by Amity Cross
Six days a week, I interned at Galaxy Records. Five nights a week, I worked at a café in Brooklyn. It was an alternative place that attracted artists, musicians, hipsters, and bohemians. We stayed open until ten thirty every night, and the atmosphere turned dark and dangerous when the sun went down. The decor consisted of old couches and armchairs crammed into every available space, complete with side tables and lamps. I’d made some good friends there, so I didn’t mind the minimum wage. Tips weren’t bad because we had a lot of regulars, and the boss didn’t mind my rotating schedule with my internship. I had it pretty good for a nobody in NY.
Galaxy had been around since the early seventies and was one of the biggest labels out there for rock, indie, and alternative guitar and electro bands. When I was in my teens, I’d been a bit of a rebellious punk rocker, so that kind of music was my life, but I had no skill for singing or playing. I tried with disastrous results and cringed every time I thought about how bad I was.
Now I wanted to get my foot in the door any way I could. If I couldn’t play, then I’d manage, market, scout, or anything. Galaxy Records had kind of fallen into my lap, and I’d scooped it up and sacrificed everything to hold onto it. A thousand people wanted in if I slipped and fell on my ass, and fucked if I was letting them.
I was placed in the marketing team and had been working hard ever since. Mostly, I ran around after Georgie. She was in charge of a band’s image, so it was all photo shoots, music videos, and album releases. All the juicy stuff. It didn’t matter that I went out to get her lunch. It mattered that I made the most of the inane phone calls and listened in on meetings. It mattered who I got to meet and the impression I made. I wanted to be better at Georgie’s job than Georgie so one day they’d offer it to me.
But all that schmoozing came with great responsibility…
Integrity.
The one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do was to get involved personally with the bands. I got to meet a lot of musicians, and they were all the same. Smooth-talking assholes who only thought about their dicks. I guess I was pretty enough to warrant an attempt, but they never got anywhere. I’m sure Georgie slept with her fair share of rockers, but I wasn’t Georgie.
So when we inevitably came out to LA to see this new band that had been blowing up the office, The Devil’s Tattoo, I was excited. I really dug their stuff. A girl and three guys from Australia. I’d always wanted to go there to check out the music scene and cuddle a koala.
I’d spoken with the band’s manager, Simone Glass, on a few occasions organizing some promo, and she was the sweetest thing. I hoped they were all like that. We’d worked out a short but full schedule for the next few days. Georgie and I would go to see their last day of recording depending on our flight. Then we had a dinner and the usual club outing that the label liked bands to endure in LA. Then there were a few interviews, and a one-off gig, which I was really looking forward to. Apparently, they were really good to see live, and I would get to experience it from the side of the stage. Watching recordings on YouTube didn’t give me the same buzz.
It was still only around five p.m. when we got to the studio, and the guy on the front desk let us right in. This was nothing new for me, walking into the middle of a session with someone in the booth recording while the rest of the band lounged around bored out of their brains with all the waiting. But when we went in, three of the four members of The Devil’s Tattoo got straight up and cheerfully introduced themselves.
The woman I knew to be the lead singer was first in line, and she was better looking in person than in the promo shots.
“I’m Zoe,” she said, shaking my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Jessie and likewise.” She seemed friendly enough, which was a surprise.
The guy with the shaved head stood forward. “I’m Frank.” He winked, and I knew he was trouble.
“This is Chris,” Simone said, and he came forward to shake our hands. He seemed almost shy, but I knew he was with Simone.
Once everyone was done introducing themselves, I turned my attention back to Georgie, who was looking at the guy in the booth, and I saw a gleam in her eye.
“That’s Dee,” Zoe said, watching me watch Georgie.
“We weren’t expecting you,” Simone began. “And we’ve got this last song to do before our time’s up. It was a last minute decision to add it into the album. We’re thinking it’ll be the first single.”
“We want it to be,” Zoe said, glancing at the guy in the booth.
I looked through the soundproof glass for the first time, and my gaze instantly locked with his. There was a horrible scratching sound as he messed up his take, and I covered my mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh, but everyone else was falling over themselves.
He hit the intercom and said, “Start it again.”
His voice was one hundred percent sexy. I didn’t know how I could come to that conclusion from three little words, but he was so Australian it hurt. I was a sucker for an accent…and his eyes. I seriously felt like fanning myself.
My gaze locked with Zoe’s, and she smiled, probably guessing that I was currently in a state of melting under those dark brown eyes of Dee whatever his last name was.
“Sorry, it’s a fleeting call,” Georgie was saying. “We have a full schedule for you guys over the next few days, so we just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves. Anything you need, day or night, just let us know. Simone has Jessie’s number.”
“Thanks, Georgie, Jessie,” Simone replied diplomatically. I’m sure they did things differently in Australia. Galaxy was more about the glitz and the dollar signs, and I got the feeling, even from this short meeting, that the band wasn’t into it that much…and that made me like them even more.
