“You look just like your dad. Plus, I’ve seen you on a few morning talk shows playing the drums. You’re really talented.”
Mason’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced down at his lap momentarily, his smile never wavering. “Thanks. It’s no big deal. I was just having fun. Doing what I love.” The kid’s fingers tapped rhythmically on his knee. “Who are you?”
“I’m Brett. One of the roadies. I’m friends with your Aunt Kira.”
Mason’s face lit up with recognition. “Oh, yeah. I heard her talking to my Mom about you.”
Brett saw this as the perfect opportunity to find out a little information and offered the kid a friendly smile. “So, what did your aunt say about me? Something good, I hope.”
A jovial laugh floated out of Mason’s mouth as he shook his head. “You’re not gonna get me to blab. I’m no snitch.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Brett tried to give the magazine back to Mason, but the kid waved his hand.
“Nah. You can hang onto it. Are you a drummer too?”
“I can play a little of everything. It’s part of the job. Sometimes I tune the instruments”.
A little blond-haired boy came running into the room at top speed and slid to a stop, interrupting their conversation. “There you are, Mase. I want to show you how good I can play Master of Puppets. I’ve been practicing.”
Mason leaned forward to address the younger boy. “You played great yesterday. Like a champ. You don’t need to push yourself so hard, Lucas.”
“I thought I could do better,” Lucas answered, with seriousness way beyond his years.
This kid was freaking adorable.
Brett watched the two boys head toward the stairs that led to the second floor. Mason rested a hand across Lucas’ shoulder as they strolled through the bus, just like an older brother would do to his younger sibling. Although there was a drastic age difference in the two, they somehow seemed to communicate on the same level. Their love of music obviously breached the age gap.
“Hi, boys.” Kira ruffled Lucas’ hair as she passed the duo. “Where are you going? Sit with me and Brett. We can watch TV.”
“I have to work on a song,” Lucas explained.
“Oh.” She tried to sound serious but smiled as she made eye contact with Mason. “You boys better get to work then.”
“Maybe later, Aunt Kira,” Mason replied, as the two boys disappeared up the stairs.
“You’re out here by yourself?” Kira asked, sitting next to Brett.
“Yeah. It’s OK. I was talking to Mason. He’s a great kid.”
“He is,” she said, affection coating her voice like honey. “My sister is so lucky to have him.”
“And then that little guy came running into the room like his pants were on fire.” Brett chuckled at the memory. “Turns out, he just wanted to play Mason a song on his guitar.”
“Let me guess. Metallica?”
“Yeah. They seem really close, even though there’s such a big age difference.”
“I know. Right? It’s the music,” Kira explained. “I feel bad that Mason is an only child. I keep telling my sister and Jimmy to give him a little brother or sister, but. . .” She raised her hands toward the ceiling. “No go, I guess. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”
The question surprised Brett, and he had to think about it. “When I was young, it was a real pain in the ass. I’m eight years older than Grant. He was cute when he was born, I guess, but then he took up all of my parents’ time. So I was a little jealous. When I was in high school, he was in grammar school. I didn’t want him tagging along with me and my friends. He always threw a tantrum and my parents always took his side. It annoyed the hell out of me.” Brett reflected on his recount of his childhood relationship with his brother. Bothered by the way it sounded, his mouth bowed into a deep frown with the realization that he wasn’t the best older brother. “I was a meanie.”
“Aw,” she said, giving him a side hug. “That’s normal when there’s a big age gap. It’s different now, though, right? You take care of him.”
“I do. I think when he started high school, I began to look out for him. That’s when I got protective. I wanted to make sure he didn’t hang out with the wrong crowd.”
“Like you?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t exactly a model student. I partied too much and stayed out too late. My friends were musicians.” He paused to think about the parallels in their lives. “I guess it’s like you with Immortal Angel, right?”
She nodded, and her face grew animated. “Me and Audra hung out in bars every weekend. Only we were still straight A students.”
“Well, excuse me, Miss Smarty-pants. I went to college too, you know.”
“No, I didn’t. What college and what was your major?”
“UCLA.” He hesitated in disclosing his major because he never finished college. He had big plans for his future but fell in love with touring with Bulletproof. “I majored in music production, but left UCLA before I got my degree.”
“Me too!”
“You never finished college?” he asked, shocked at the revelation.
“No, silly. I graduated from Columbia. I meant that I studied music production too. I majored in business but minored in music. I always knew I wanted to be hands on in the industry. Is that what you wanted to do too?”
“Yeah. At first, I wanted to be a music producer but got caught up with the glitz and the glam of touring. I made great money. I know I’ll always have steady work with Bulletproof, but I’m not committed. I freelance, so I always have options.” He realized that it didn’t provide a great example for his brother. He always stressed how important it was for Grant to graduate college and keep his grades up, but he was the one who dropped out. Enlightened by this conversation with Kira, he scrubbed his hand over his face and scratched at his beard.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look upset.”
“I am. I never realized before that I was a hypocrite. I’m on my brother’s ass all the time about college, but I dropped out.”
