The Edge

by Jamie Collinson

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t need to decide straight away. After all, she’s probably still got years.’

  33

  On Sunday night, an email had come in from Roger. It was simply a subject line: Call me as soon as you’re in tomorrow.

  Now, as he walked to work on Monday morning, Adam began to abandon hope. There’d been no word from Erica. Roger’s ominous message could surely only mean that Falconz were not going to stay on the label.

  The office was already chilled when he arrived. Someone must have been in early.

  On the upper floor, Beau, wearing headphones, grinned, winked and made pistol-cocking motions with his fingers. Kristen was hunched over her laptop, on which she quickly hid her Facebook page. Her sunglasses were perched on top of her head.

  ‘Morning,’ Adam said to her. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Like, exhausted,’ she said.

  Scott was also at his desk. He looked up, but didn’t speak until Adam greeted him.

  ‘Good weekend?’ Adam asked him.

  ‘Great,’ Scott replied. ‘Really great actually.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Adam said.

  ‘Shall we, like, catch up?’ Scott asked.

  ‘Not just now. I have to call Roger.’

  An anxious curiosity cleared the mists of happy weekend memories from Scott’s eyes. They sharpened on Adam’s.

  ‘Should I be on that?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ Adam told him. ‘I’m going to take it outside, actually.’

  He couldn’t stand being in the office any more. In London, he’d always felt excited to arrive at work. Happy to be around colleagues he liked. Potentially, he was some sort of cultural failure. Maybe just not a good manager of people. He assumed it wasn’t normal to feel visceral hatred for the people who worked for you. Thus, the problem was him.

  Outside, he paced the shady walkway that ran the length of the building, and which the day’s heat hadn’t yet colonized. Presumably it also wasn’t normal to be afraid to make a business call. Why did he feel as though he’d been sent to the headmaster’s office? This would be it, he was sure. Roger was going to take Falconz elsewhere, and Adam would have failed. It would have been better for the Autodidact to be first to know. That way, Adam wouldn’t have had to tell him himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  He scrolled to Roger’s number and hit Call with a brittle-feeling finger.

  ‘Well hey,’ the manager said, picking up immediately. There was something new in his voice. Glee, Adam decided.

  ‘Hi,’ Adam said.

  ‘How you doing, sir?’ Roger said.

  Adam frowned at a tall plant which sprouted from a border running along the walkway. ‘I’m OK, thanks. How are you?’

  ‘I’m awesome,’ Roger said, sounding very cheerful indeed. ‘And I have some very good news for you, brother.’

  Was Roger so demented that he thought a major label licence deal was going to come as good news?

  ‘Exciting,’ Adam said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well,’ Roger said, ‘Joel was going to call you himself, but I asked if I could break the news. Euphonic have come on board as exclusive national promoter, and they’re gonna give us a big pot of marketing money as part of the deal.’

  ‘Wow,’ Adam said. The thought dawned on him that this was, technically at least, actually very good news.

  ‘So really I just wanted to say thank you,’ Roger said. ‘Joel said it was the meeting he had with you that sparked this whole thing off. I didn’t even know you knew the guy!’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Adam said, nodding at the plant.

  ‘He told me you pitched him at his house?’ The manager laughed, as though in approval of a well-executed extreme sports move. ‘That’s some next-level shit, bro.’

  ‘Well,’ Adam said. ‘They say the bathroom is the new boardroom.’

  ‘… Right,’ Roger said. ‘Well, this is the part of the picture that was missing, dude. There’s no strings attached to the marketing money. We’ve got at least a million to do what we like with. And this way we keep it independent. No major label contracts and old-school licence deals.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Adam said.

  ‘Honestly, brother,’ Roger said, ‘this is exactly the sort of futuristic thinking that Falconz is all about. No one’s done a deal like this before, so we’re making history. I’m gonna speak to Billboard this afternoon, and I want you to give a statement too.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ Adam said.

  ‘It’s so exciting, right? It’s such a great feeling?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Adam lied, thinking that there was something very wrong with him.

  ‘And listen, Adam?’ Roger said, his voice softening. ‘I’m sorry if I pushed you. But I hope you see why now. I push everyone who works with us, but no one harder than myself. And in this case, look what it led to.’

  Of course, Adam thought.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s absolutely fine.’

  ‘Also, Marissa and Bret told me what you said in Denver, about me being a great manager? I appreciate it, buddy. That actually helped a lot. Things have been… intense.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Adam said.