I didn’t dare look back into the booth as we left the studio, the muted sounds of whatever part the guitarist was playing seeping out of the sound tech’s headphones.
The outer door closed behind us, and as we walked toward the car, the look that guy had given me played on my mind.
“Cute, isn’t he?” Georgie drawled, and I shuddered internally. Of course, she’d go there.
“I guess,” I replied nonchalantly. The guitarist was smoking hot and made all the right parts drenched, but I didn’t want to say it. It would just encourage her.
“He was checking you out.” It came out a little resentful.
“Don’t be silly, Georgie,” I said. “You know what I’m like.”
She smiled at me wickedly, and I was suddenly sorry for the guy. The next few days were going to be very interesting, and I hoped to hell it wouldn’t include any damage control.
Chapter 3
Dee
I stood next to Zoe in the middle of a very busy LAX, terminal whatever, with my hands shoved in my pockets. Something about airports put me off. I mean, someone was always leaving or coming back, and I was the kind of guy who liked to stick around. Maybe that was my problem. Not being able to let go.
Suddenly, Zoe ran forward, and I watched as she launched herself at a tired-looking Will as he dropped his suitcase to catch her. I fucking loved that she was so happy, and Will was a great guy. He had a strange way of going about shit, and it took me a while to like the guy, but he was all right. They were solid. I wanted to be solid.
I felt like suck a jerk for being jealous of what they had, but I still grinned watching their reunion. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, and knowing how mental they were about each other, this was pretty warranted. We’d been in the US for almost three months all told, and we all still had another three on our visas. I knew Zoe and Will were taking a trip together to see some of the country, and the others were going home for some R and R, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do yet. I had the cash if I wanted to travel, but I wouldn’t be going with the lovebirds. That would be depressing.
For once, we didn’t have any commitments with the band other than what the label had scheduled over the next couple of days. We hadn’t stopped since we
started two years ago, and everyone was gunning for a break. We were all still in love with the band, and that would probably never change, but sometimes, you just needed some time.
“Hey, mate,” Will said, finally disengaging his lips from Zoe’s and coming over to where I waited.
“’Sup.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Shitty flight?”
“Fourteen hours of pure hell.”
“Yeah, but it’s worth it with her at the end, right?” I said slyly, giving Zoe a wink.
“You know it.” He grinned, sweeping her into his arms again.
I grabbed his suitcase and walked in front of them toward the taxi rank. I’d come with Zoe because I couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting in my hotel room alone with my own thoughts. Honestly, I was depressed. Without the distraction of touring and gigs to play, I would just spiral down and down. I mean, recording was great, but it wasn’t a stage. And I especially didn’t want to be alone with my own thoughts after last night.
That conversation with Zoe.
Locking eyes with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
Knowing that they were taking us out tonight.
Fuck. The shit I’d said to Zoe about it. I hoped she would keep that to herself.
Outside, I turned around to make sure the dynamic duo were following and watched as they stopped beside me, Zoe’s hand rammed into the back pocket of Will’s jeans. I didn’t want to look at that, but my mind wandered to the place where all guys’ minds wandered. Jessie’s hands.
“Are you coming to dinner with us tonight?” I asked Will to distract myself.
“Just the dinner,” he replied as we joined the line at the taxi rank. “I want to catch up with everyone before you all split.”
“Fair enough.” I shrugged. “What’s the plan? Where are you guys going first?”
“Las Vegas,” he replied. “Zoe wants to see the Grand Canyon, and then it’s down toward New Orleans, then Alabama, and Florida.”
When he mentioned Las Vegas, it made me think about Route 66. That sounded like an idea. Maybe that was what I would do. Cruise the open road with just me, the sky, and the desert.
“No tours or anything,” Zoe said to Will as if she was reminding him. “All DIY. I like the thrill of discovery.”
When it was our turn in line, I thumped the boot of the waiting taxi, and the driver popped it open. I shoved the suitcase inside as Zoe jumped into the rear. Before I could slide in beside her, Will held me back.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem a little off.”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Recording is a bit, you know.”
He frowned at me.
“You know me, mate. I like to be on a stage.”
He smiled, but I knew I wasn’t fooling him. Thankfully, he didn’t push me for more and slid into the back of the taxi next to Zoe. I got in on the opposite side, sandwiching her in the middle.
As we made our way back into the city, I watched the world go past while Will and Zoe talked about the flight, recording, and whatever else seemed to come into their heads.
Everything was back to front here. They drove on the right. Their cars were ass-backward. When the speed limit was sixty, that was fast. And it was just as hot as an Australian summer, though I hadn’t got my head around the whole Fahrenheit-Celsius thing. All hail the metric system.
