by K E Osborn
“Ryan, ease up,” Danger berates, and Ryan snorts.
“When someone comes in saying they’re going to take over writing the band’s songs and that your job is being taken from you… you see how you react to it,” he basically spits out.
Danger, whose eyes are almost bulging out of his head, looks immediately to Oliver in question.
Oliver glares at Ryan. “No one is coming to write Recoil’s songs, Danger. Ryan’s just being an ass!”
Danger slumps his body and exhales. “Thank God,” he murmurs.
“But see, it doesn’t feel good does it?” Ryan almost yells.
Danger swallows, as do I. For the first time I feel really shit about my position here. But I want this band to succeed, and with the PR being run the way it was it definitely won’t.
Recoil needs me, as much as Ryan might disagree.
“Okay, I think we’re done here. Let’s all go home and come back refreshed tomorrow, yeah?” Oliver asks.
I nod, stand up and walk out as quickly as I can without looking back.
Making my way inside my quaint little one story modern villa, my chocolate colored Cavoodle, Piper, barks and jumps at my feet. Seeing her always makes any stress I have temper away. I lean down petting her wavy fur and smile.
“Hey girl, Mama missed you today.” I close the door heading into the living room and plonk myself down on the couch. Piper jumps up onto my lap, curling herself into a ball as I cuddle her. I look to the table and see the photo of me with my grandma. I can’t help but remember how I had to take care of her in her dying years not that long ago. It was so hard to watch her fade away, but because of that, it’s made me want to look after those who can’t look after themselves. I see that in Ryan and my need to help him—even though he’s seriously testing me—is outweighing the need to be angry at him.
I pull up in my car at the office and take a deep breath. Knowing Tillie is going to be here today is making life difficult, but I guess I need to toughen up if I’m going to get through today. Having the PR taken from me has been harder than I thought. I didn’t realize just how much I did for the band before those tasks weren’t there anymore. They kept me busy, engaged, organized, all the things that keep the dark thoughts away. Sure, it’s only been three days, but in that amount of time Tillie has taken over absolutely everything.
Today, I plan on checking out exactly what she’s doing with the band’s money. I want to ensure she’s doing everything I would be and doing it correctly. I need to assure myself that shit is being done right because it goes against the grain to be paying someone for something I could, quite simply, be doing myself. What a fucking waste of finances. I honestly don’t see why Oliver thinks we need a professional. The band’s success has been increasing steadily since we arrived back in the states, so I must be doing something right.
Sure she has training and a family background in PR and marketing, but I’ve been doing this for years and I know this industry as well as I know the back of my thumb. I know the people. I know music. That’s got to count for something, right?
I slide out of my car and tread up to the building. The halls look the same as always, bleak monotone gray lined with pictures of the band and our records. The carpet’s stain free and perfectly plush as the apricot color assaults my eyes every time. It’s really like an older style office building, turned rocker hangout, with only a few music paraphernalia items sprinkled here and there to show this place belongs to a band and its crew. Pictures of Oliver’s previous bands line the walls. I half smile knowing they’ve made it big and hopefully, that’s where we’re headed too. I glance at the picture of the four of us—me, Danger, Matt and Nate from when the band first started. We were a lot younger and it’s one of my favorite photos of us.
Times were simpler then, we had a dream, aspirations of making it huge, of being the world’s greatest… who knows if we’ll ever reach that status. I wonder if Tillie thinks we can as I make my way down to the boardroom. Oliver is busy in his office as I pass and is looking deeply at his computer screen, so I don’t bother to say hi or disturb him. I know the others will be here before me as I took a little longer to get in today. For some reason it seems to be harder to get up out of bed and then to feel semi-human the past three mornings. Since the doc’s health scare that is.
You’d have thought that scare would have made me more alert and more energized to keep pushing through, but things are starting to get on top of me—first my health then Tillie’s arrival—and I can’t seem to shake this funk I’m finding myself floundering around in. So I’m a little slower than normal, sue me.
Walking down past the open plan windows I see everyone in the boardroom sans Oliver. Taking a deep breath when I notice Tillie at the table—her hair in a messy top bun with a few whispers falling down around her oval face, a pen dangling from her plump shiny red lips—and she’s typing furiously on her notebook lost completely in what she’s doing. She looks one hundred percent nerd girl with her glasses rimming her face perfectly as she squints at the screen deep in focus. My cock twitches slightly at the look of the fucking geeky goddess and I screw up my face that he even reacts at all because, quite frankly, I hate her.
Walking into the boardroom they all look up at me at once. I half-smile, and Danger nods to me as Matt and Nate go back to their cells while Lunar winks at me casually. Tillie half-glances at me then goes back to her notebook.
“So glad you could make an appearance, fuck face,” Lunar chimes.
I roll my eyes and take a seat next to Tillie, it seems to be the only one left available… unfortunately. “Shut up, I slept in, it’s not like we had a meeting or anything.”
Lunar giggles, smirking while Danger fiddles with her pink hair. “So, Ryan, Tillie’s going over our marketing strategies and how we can improve them. She’s talking some big stuff,” Danger says.
Tillie casually glances up at me and half-smiles.