  ‘Well, listen, man,’ Roger continued, ‘I gotta tell Bret and Marissa. And oh, by the way, you need to call Jason.’

  ‘Jason?’ Adam frowned.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry, I already told him. I had a call scheduled with him before my workout, real early. I didn’t think you’d be up. I hope that’s alright?’

  ‘Right, yes.’

  ‘He wanted me to ask you to call him.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And Adam?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thanks for bringing your A-game for the team.’

  Adam hung up, and walked back along the concrete path towards the stairs. Before he’d reached the door that led to them, it swung open, Isa framed within it.

  She was dressed in trackpants and a faded grey t-shirt, struggling to get through the door with a handbag, a small, unzipped holdall evidently stuffed with sports kit, and a scuffed leather laptop case. She looked worried, the flesh of her face lifeless and drawn.

  ‘Hi, mate,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Hello.’

  He held the door and took two of the bags from her, placing them by the entrance to the office.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. She gave him a quick hug, pulling him to her quite tightly.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Been better,’ she said. ‘You off out?’

  ‘Yes, I need to make a call. Thought I’d do it from the park.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing, really.’

  ‘Something is, obviously. Just tell me.’

  She puffed out her cheeks and sighed. ‘I think I’m in trouble with Jason,’ she said, removing her phone from a pocket and checking its screen, which was now cracked.

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Well, I had a big night with those Vegas guys on Thursday,’ she said. ‘I called your mate Craig and ended up being out really late with them and getting all messy. I thought that was probably what I should do, since Jason really wants to work with them. Then on Friday I had a panic attack and missed a meeting he wanted me to take. And apparently that was more important.’

  ‘A panic attack? Since when do you get those?’

  She puffed out her cheeks again. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘since you dumped me.’

  Adam’s skin crawled with shame. ‘I’m sorry, Isa,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know…’

  She looked him in the eye, sighed, and gave a strange, resigned smile.

  ‘Let’s talk when you’re back?’ she said. ‘I need to get inside and sort a few things out.’

  ‘OK, yes,’ Adam said, opening the office door for her. ‘We can definitely do that.’

  * * *

  The park was still quiet when he wandered into it. A few joggers and dog walkers, and the
bums stirring in their makeshift beds in the shadows beneath the palm trees.

  The benches at the lake’s edge, beyond the statue of the Queen of the Angels, were all empty. Adam paused beneath the statue, and looked up at the tall, Art Deco woman, perfect in her symmetry, her palms raised beside the twin protrusions of her breasts, and above the slight swell of her belly. She had been sculpted, he knew, by a female artist. Perhaps that was why she seemed both imperiously mythic and physically, sympathetically, realistic.

  He sat on the bench behind her, from which he’d called the Autodidact only a couple of short weeks earlier. At least this time he felt less sick.

  Delaying the moment, he stared at the bright lake until his eyes ached. An egret was standing very straight and still, a little way into the water. In the crown of a tree on the birds’ island, a flock of grackles was chattering and dive-bombing each other.

  Putting off the moment no longer, he made the call to Jason.

  ‘Hi, man,’ the Autodidact said on answering.

  ‘Hello,’ Adam said.

  ‘You in the office?’

  ‘No, in the park actually.’

  A man had seated himself on a mat on the lawn to Adam’s left, raised palms resting on his knees, face upturned and eyes closed.

  ‘It’s just me and a meditator,’ he said.

  ‘Right,’ the Autodidact said. ‘Have you ever tried it?’

  ‘Meditation? No. I probably should, I suppose.’

  ‘I do it as often as possible. Would be daily if it wasn’t for work. It’s amazing, mate.’

  ‘Right,’ Adam said.

  ‘I’ve got this book,’ the Autodidact said, ‘Tactics of the Titans.’ His voice had warmed up, as though he were a little boy showing off a prized possession in a playground. Christ, Adam thought. Are all of us just little boys at heart? Children, overendowed and made terrible with brainpower, insecurity and libido?

  ‘That sounds interesting,’ he told Jason.

  ‘Yeah,’ the Autodidact said. ‘It’s amazing how many successful people meditate. It really works. You should try it.’

  I really should try it, Adam thought. But I never will. Not while people like you do it, and while there are jalapeño margaritas in the world.

  ‘Anyway,’ the Autodidact said, waking himself from this rare moment of small talk. ‘Where do we start, eh?’

  ‘Yes, big news this morning.’

  ‘The Euphonic shit? Yeah, that’s massive. Well done, man. That’s a serious result you’ve pulled off there.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Well done on the Mammal thing too.’

