Auburn: Outcasts and Underdogs

by Valerie Thomas

  Chapter 22

  The meeting on Wednesday didn’t end up happening. Not because we couldn’t make it or because the record label changed their minds; I just got a call from Diane on Tuesday asking to reschedule. No big deal, at least in my mind.

  I think it spooked Joey more than the rest of us. Charlie and I leaned on each other to stay calm, but Joey only had himself. And in all honesty, his mind couldn’t be the easiest place to be as it was. He got angry at some of our practices, especially when Will brought a couple friends to watch.

  That was probably one of the benefits of being friends—or whatever I was—with Will. He was popular enough that he brought an audience to our practices, which helped us practice performing. We decided that it wouldn’t work to play in front of other people every day, since that would stop us from trying new things, but on Wednesdays and Fridays there were always a couple kids watching. At first, I was worried that he might try to bring Maya, but either he knew better or Maya wasn’t interested.

  I didn’t tell Mom about what was going on, mostly because there wasn’t a good opportunity. She was at work even more than when we’d lived in the apartment, and when she wasn’t we had to have ‘family time’ with Kent. He saw one of the boxes of Auburn shirts one time and asked me what was in it, but I just shrugged; any explanation I could have given would have taken way too long, and he probably wasn’t that interested anyway.

  With our relationship sort of fixed, Charlie and I started going out on dates again. It was almost like he’d gotten better at being in a relationship in the time we were apart. When we kissed, he’d keep the contact longer, and he actually started bringing his hands into it. At first, he’d trace little patterns on my back, but one time he tried to explore a little more. That… Didn’t turn out well. I ended up giggling at the thought of him touching me, which he wasn’t too happy about.

  Three weeks after my conversation with Maya, Wednesday at four twenty found us standing outside the Almond Records office. Joey had driven; he was still the only one of us with a license or car, although Charlie and I were close to getting our provisionals.

  The building was anything but lackluster, with a black tile pathway leading to a round courtyard. In the courtyard, ringed on all sides by tall bushes, a bronze statue of an oversized acorn rose into a full tree. Given the typical heat of the LA sun, I had to question their design choices, but it certainly looked spectacular.

  “Think we should tell them that acorns and almonds are totally different?” Charlie whispered as we walked. We’d worn semi-professional attire for the meeting; he and Joey were in matching dark polos, and I’d donned a blue-and-white polka-dotted dress bought specifically for the occasion.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But let’s make sure we get the deal first.”

  The glass doors looked in on two different reception desks, half ovals on either side of a long hallway. Joey was in the lead, so he pulled the door open for Charlie and me.

  As soon as I stepped inside, I felt a cool breeze hit my face. I breathed in deeply as I took in the situation. I expected to have to ask the receptionist to direct us to Diane, so I walked up to the closest one. “Hi, we’re Auburn. We have a meeting at four thirty. With… Um, Diane Furman?”

  The receptionist looked up at me, frowning as if she couldn’t make sense of what I’d just said. “Diane? Oh, you must mean Barry. Diane just booked the appointment for you. She doesn’t sign artists. Okay, down the hall to the very end, take a right, and then it’ll be the third door on your left.”

  I hesitated. “Are you sure?” It seemed stupid to contradict her, but I knew that Diane was the one who wanted to sign us. She’d said so.

  Fortunately, the receptionist seemed to accept it with good humor. “Yeah, I’m sure. Diane Furman is Barry’s secretary. End of the hall, right, left.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.” My heart sank; something wasn’t right, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. My hand found Charlie’s as we started down the hall.

  The colors inside Almond Records weren’t very exciting: gray squares extending from a gray wall in a grid pattern. The only time the pattern was broken was when we passed one of the white doors or an occasional painting.

  The doors were labeled, so I knew we had the right one when we found Barry’s office. Barry Saunders, VP of Artists and Repertoire, it read. I pushed the door open and took the plunge.

  The first thing I noticed was a short wooden desk, not the woman behind it. When my eyes came up to look at her, I recognized the face from our second try-out at Cat’s Cradle. It was the woman who’d been nodding along. She had the same brown hair with the faintest curl, and her heart-shaped face looked unique, in part because of the small nose in the center. I gasped in recognition. “Hey!”

  She smiled at the reaction. “Hey, Ashley. You’re right on time. And you brought the whole band! Perfect!”

  “Yeah, perfect,” Joey said. At least his sarcasm was hard to recognize; I’d known him for two years, and I still had a hard time noticing it.

  “Okay, so you’re going to be meeting with Barry. He’s really nice, and he makes all the final decisions regarding artists.” She turned to a space that was separated from the rest of the room by a half-wall and leaned over it. “Barry, Auburn’s here. Should I send them in?”

  His response must have been non-verbal, because Diane turned back and waved us in without a word from Barry. I squeezed through a gap in the half-wall—god knows how overweight artists got through—and smiled at the man to my right.

  Barry Saunders was entirely bald, with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and thin lines near the corners of his mouth that made it look like he was accustomed to scowling. It took me a moment to realize that he, in fact, looked very young for someone who held power over our entire future. Somewhere in his thirties, most likely.

  He was sitting in a comfy-looking recliner with a laptop in front of him. When I entered, he looked up at me and nodded a greeting before returning his attention to the computer. The only other available seating was a white leather couch on the other side of the small room, so I took a seat in the middle. Charlie and Joey sat on either side of me while we waited for Barry to talk.