“Oh yeah, like what?” I ask in a sarcastic manner.
She pulls the pen from her lips, licking her bottom one slightly. My cock twitches again making my chest tighten in anger at how I’m reacting as Tillie rams the pen into the bun on top of her head.
“Okay… so from what I could tell from the tiny amount of bookkeeping and stuff that was on file—”
“Hey, I kept everything above board—”
She opens her eyes wide and tilts her head. “No, I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m just saying that from what I had to go on… not that what I had was bad, Ryan…” she tilts her head slightly, “… that your PR was done mainly in the indie scene—”
“Yeah, we’re an indie rock band. That’s how we like to be seen,” I say.
Tillie swallows hard with a sigh and raises her eyebrow. “Well, with my help I’m going to take you guys from the indie rock scene and into where you need to be.”
“We are where we need to be,” I say confused.
She furrows her brows and purses her lips. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong, Ryan, but you guys are a rock band. Rock bands are huge right now, and with a sound like yours… a sound I distinctly heard yesterday… you guys clearly need to be out of the indie rock scene and on an expanded platform.”
“We don’t need to change our platform, the indie rock scene is where we are. It’s where we’ve always been. It works fine for us,” I say knowing that this is where my PR skills have always taken us.
But the guys in the room shift uncomfortably in their seats like they all want to say something.
“Ryan, honestly… do you think your band is going to get bigger by just continuing to coast along on the indie rock scene? If you guys want to get on the big stage, and not as a backup band, but up there with the world’s popular rock bands, you need to get out of the PR hole you’ve put yourself in and go much larger. You need to think outside of the box you’re squarely locked into. You need to consider bigger, Ryan. Billboards, television, radio stations. And not just the small indie rock stations either, yo
u need to be played on the large commercial stations… the ones that can skyrocket your careers… if you want to be famous in America. Also, we need to consider subtle advertising like in railway stations and on trains, social media etcetera. You name it, we need to have Recoil’s brand everywhere, not just small time indie.”
I scoff and shake my head. “We don’t have the funds for that!”
She tilts her head. “You do. And if you want to make it in this industry you have to spend the money to make it big. You know the old saying ‘you have to spend money to make money?’ This couldn’t be truer for your PR expenses.”
I shake my head rapidly from side to side and furrow my brows looking around at everyone else who already seem convinced. “This is bullshit! This is not who we are. We’re not that desperate for attention!”
Danger sits up taller and sighs. “It’s not desperate, Ryan, but this is what we all want. The band wants to be big. Remember the dream we had? You and me, our names up in lights in Times Square?”
I stand up and start to pace the floor remembering that exact conversation, we had it the night we took that photo on the wall out in the hall. But that’s different, we were just starting the band out and I had no idea we could actually make it.
“Next you’ll be telling me you want us to headline with some fucking crazy band, and to do a duet or some shit,” I say not really making any sense because that works out well for most bands.
“Well, actually, Staked is a really popular band at the moment. We could set up a headline tour with them?” Tillie asks, and I let out a bellowing laugh as Danger tenses up and goes quite stiff.
“See Tillie… if you knew us at all…” I wave my hands around, “… knew anything about how we work as a band…” more hand waving, “… you would know that Danger was engaged to the backing guitarist in Staked… Ella fucking Slade? Fuck Tillie, you know nothing! Nothing about us! How can we trust you with the selling of this band if you don’t even know us, huh?” I yell, and she draws her bottom lip into her teeth and looks across to Danger, who’s as tense as Lunar but somehow she manages to rub his arm.
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay, a tour with Staked? Yeah, I’ll make sure that will never happen. I’m sorry, Danger, I didn’t know and I should have done my research. But Ryan shutting down the right course for this band at my every turn is not going to make things easier. You need to accept that either you want this band to succeed… or you’re going to be another whitewash band that fades into obscurity… it’s your choice.”
I run my fingers through my hair and groan as I turn, kicking my chair and storming out of the boardroom. I can’t let Tillie know that even though I think her methods of advertising and marketing are completely over the top, she’s probably right. I can see now that the way I was conducting the PR was backward. It was old school. Everything’s so much more advanced these days, and there’s so much I don’t know. I hate to admit it, but maybe the indie rock scene isn’t the way to go anymore. I’m just scared. Fucking scared of everything right now. I’m scared of how quickly things can go tits-up. Let’s face it we are only a few seconds away from our own destiny at any time.
I move across to the kitchen area just off the boardroom and pace back and forth trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing. Hearing the boardroom door creak open, I look up and catch Danger walking out. I risk a glance at him but he frowns at me.
“What?” I jibe.
“Ry… c’mon.”
“Seriously? I’m not being stubborn here, I’m being pennywise.”
Danger laughs. He actually laughs, the douche. “Pennywise? Who the fuck says pennywise. Ryan, I know you’re unhappy and even offended about having the PR taken from you, but you gotta see that this direction is the right one for us… as a band.”
While folding my arms over my chest, I exhale loudly in response then say one word, “No.”
He scoffs. “Really? Give me one good reason?”
“We’re indie.”