“You’re not a hypocrite, Brett. Your life just took a different path.”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
She rubbed his arm and leaned closer to him. “Don’t feel bad. You have an amazing job.”
He agreed with her statement, wholeheartedly, and nodded. “I know. I’m a roadie.”
Brett was used to hectic tours, but never expected a full bus, which included three kids, an older aunt, and a nanny, to be on the road with barely a stop in between shows. Immortal Angel performed tirelessly, and their tour was go-go-go, which meant Brett worked nonstop. His first day off came six days into the tour and landed on a Saturday.
Both Brett and Kira slept late, long after everyone else disembarked, and it was oddly quiet on the active tour bus. Maybe that’s why they didn’t roll out of bed until ten in the morning.
After checking into the hotel, they ordered room service and had lunch on the balcony. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” he asked Kira. This large group did almost everything together, so he wasn’t sure if they were on their own or there was something on the schedule.
Her shoulders fell. “I have to work tonight. I hope you don’t mind. There’s a band I’m scheduled to scout in Atlanta. I was hoping you’d come with me. We don’t have to stay all night.”
She said it as if he wouldn’t want to accompany her. As if it were something he wouldn’t be interested in. He loved live music just as much as she did, but he knew this was also her job. “I’d love to come with you. As long as I’m not in the way.”
“Of course not. The band I need to see is playing at a local bar. We could grab a bite beforehand and drop in to catch their set.”
“That’d be great.”
“I’d love for you to give me your take on them, as well. I don’t usually have someone with me to discuss it with. It’ll be nice to have a fellow music lover, someone who knows the industry, to give me input. I�
�d love to get your perception of the band.”
He was honored that she valued his opinion and respected his know-how when it came to music. Although he knew his grasp on the industry in no way compared to her expertise, he loved that she felt as if she could engage in an educated conversation with him about her craft.
Brett was surprised that Kira didn’t try to bypass the short line on the way into the bar and waited her turn, just like everyone else. He was even more surprised when she pulled out her wallet and tried to pay the cover charge for the both of them. He quickly stuffed some cash into the guy’s hand at the door and ushered Kira inside by her elbow.
“Why’d you do that?” she protested. “I didn’t bring you here so you could pay. You’re my guest.”
“I don’t care if technically you’re working tonight, babe. As far as I’m concerned, we’re on a date.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “And my girl doesn’t pay.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped and smiled. “Your girl?”
He rested his hands on her hips and rubbed her slender waist with his thumbs, then tugged her closer to him so their bodies touched. “Are you someone else’s girl?”
“No.”
“Then it’s settled. As long as we’re on this tour together, you’re my girl.”
She looked up to the ceiling, considering his statement. “Well, then, I guess that makes you my guy. While we’re on tour.”
He pulled her in for a hug and placed a kiss on top of her head. “Why didn’t you tell the guy at the door who you were? Any club or bar would be thrilled to have an A&R exec from Falcon Records walk through the door and be noted as the place where the next superstar rock band was discovered.”
She shook her head. “I want to pay the cover charge just like any other customer. I know I could easily take advantage of my status as an industry professional and get VIP treatment, but I prefer anonymity. I don’t like people to make a fuss just because of my name or because of who my father is. I never did.”
Her down-to-earth, easy demeanor continually amazed Brett. This girl had every amenity under the sun available to her, yet she chose to blend in with the crowd. He never met anyone like her. “So, where do you want to stay? Do you want to sit in the back by the bar or stand up front?”
She took his hand and led him toward the front of the stage but stayed against the side wall. Then she turned and surveyed the large group of people waiting for the band to go on. “I like to be able to see everything clearly. I want to see the band and people’s reaction to them,” she explained. “I start off here and then weave through the crowd.”
“I like your strategy.” He looked at the stage, which was really only a platform about two feet off the floor. The band was setting up their equipment. He wanted to watch, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Kira. She was studying the group of people surrounding the stage. Her head was cocked to the side, listening to something, and he couldn’t help tweaking the outer edge of her ear.
Her mouth spread into a playful smile, and she nudged his shoulder with her knuckle. “What are you doing?”
“What are you listening to?”
“I’m trying to hear what people are saying. I want to know if they’re excited about the band.” She tilted her head toward the crowd again. “Try it. Tell me what you hear.”
He was taller than most in the place, so he had an advantage and picked up several conversations right away. “That girl over there just said that they’re her favorite local band. She goes to all their shows.”
“I didn’t hear that.” A spark of excitement lit up Kira’s eyes. “I’m glad you came. You and I make a good team. What else do you hear?”
He listened to the voices around him and tried not to concentrate on the way Kira’s fingers sunk into the back waistband of his jeans as she slipped her arm around his waist. A conversation caught his attention, and he motioned to a guy several feet away. “That dude is trying to pick up that girl while her boyfriend is in the bathroom.”
