by M. H. Soars
Remi places the takeout bags on the round table facing the kitchen and we all sit down.
“Shall I read the contract out loud?” Tabatha asks.
“You better,” Remi replies. “I don’t know why Allan didn’t give us four copies.”
“Maybe he’s environmentally conscious.” I smirk at her and she rolls her eyes.
It takes twenty minutes to read through the entire document, and Tabatha highlights the parts we have questions about. It all sounds too good to be true. The sample contract even gives the advance amount and that alone would mean I could buy a more reliable car.
“What do you guys think?” Tabatha asks.
“Too good to be true?” Sticks voices what I was thinking a minute ago.
“Ugh, guys. Why the negativity? This is the opportunity of a life time,” Remi replies.
“I’m not so sure, Remi. The company doesn’t have a website or any social media presence. I’m not saying they have bad intentions, but how do they plan to promote us when nobody knows who they are?” Tabatha points out.
“What about the silent partner? Allan said he used to be in the biz. Plus, Allan himself comes from music royalty,” I say and Tabatha frowns at me. We are usually on the same page when it comes to this type of thing.
“Don’t count on him using his mother’s fame in our favor. He has nothing to do with her,” Sticks says.
We all look in her direction but it is Remi who poses the question, “How do you know so much about him?”
Sticks glances down and clenches her jaw. She doesn’t answer Remi’s question right away which to me speaks volumes. After a moment, she finally raises her head and lock eyes with Remi. “His mother owns a mansion in White Peaks and my mother used to work for her.”
“So, you know Allan?” I ask.
Sticks shakes her head. “No. I don’t know him. But tonight was not the first time we were in the same room together.”
“Oh, shit. He didn’t even recognize you. What a jerk.” Remi crosses her arms and frowns.
“He wouldn’t. I’ve changed a lot since the last time he saw me.”
“Do you think he can be trusted?” It’s Tabatha’s turn to ask.
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Okay. Here is what I propose we do. Dad has a good friend who is a lawyer. I’m sure he won’t mind looking over the contract for free,” Tabatha says.
“Sounds like a plan.” I stretch my arms, finally feeling the effects of a very intense week. My body is about to crash. I stand up, ready to say goodbye, when Tabatha speaks again.
“I know I’m the minority here, but I want to know who the silent partner of Renegades Productions is before we sign anything.”
Not knowing the identity of the investor is not a deal breaker for me and I’m sure Remi shares my sentiment. Sticks, I don’t know. The hard set of Tabatha’s jaw and her squared shoulder tells me this is not a fight we are going to win tonight.
Six
OLIVER
I run across the expanse of my living room, wrapped in a towel, as I search for my phone. I don’t know why I didn’t bring the sucker with me into the bathroom. I’m expecting a call from Allan and this better be it. He was supposed to call me about Wreck of the Day first thing in the morning, but it’s already eleven a.m. in California. Anticipation is killing me. I was never a patient person. The phone stops ringing before I can locate the damn thing. Fuck!
I find the device under my couch and see I missed Allan’s call. I don’t bother listening to the voicemail message he left and call him right back. He answers on the first ring.
“Oliver, I just—”
“Did they sign it?” I cut him off.
“I guess you didn’t listen to my message. They sent the contract over to a lawyer, but their manager was adamant about one thing.”
“What?”
“They won’t sign until they meet you.”
“How was my involvement even brought into the conversation?” I ask through clenched teeth. Allan was supposed to say he owned the company solo.
“They found it strange that our company had no online presence and I let it slip the reason I went to see them prematurely was because my silent partner insisted.”
Son of a bitch.
“Damn it, Allan. Saylor won’t sign the contract if she knows I’m behind Renegades.”
“Don’t worry. I created the mess. I’ll fix it.”
I want to believe in Allan’s confident tone, but I don’t see how he plans on doing that. Unless he’s thinking about using his mother’s influence somehow.
“Care to share?”
“Not yet. When are you getting back?”
“I’m catching a flight tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
I end the call and stare at nothing. If Allan fails on his mission, I’ll need a backup plan to convince Saylor to sign with us. The bass player is the manager, Saylor told me that. I don’t think she likes me very much. I look down at my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find my sister’s number. The fact that she’s not saved to my favorites says a lot about our relationship.
The phone rings and rings and I’m certain she will let the call go to voicemail. I’m prepared to keep calling until she answers. It doesn’t come to that. Her annoyed voice comes through the speaker.
“What do you want, Oliver?”
“Hey, Char. Catch you at a bad time?”
“Yes, I was watching The Office, it’s the Gossip episode.”
“Wait, were you watching The Office with Steve Carell?” I’ve seen a snippet of it on Facebook, that’s how I know. I haven’t watched either version.
“Yes, duh.”
“Traitor.”
“Whatever. So, what do you want?”
“I’m flying back to Cali tomorrow and I was wondering if you are free to have dinner with me tonight.”
“A bit late for a dinner invitation, don’t you think? I already ate and I don’t feel like going out anyway.”
“Fine. Can I come over then?”
There’s a pause and I can practically hear the gears in my sister’s pretty head working. She knows I’m up to something.