  Once it was clear we were settled, he looked up again. “Diane, could you join us?”

  She came wheeling in on her office chair; it was almost comical, since it didn’t roll well on the shaggy carpet. She gave up at the gap between half-walls. “Yes, Barry?”

  “Would you explain the situation to them?” He started typing something on his computer. I didn’t have much experience with professional meetings, but it seemed as if he was being exceptionally rude.

  Diane winced. “Yes, of course. Well… Okay, I don’t technically have the authority to sign or scout new talent. I’m very sorry about that, but—“

  “You’ve gotta be...!” Joey started. I threw out a hand and clasped his wrist tightly, squeezing so hard I was afraid I might draw blood. He got the message and shut his mouth, but he didn’t wipe the betrayed look off his face.

  “But…” Diane cleared her throat. “Barry listened to your CD, and he agrees that you have talent. The only reason we’re hesitating to sign you is that we couldn’t find much record of live performances. You understand why that would give us some pause, right?”

  Her eyes were on me, so I responded for all of us. “Yeah. But we’ve performed at school, and you know about the one at Cat’s Cradle. And we’ve been practicing in front of people more and more often.”

  “That list’s razor-thin, and you know it,” Barry said. His eyes didn’t leave the laptop screen. “Diane, you have to be honest with your artists if you want to be an agent. Now, how do you think you should proceed?”

  It was strange, having him address me and yet not address me. Diane seemed to feel the same way; she rolled her eyes so imperceptibly that I barely caught it. “I think we should help them get experience. You guys are fine with playing more shows, right?”

  “Of course!”
I blurted out. Even if we didn’t get signed, I couldn’t see more shows as a bad thing in any situation.

  “Alright, then.” She turned back to Barry. “I’ll book them on my own time. Maybe at the Live Lounge?”

  “Not the Live Lounge.” Barry’s scowl was annoying, but I was already expecting it. He struck me as kind of a jerk… The kind I’d very much like to slap. His deliberate nonchalance made me feel worthless, and I didn’t like it. “Everyone knows the Live Lounge is ours. I don’t want the band connected to Almond until they’re ready for a deal.”

  Diane grimaced; I sincerely hoped the Live Lounge hadn’t been her only idea. “Okay, um… I’ll find other venues. How about we give you guys three months to build up more experience—during which I’ll book your gigs—and then we’ll revisit the idea of signing a deal?”

  At least Barry didn’t have any snide comment to add. I nearly sighed in relief, until I heard Joey start to talk to my left. “Actually, I think we’re done here. We don’t sign deals with assholes.” He glared at Barry.

  For the first time, Barry looked up from his computer. He let out an obviously fake laugh. “This is why I hate dealing with kids. No filter. No professionalism. Well, young man, this asshole has the power to kick you out of his office.”

  For several tense moments, they exchanged murderous looks. Joey’s nose twitched; I grabbed his wrist to remind him to be calm, but it didn’t work.

  “Luckily for you, I like artists with a little spunk.” Barry’s laugh was more sincere; when he finished, the angry look wasn’t gone, but it was greatly diminished. “Give ‘em three months, Diane. No Live Lounge, and don’t throw our name around when you’re calling. Say you’re just an up-and-coming talent agent. Do you already have their provisional contract ready?”

  “Yes, right here.” Diane reached back to grab something from her desk. She wheeled her chair over to us and set a thick packet in front of Charlie. “Okay, this is your provisional contract. It basically states that you won’t make any deals with other record companies while we’re promoting you. And further down…”

  She flipped past several pages; I could feel Joey’s hot breath on my neck as he leaned over me to see. “Right here, it gives Almond Records an exclusive option to sign you at the end of the three month period. And the rest is just typical contract stuff. Let’s see, is there anything else I need to cover?” She looked back at Barry.

  “You might want to remind them that this does not mean they are Almond Records artists, nor are they allowed to hold themselves out as such.” He pointed toward the packet. “Bottom of page eight.”

  “Yup, page eight,” Diane said. “All that means is that you can’t go around claiming Almond Records has signed you, or using our name in connection with your band. Not yet, at least. I’ll give each of you a copy of the contract. You need to sign it, and unless you’re at least eighteen we’re going to require the signature of a parent or guardian. Does that sound good?”

  This time, it was Charlie who answered. “Sounds awesome!” I could tell he was sold.

  Heck, maybe I was too. As we awkwardly rose and made our single-file way out of the office, I couldn’t help the giddy smile that kept coming to my face. All we had to do was play a few shows, and then we’d get a contract and become successful musicians.

  Joey was quiet until we were out into the black asphalt parking lot. He jumped high into the air and gave a loud whoop. “Guys, we just got signed! For real!”

  I frowned at him. “No, we aren’t. I mean, not yet. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but that was just them covering themselves. Trust me, three months from now we’ll be with Almond Records.”

  “I hope so,” I said as we turned right, along the row of cars where Joey had parked. “Um, I think Barry was right though. You almost cost us everything.”

  Charlie nodded emphatically. “Yeah, seriously. I think he was really considering throwing us out.”

  “So what if he was?” Joey stopped walking. “Guys, I spoke my mind. I always do. I can’t help it.” There was a subtext that I almost didn’t catch; in a way, it sounded like he was asking us if we were still okay with that.

  He was an outcast, and I couldn’t blame him for that. I hugged him from the side. “That’s okay. We love that about you.”