She laughed, a fun and whimsical sound. “I don’t doubt it. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I hear. Once, a guy broke up with his girlfriend right before a band went on. I mean, literally right before. He pretended not to hear her when she was pleading with him. He just kept shaking his head. The poor girl finally burst into tears and ran out. I felt so bad for her.”
Before he had a chance to tell Kira that he thought the guy was a coward, the lights went down, and the band took the stage.
He listened to the first song, which was obviously a well-known track, as the onlookers bobbed their heads, some singing along to the lyrics. It was original music. The beat was catchy and made Brett want to tap his foot. The singer had personality and drew in the crowd.
Brett was about to tell Kira that they were good, when he noticed the way she was scrutinizing the band. Her gaze lingered on each band member, and she studied them with a furrowed brow. When the band transitioned into the second song, she jerked her head indicating that Brett should follow her through the crowd, which had thickened significantly.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Just moving around so I can get a better look at the band from all angles.”
She stopped when she was in the center of the room, about 20 feet in front of the stage, and watched the band, not as a spectator but as a professional. She didn’t rock her head or pound her fist in the air the way she did when she watched Immortal Angel. Every so often, her chin nodded slightly. It was just enough to indicate that she was enjoying the music, because her face was pensive, and her gaze was concentrated.
Her eyes shifted from band member to band member and then scanned the room and the people around her. When her gaze passed over Brett, she did a double take and then rested her eyes on him. A smile bloomed on her face, and she laced her fingers through his. “Sorry I’m not better company. I need to pay attention to the show and the feedback from the audience.”
He brought his lips to her ear, so he didn’t have to yell over the music. “I like watching you work. I’ve never seen this aspect of the music industry. It’s really interesting.” She was really interesting. She was a rich girl. A socialite. But she lived like a regular person. She worked hard, even though she didn’t have to. Whereas most people in her socio-economic circle wouldn’t give a working guy a second glance, she viewed him as her equal.
When the 60-minute set was over, Kira turned to Brett and asked his opinion. “You have a lot of experience in the music industry. What did you think of the band? What’s your impression of them?”
He was nothing short of flabbergasted. She’d been doing this her whole life. The business side of music was instilled in her by her family history. She went to an Ivy League college and got a degree. He had no expertise. All he did was listen and form an opinion strictly from his personal preference. “Personally, I like harder music. Bulletproof. Slipknot. System of a Down.”
“No. I meant, did they sound like they had their shit together, or did they sound like a bunch of amateurs?”
He hesitated, worried that his opinion might sway hers and possibly make or break a deal for the band.
“Don’t worry about your answer,” she assured. “Even superstars sounded like amateurs in the beginning. I’m just curious as to your thoughts.”
He mulled over his answer for a long time. “I think the biggest thing going for them is that they have a strong fan base. That’s obvious by the amount of people in this room. Musically, they’re talented. They each shine in their own right. Their timing could be better. The guitarist is great, but he’s a showoff. Drummer is awesome. Bassist is solid.” Brett hesitated before critiquing the singer but decided to be honest. “The singer has stage presence and connects with the audience, but his voice was off key in some spots.” Brett grimaced. “He messed up a lyric.”
She stared off to the side for a long time as she processed his statements. Her face was totally blank, a
lmost trancelike, before she snapped out of it. “I’m going to talk to them. Come with me.” She took his hand and weaved through the crowd until they were at a curtained area that led behind the stage. There was a guard there who blocked her path, but she didn’t flinch. Her business card was already in her hand, and she gave it to him as she introduced herself.
The bouncer flashed a light on the card as he read it, looked into her face without changing his expression, and then he nodded for her to pass. Brett followed her to an area where the guys from the band were packing up the equipment and loading everything into a van in the parking lot behind the place. There were a few extras helping them bring the gear outside, and it reminded Brett of when he was in high school and first started helping Bulletproof pack up their instruments and amps.
The singer noticed Kira right away and paused, unsure if she was a fan or why she was backstage. “I’m Kira Abelman. I’m with Falcon Records,” she said, handing him a business card just as she had done with the bouncer. Everyone within earshot stopped what they were doing and looked at her. The four band members immediately surrounded her, faces blank with shock.
“I caught the show, and I’m very impressed,” Kira stated. “Do you have a manager or an agent?”
“No,” the singer answered. “I pretty much book all the gigs and handle band stuff.”
“We may have a place for you at Falcon Records. Can you get me an EPK this week?”
Their eyes widened. Two of them had gaping jaws as if they couldn’t have just heard her correctly, and the other two wore smiles that looked as if their faces were going to split in half. Even Brett felt a surge of excitement. He was literally watching a band being discovered right in front of him. They could turn into the next mega sensation, and Brett would be able to say that he witnessed it happen firsthand. His heart was pumping so fast, he felt as if he were the one being offered a record contract.
“I can get you everything tomorrow,” the singer replied, once he was able to work his jaw again.
“Take your time,” Kira advised. “Make sure the demo is polished. Re-record something if you have to. Just make sure it showcases your best work. Have it to me next weekend, and we’ll talk.”
The Roadie: Radical Rock Stars Book 7 Page 8