“It depends. Are you drunk? High?”
“No. Jesus, Charlotte.”
I begin to pace and regret calling my dear sister.
“What? You can’t blame me for asking. Fine, you can come over. But you’d better bring ice cream. I don’t have any left.”
She ends the call before I have the chance to reply.
Twenty minutes later, I’m knocking on my sister’s apartment door in Chelsea, one of the trendiest neighborhoods in London. She’s been living on her own since she was eighteen. I’m not one bit surprised that she managed to convince our overbearing mother to let her live by herself in the city. Growing up, Charlotte was a manipulative brat. She always got what she wanted by only batting her eyelashes and saying exactly what Mum wanted to hear. Since I never had the stomach for ass kissing, sneaking around my parents was my MO. Charlotte was the perfect daughter and I was the rascal, the black sheep. Whatever.
She tells me to come in.
“Why is your door unlocked? It’s not safe.” I walk in and find her on the couch.
“Oh, you want to play the concerned brother now?”
I bite my tongue. I deserve every snarky remark Charlotte throws at me. I’m a shitty brother, always have been. She’s still watching TV, all rolled up in her blanket like a human burrito, and doesn’t spare me a glance as I walk to the kitchen to grab a couple of spoons.
Her decoration screams wealth and by the combination of modern and classic, I know Mother didn’t have a say in here. It’s all bright and clean. I remove my shoes before stepping foot in the living room, because Charlotte will have a fit if I stain her white fluffy rug.
I put the ice cream container on her coffee table, and sit on the small space next to her. I make a motion to dive into the creamy desser
t, but Charlotte snatches the container, keeping it out of my reach.
“Who says you can have any?”
“I bought it. Are you going to eat all that? Your ass is going to double in size. What will Joseph Whitman, the Third say?”
“I don’t fucking care what he’ll say. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”
She rolls her eyes and looks at me. “He cheated on me, okay? Besides, he was a bore.”
“I thought you liked the pasty, insipid types.”
“No, Mum likes them. I just follow along. It’s the path of least resistance.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Right, because getting the golden star for being the perfect daughter doesn’t suit you at all.”
She shrugs and smirks at me. “Unlike you, dear brother, I don’t make millions by singing a bunch of idiotic songs to a bunch of idiotic girls.”
“Someone is not bitter.”
“Whatever. Enough about me. Please state the reason of your visit and leave.”
She’s not joking, so I don’t beat around the bush. “I need your help with a girl.”
Charlotte freezes mid-motion, the ice cream spoon half way to her mouth, and drops her jaw. “Excuse me?”
“Please, don’t make me repeat it.”
She places the spoon back into the ice cream container and stares at me without blinking. Then she throws her head back and laughs. For a whole minute. When she finally has the giggles under control, tears have streamed down her cheeks.
“I’m glad that I amuse you,” I say through clenched teeth. I knew coming here would mean giving Charlotte enough ammunition to tease me for a lifetime. Yet, here I am, because Saylor is worth the humiliation and much more.
“Oliver Best has found a woman he can’t woo on his own? Next, you’re going to tell me you are in luuve.” She bats her eyelashes and places a hand over her chest.
When I don’t say anything, I expect the hysterics to restart. Instead, Charlotte just watches me in silence with her big hazel eyes.
“I’ll be damned,” she finally says. “You are in love. Oh my God. I can’t wait to meet this girl.”
“And you will. If you agree to help me.”
I see when Charlotte becomes excited with the idea, but the upturn of her lips tells me her help comes with a price.
“I’ll do it under one condition. You must help me convince Mum and Dad to let me transfer to DuBose College.”
I frown at her. “What about Oxford?”
She avoids my gaze and stares at the TV. “I never wanted to go there.”
I’m not sure if I believe Charlotte or not. We were never close. Oxford has my parents’ hands all over it, so it’s possible she truly doesn’t want to attend the prestigious institution. In reality, I don’t care what she does with her life, but the fact she wants to give Mum and Dad the middle finger suits me well.
“My sweet sister, it will be my pleasure.”
Seven
SAYLOR
We meet Allan in a trendy restaurant in Manhattan Beach, just outside of L.A., two days after Ray’s Venue concert. When we arrive at the location, he’s already waiting for us. A bolt of apprehension ties my stomach into knots. This is happening so fast. Are we making a mistake? I don’t have the time to recover from one.
Allan’s ginger hair is styled perfectly with just a hint of hair product in it. His jaw is framed by strawberry blond scruff which does nothing to make him look older. He stands up as soon as he sees us come into the restaurant, and I notice his Highlander T-shirt, ‘There can be only one’. My worries lessen a fraction, at least he has good taste. Mom’s love for the hit 80s movie rubbed off on me.
“Ladies. A pleasure meeting you again.”
We shake hands and then Allan asks us to take a seat. My gaze skates around the restaurant before I look straight into his eyes. “Is your partner coming?”
Not that it’s a big deal to me, but if it will make Tabatha happy, I’m all for it.
“Uh, my partner?”