Despite all of that, I kind of liked America. It was something different, something fresh, and maybe that’s what I needed to get myself out of this funk. Pining over a woman would probably make it worse, especially if she shot me down. Jessie would shoot me down, and I didn’t even know her yet. Expecting me to be the typical musician rock star type, she would turn up her nose, and that would be that. Pigeonholed into a bad boy stereotype that gave me the shits.
By the time we got back to the hotel, it was almost time to go out again, and we planned to rendezvous out front in an hour or so. My idea of getting ready was to have a quick shower, forgo shaving, and throw on a ‘nice’ pair of jeans and a T-shirt with some random band logo and a beat up denim jacket. I didn’t do shoes. I did boots. I shoved my phone in my pocket, and I was complete.
I didn’t really care that much about how I looked, but I found myself staring at my reflection in the mirror wondering what this Jessie would see. Handsome Aussie rocker, or deadbeat busker? I could probably be either.
My lifestyle pre-band wasn’t ideal for my parents. Starving busker wasn’t really their thing. I guess they wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer or settle into a nothing middle management job with a steady income. Too bad I was dumb as dog shit. The only things I had an aptitude for were books and music. I always got top grades in Drama. I didn’t go to Uni or TAFE. I went to Centrelink, got an unemployment payment, and sat on the street busking from dawn until dusk. Imagine the parental units telling the extended family about their one and only son sitting on a street corner all day and collecting the dole.
That was pretty much everything that went into being Dee Cosgrove.
I didn’t have a secret past. I didn’t have anything horrible happen to me like Zoe. I was just a guy. I’d probably made some stupid decisions in my time but nothing epic. Hell, I’d never had a steady girlfriend before. Twenty-five and perpetually single.
It wasn’t like I was ugly. Shit, I had my fair share of attention from girls, but I wasn’t into casual stuff like that. I was old-fashioned. I wanted a relationship. I wanted to fall in love. I didn’t want meaningless. I wanted meaningful.
So that was my inspiration for approaching Jessie. Talk to her like Zoe had suggested, and ask her out on a date. Fucking hell, I wanted to kiss her, but I also wanted to know what she was about. What she liked and disliked. Where she grew up. What music she liked. Why she was interning and not running the show.
I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I figured I would know when I saw her.
Sitting in the back of the town car that was taking us over to the restaurant, Zoe crammed in next to Frank and me, squashing me in the middle.
“What, not riding with lover boy?” I asked with a small smile.
“Nope.” She patted me on the knee as Frank typed a message into his phone. “Are you really okay, Dee?”
“Yes.” I snorted as the car pulled out into traffic. So another round of questioning was why she was here and not there.
“Dee, seriously.” Frank elbowed me sharply.
“Is this an intervention? Because you need something to intervene,” I said sarcastically, eying the driver in the rearview mirror, but his gaze was fixed on the road.
“C’mon.” Zoe smiled kindly, threading her arm through mine. “I haven’t seen you this down before. Ever.”
“What do you want me to say, Zo? I don’t know. Here’s me”—I held out a hand—“and here’s my wits’ end.” I clapped them both together.
“He’s got the hots for a girl, Will style,” Frank said, and I remembered our short convo the night before at the studio. The ‘I saw her first’ shenanigans.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” Zoe asked, pulling my hands down. She knew this already from our awkward deep and meaningful at the studio.
“Tonight?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah.”
“Talking is a good start.” I’d already planned it.
“Try not to be a smartass,” Frank suggested.
I scoffed. “Thanks for the advice, mate.”
He grinned stupidly at me as the car pulled up out the front of the restaurant. “Anytime.”
As he got out, Zoe leaned into me and whispered, “Never take advice from a drummer.” Despite myself, I let out a laugh, and she slapped me on the chest. “That’s my Dee.”
As we stood on the footpath and the others joined us, she let go of me and waltzed over to Will. As my gaze followed my best friend, it kept going and latched straight onto the woman I’d seen at the studio last night. The woman whose name hadn’t left my head.
Jessie.
She glanced up as if she sensed I was staring at her, and her gaze met mine with eyes just as captivating as the night before…and then she smiled, and I knew I was a goner.
“Hey, I’m Jessie,” she said, her accent hitting me like a ton of bricks.
“Hey,” I said, almost choking on that one simple word. She was there with her pretty doe eyes, and she split my head in half. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say, and I was reduced to a blubbering idiot.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet yesterday.”
“Dee,” I declared a little too abruptly.
“C’mon, that’s not your real name.” She smiled crookedly as if she knew the effect she had on me.
“Yes, it is,” I scoffed. “D for dangerous. E for enigmatic and E for—”
“Egotistical?”
Damn. “I’ve been called vain but never egotistical.” I gave her a wink for good measure.
She rolled her pretty brown eyes and shook her head. The other label rep, the one I knew was Georgie, came out of the restaurant and ushered us in, and I lost my chance to say anything else. Probably a good thing because my foot was already in it.