded like the old man thought he was some sort of oracle, predicting my return before I’d even planned it.

  He nodded before reaching under the register for something I couldn’t see. “Yes, I was,” he said as he searched. “I’m sorry to say that I didn’t get a phone number from you, so I couldn’t get a hold of you or your bandmates. But…” When he came up, he was holding a small pile of fifty dollar bills. “I kept your CDs on the floor. My normal cut is about sixty percent, but for you guys I’m only taking ten. Which means…” He flipped through the money. “Fifty, one hundred, one-fifty, two, two-fifty—“

  “Whoa, hold up.” I could feel my eyes go wide at the obscene amount. “How much did we make?”

  The old man’s smile turned into a broad grin. “Five hundred, thirty-two dollars and sixty-two cents.”

  My brow drew down as I looked at the bills fanned across his counter. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but that was quite literally the most money I’d ever seen in my life. “Five hundred dollars?” I repeated as he counted out the sixty-two cents; the pennies made a scraping sound against the bottom of the register drawer.

  “Yup, plus a little extra. Someone bought every copy I had. Go on, ask me who.”

  “Who?” I blurted out, before he could even finish talking.

  The old man flipped over a business card and laid it on top of the money. “A record label representative who wanted to get your band’s attention. She said she was in here the second time you tried out for me, and if I didn’t send you her way she’d personally force me out of business.”

  “Oh. My god.” There are so many ways I could describe how I was feeling. My heart was fluttering, my hands were shaking, my eyes watered over. I jumped over the counter and gave the old man a strangling hug.

  “Oof, not so tight,” he said, laughing at my enthusiasm. “I rather like being in business, so please do me a favor and call that number. And don’t forget me when you sign your record deal.”

  “Of course I will! Call her, I mean.” I released the old man, hardly able to contain my emotions. “And I’ll never forget you. How could I? You were the one who told us what we needed to work on. I thought you were such a big jerk.” It was easy to laugh at; heck, there were five hundred reasons to laugh at it, just sitting on the counter. “You have no idea what this means to me. To us.”

  The old man shook his head. “Honestly, I think I do. I’m just happy I had some small part to play. Now grab this money before I decide I want a bigger cut.”

  “Yes sir.” Yes sir. I didn’t have to be told twice; all thoughts of the new Queen Anne’s CD forgotten, I shoved the money into a jean pocket and reached for the business card. Diane Furman, it said in a utilitarian black font, Almond Records, Artists and Repertoire Division.

  Underneath was a phone number. I looked outside, feeling as if the driving rain couldn’t stop me.

  Thankfully, the old man had a better idea. “The back’s unlocked, if you want to make your phone call in there. Aren’t anything but boxes to listen in.”

  That seemed like a much better option. I didn’t know if calling in the middle of a rainstorm would be unprofessional, or if she’d even be able to hear the rain through the phone, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. With one last smile for the old man, I turned and walked along the rows of record-filled cases. Just like he’d said, the metal door leading into the back room was open; I just had to turn the handle.

  My hands were wet, and their shaking made it hard to dial the number correctly. Once I’d double- and triple-checked it, I pressed the call button.

  “Hello,” a cheery voice answered. “This is Almond Records. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Um, yeah…” I shook my head, trying to clear away the cobwebs brought on by my thrilling emotions. “My name’s Ashley Nimzovitch. I’m the singer for Auburn…”

  “Oh, Auburn! You know, I have a desk covered in your CDs right now. How are you doing today?”

  I found a sturdy-looking cardboard box to sit on, filled with posters of some kind. “I’m doing really well. I mean, it’s a little rainy, but other than that…”

  “Mhm, I know what you mean. Rain can be gloomy.” I could tell she was just humoring me, but I didn’t say anything about it. “But anyway,” Diane continued, “I’m so glad you called! See, I saw you perform in that store a while back, and—look, I’ve heard hundreds of bands audition before, but you have something none of them did. I told my boss that we had to sign you.”

  “Oh, what do we have?” I couldn’t help asking.

  There was a moment of silence on the line, during which I wondered if I’d crossed over some invisible boundary. “I guess I’d summarize it by saying that you have a heart,” Diane said, “A beating heart. When I listened to your CD—you’re going to need more songs, by the way, to fill a real CD—I could tell that every song was written with real emotion. A lot of new bands try for that, but they haven’t experienced enough to really succeed. Whoever wrote those songs… I think they’ve experienced enough. I think your message will resonate with a lot of people.”

  Resonate with a lot of people, I mentally repeated. “So, um, what does that mean? Are you gonna sign us?”

  “Hmm… Not exactly. To be honest, I’ve been waiting for your call before I made a real move. But now that you’ve called me, I’ll send your CD up the chain and see what they say.”

  That deflated me; not entirely, but noticeably. Our big break hadn’t come yet.

  Diane seemed to notice my silence. “Ashley, please understand that purchasing all of your CDs was a drastic step. Not normal in any way. I’m on your side in this. I believe in you, more than I can express over the phone.”

  “Thank you.” It was hard to decide whether she meant it or whether she was humoring me again.

  “You’re certainly welcome. Okay, just let me check my boss’ schedule and set up a meeting. School’s still in session right now, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alright, so nothing before… When does your school let out?”

  “Two o’clock,” I answered, “But we could totally skip out if you need us to.”

  She laughed into the receiver. “No, that’ll be fine. I appreciate the dedication, though. Okay Ashley, I’m setting up an appointment for Auburn next Wednesday at four thirty. Do you think you can make it?”

  I was so anxious to be signed that if she’d asked me whether I could attend a one a.m. meeting on the moon I still would have said yes. “Yeah, of course!”

  The rest was just the usual appointment stuff. Do you know how to get here? I said yes, figuring I could find out. Do you have a parent or someone else able to drive you? As tempting as it was to say no just to see how she’d respond, I said yes again. And again and again, until she’d exhausted her questions about any intervening difficulties that could possibly stop me from being at that meeting.