“Why do we have to stay indie? We’re rock. We can be mainstream. Fuck Ryan, we’re good enough for mainstream. You know we are. What’s holding you back? I mean really… what are you so afraid of? This is what we’ve all dreamed of. Us… the four of us, our names in lights. Recoil a big rock mainstream band. This is what we are, this is who we are. This is the direction we need to take—”
“Fuck, I know all right!”
“Then why are you fighting this?”
I sigh, exasperated. “I don’t fucking know.”
He exhales then steps up to me. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, we slump against the kitchen counter. “Ry, I know you’re a stubborn fuck. But sometimes letting go of something isn’t just about letting go of one thing.”
I glance at him gritting my teeth. “I keep thinking…” Danger nods and lets me continue, “… Katie never doubted me. Not once… on anything… you know?”
He swallows hard and nods. “She loved you, warts and all.”
I let out a half-laugh. “Yeah. Well, she trusted me… on everything. She never thought I wasn’t capable. Katie knew… she just knew I was capable of anything I put my mind to.”
Danger nods. “So having Tillie doing the PR makes you feel like you aren’t capable?”
I shrug. “But I’m not capable, am I? It’s fucking obvious, man.”
He exhales and slaps my back. “It’s not that you’re not capable, Ry—”
“It’s just that maybe I’m not the best man for the job anymore?”
Danger knocks his temple to mine and sighs. “You’re the best man for the job, but maybe this job needs a good woman. What do you say?”
I can’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. I just hate not being good enough.”
Danger slaps my shoulder. “Hey, don’t think of it like that. Just think that maybe your talents can be put to use elsewhere? Maybe you can start to kick my ass in training or something?”
“Yeah, like that will ever happen? Are you trying to make me feel worse?” I scoff.
He chuckles. “Shit sorry! But really, Ryan, something good will come of Tillie being here. I promise.”
“Yeah, I hope so. ‘Cause right now, all I’m seeing is me being replaced, and our money being spent in ridiculously large amounts.”
“But, on the plus side, our Facebook likes have gone up massively already in only a few days. Tillie’s methods are working already, and she hasn’t been here for even one week.”
I groan as he walks backward away from me with a giant smirk toward the boardroom, and I roll my eyes. Turning toward the kitchen bench, I pour myself some much-needed caffeine.
I hate that he’s right. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I have been watching our social media pages, and since Tillie has taken control everything has skyrocketed.
Bitch.
She seems to have the knack or knowledge to somehow magically have everything working in our favor and I hate it. I mean I guess she does have training and the background knowledge behind her. Still, the things I learned were physical, I put blood, sweat, and tears into them. She sat behind a computer and used textbooks to learn. I figured it out the hard way, the real way. You can’t beat real life experience. That’s what gets you ahead in this life… doesn’t it?
Fuck! I don’t know anymore. I need to get my head out of my ass because I hate admitting defeat. So I won’t. Tillie might be damn good at her job, but I’ll be fucked if I’m going to let her get the better of me. She proved she may know her shit, but she doesn’t know Recoil. I can still show that I can be worthy of this band and can still push her out if push comes to shove. I can show her who the boss is if I need to. She may think she has the band wrapped around her cute little fingers, but I can show her who the real leader of this band is.
I am this band. This band wouldn’t be where it is today without me!
“I am Recoil!” I say proudly.
“Really? I thought Recoil was four people?” Tillie states in her charmingl
y squeaky little voice from behind me, surprising me so much I jump slightly like a fucking little kid.
“Fuck me! You do know it’s rude to sneak up on people?” Swinging around quickly, I notice we’re in the kitchen completely alone.
She smirks while leaning past me to switch the coffee machine back on that I was using during my self-empowerment session. Her arm grazes mine, and a little spark shoots through me—must be static electricity from the stupid apricot carpet—which makes all the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“Well, I was too busy watching you amp yourself up. I wasn’t going to interrupt, but then you started talking to yourself too. So you know… they say that’s the first sign of madness and all.”
“You think I’m crazy?” I ask, more than a little pissed off.
She smirks. “Relax Ryan, I’m joking. You’re so tense.”
I roll my eyes in answer. As her coffee brews, I look to the machine wanting a cup so badly but not wanting to stay here and wait for hers to finish so I say, “I’ll come back.”
She shakes her head infinitesimally. “Jesus Christ, Ryan, I’m not that horrible. You can wait around with me while the coffee brews, and if I am that terrible you can have my fucking cup and I’ll get the next one.”
I swallow hard and slump my shoulders as she picks up the cup of coffee and raises her eyebrow. She gestures for me to take the cup, and I wonder what the fuck should I do? Do I take the cup like I want to and look like the asshole I am, or do I let her have it and risk her sticking around to talk to me?
I decide to take it. As I lean forward to take the cup she tightens her grip on the mug. I grit my teeth while she grins.
“Fine, keep the fucking cup,” I say.
She giggles and reaches her hand forward just as I pull my hand away. Somehow the hot mug of coffee gets caught in the kafuffle of hands and the coffee tips out and spills down the front of her white blouse. Tillie screams out as the boiling hot liquid splashes against her breasts, and I open my eyes wide as I watch the fluid taint her white top beige, but in doing so has also turned it completely see through.