“Sure. You don’t expect us to sign a contract without at least meeting the not-so-silent partner, do you?” Tabatha raises an eyebrow at him.
“He’s not ready to announce he’s part of Renegades Productions yet. It’s all part of our marketing strategy as I said before.”
“What? You don’t think we can keep a secret?” Sticks asks a little too harshly.
“That’s not it.” He frowns and stares at her intently. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
Remi opens her mouth, but Sticks flashes her with a pleading gaze, making Remi swallow her response.
“No,” Sticks says.
I elbow Tabatha to catch her attention. She leans closer and I whisper in her ear. “What are we going to do if he insists on not giving the name of his partner?”
I have a known expiration date. What if Allan takes away his offer and we never receive another? What if this is our only chance to get out of obscurity? The lawyer said the contract is solid. Who cares who the silent partner is, really?
I don’t get to hear Tabatha’s answer because Allan continues to talk and diverts my attention.
“I have news that will hopefully make you believe our company is one hundred percent invested into turning Wreck of the Day in one of the most successful bands in the world. We’ve lined up Scott Rowan to record a song with you.”
There’s a minute of silence at the table as each of us processes what Allan just said. My head is spinning. Scott freaking Rowan.
Remi is the one who recovers first. “The country music legend?”
Allan’s grin spreads from ear to ear. He knows he has us. “The one and only.”
I’m as shocked as everyone else. Scott Rowan is one of the most successful country singers in the nation. At twenty-eight years old, the guy has had more number one hits than Lionel Ritchie. He’s the male version of Taylor Swift.
“We’re not a country band,” Tabatha says.
“He wants to branch out.”
I peer at the girls and all of them but Sticks seem won over by the prospect of recording with Scott Rowan. With her face partially hidden by her baseball cap, it’s hard to read her expression. However, the thin flat line of her lips tells me she’s not as enthusiastic as the rest of us.
Tabatha glances at Allan again. “If we sign the contract, there must be a clause in it about the collaboration with Scott Rowan. I won’t take your word for it.”
Her response shocks the hell out of Remi if I’m to judge by how her eyebrows almost meet her hairline.
Allan doesn’t seem offended by it. He actually smiles before replying, “Naturally. So, can I put the champagne order in?”
We all turn to Tabatha and with a big smile, she replies, “Hell yeah.”
Eight
OLIVER
“Cheers, mate.” I raise the cold beer bottle in my hand before taking a long sip of the dark liquid. I grimace when the bitter taste hits the back of my throat—I was never a fan of the beverage—but I can’t afford to partake in my usual fare of hard booze. I need to stay sharp if I want Renegades Productions to succeed.
I’m back in L.A., busy as fuck getting my company off the ground. It was a premature move to sign Wreck of the Day before we had all our ducks in a row, no doubt about it. For that reason, Allan and I have been working around the clock and such distraction has kept me from obsessing too much about Saylor. But one can only work so much non-stop before collapsing. So I called Bas—fresh from his honeymoon—to join me for a beer.
“Cheers,” he replies and takes a sip of his drink as well.
I lean back and take in my surroundings. I found this gem while strolling in the middle of the night, getting acquainted with my neighborhood. Hermosa Beach isn’t lacking in cool little restaurants and this one in particular has a killer fish taco on their menu.
“How was your trip to London? Did you like being back there?” Bas asks.
“Are
you mental? I had to deal with my parents and piss poor weather. I’m glad to be back here.”
Bas shifts on his chair and avoids my gaze. He seems uncomfortable and I know why. Saylor running away soon after his wedding without saying goodbye didn’t go unnoticed. At least, no one thought I had done something awful to make her bail like that.
“Alright, let’s cut the bullshit. Just ask me about Saylor already.”
“What happened, mate?”
I run a hand through my hair and look at my beer glass. “I don’t have a bloody clue. Maybe it was too much, too fast. Saylor couldn’t handle it.”
Bas shakes his head and takes another sip of his beer. “That’s fucked up. I was rooting for you two.”
“Don’t worry. It’s temporary.”
My statement makes my friend narrow his eyes at me. “Ollie, what are you planning?”
“Remember when I told you I wanted to start a music production company?”
“Yes. Renegades Productions.”
“Well, we just signed Wreck of the Day.”
My mate stares at me with unblinking eyes for a minute, frozen. “You signed Saylor’s band? I can’t believe she would agree to that.”
My lips unfurl into a smile. “She doesn’t know I own it. I made Allan partner and he’s the one dealing with them.”
“Oh, fuck. That’s how you plan to get Saylor back? You’re crazy if you think that’s going to help. She’ll be furious.”
“Probably.”
“You have to tell her.”
“Not yet. Charlotte thinks I should wait.”
Bas raises both hands up. “Wait. Charlotte is involved? How the fuck did that happen? You don’t even like your sister.”
I shrug. “Desperate times require desperate measures. I needed a female perspective and Charlotte is the best I’ve got. She flew in today actually and she’s already driving me insane. And it’s not like I can come to Liv for help.”
Bas shakes his head again. “Whatever. It’s your grave.”
I roll my eyes. “Please. I may be whipped, but I haven’t lost my game yet.”