  ‘Shit, I haven’t even seen it. Was it…’

  ‘It was friendly, yeah. Rumours of transphobia unfounded. Strong history of activism on Serena’s part. Liberal political outlook, all that shit. They referred to a potential grudge from a former member of staff.’

  ‘Right,’ Adam said. ‘Good.’

  ‘Sign of getting bigger I think, man,’ the Autodidact said. ‘Disgruntled employees and all that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said.

  He peered out at the water, which shone blue-white in the sun. It brought to mind the memory, as a youth, of going duck shooting in the Mendip Hills with his father. They’d lined up before dawn, and he’d missed the ducks flying over, because behind him had been a lake that shone like liquid silver in the moonlight, transmuting to gold as the sun rose, and he’d been unable to stop turning around to look at it. The beauty of the countryside his dad had shown him had almost terrified him – a raw, unfathomable beauty that he’d reeled from. He hadn’t been able to stand it when he was younger. He’d had to get away from it.

  ‘Anyway,’ the Autodidact continued. ‘Now we’ve got the deal sealed, we can get cracking on the album. Roger’s ideas are alarming, frankly. I think we need to get in the studio with Marissa and Bret.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Well,’ the Autodidact said, ‘probably you actually. You’re tight with them. You should get to do it, I think. I mean, I’ll send you all the A & R ideas and you can talk them through it, head up there and try and make it happen direct.’

  Yes, Adam thought. I am a mere vessel. The power and the grace of others moves within me.

  He pictured another flight, another studio, another set of someone else’s notes for another record he hated, and the three days spent in windowless gloom, listening to it over and over again while its creators studied his face.

  I just can’t fucking do this any more, he thought. The realization quickened his pulse. He felt dizzy and hollowed out.

  ‘… they need to rethink all the vocal ideas,’ the Autodidact was saying. ‘We need to get some real top-line writers in the studio with them. Pop people. I’m deeply worried about Roger’s attitude to this stuff. If we’re gonna get them to the sort of level he’s thinking it’s gonna take…’

  Something in the sky above the lake caught Adam’s attention. At first he thought it was just a gull, but something about the way it was flying drew his attention. He raised his left hand, shading his eyes. No, it wasn’t a gull. It was too big. The shape was wrong. Standing, he began to move around the edge of the lake, closer to where the bird was circling. Adrenaline quickened his pulse further. Yes, he thought. It was an osprey.

  ‘… pop type success,’ the Autodidact was saying. ‘Choruses. Hooks. Main stage culture. Really drum it into them. Probably take about a week of full studio days. I’ll send extensive notes…’

  Adam watched the bird as it circled over the lake, apparently hunting. It had to be a sign, didn’t it? He’d never believed in them, but…

  A vision of his father came to him, coaching him over some decision he had been struggling with as a teenager.

  ‘Don’t do anything,’ his dad had said, ‘unless it feels just right.’ He’d made a circle of his thumb and forefinger, and a sound like a chime.

  How he wished, now, that he could hang up the phone and call his father. Ask him for his advice once again.

  ‘So, does that all sound good, man?’ the Autodidact said. ‘You feel happy with that?’

  ‘Hold on…’ Adam said.

  Happy? No, he wasn’t happy. Somewhere along the line he’d become unhappy, in fact. I’ve become unhappy. The realization sank through him and settled with horrible finality, like a bright coin tossed into a well.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  ‘I know it’s hard work, mate,’ the Autodidact said. ‘To be honest, I was gonna send Isa up there to do it. Between you and me, though, I’m not sure it’s gonna work with her.’

  ‘What?’ Adam said. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think it might’ve been a mistake bringing her back. We might even have to let her go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She’s fucking all over the place, missing meetings. Defeating the purpose of being there. I don’t think I can depend on her.’

  Not submitting to the henpecker-in-chief, Adam thought, enraged. Not willing or able to be completely under your control.

  ‘She’s totally mad anyway, mate,’ Jason continued. ‘Doesn’t know what the fuck she wants. You know she once told me you’re the love of her life?’

  Adam’s jaw went stiff, and the osprey dissolved liquidly before he blinked back tears. The bird had reached the far end of the lake, was harder to make out. He took a few steps to the water’s edge and squinted, trying to retain possession of it in his eyes. He thought it had gone, but then saw that it was circling, coming back over the lake towards him.

  ‘Adam?’ the Autodidact said.

  ‘I don’t think you should fire Isa,’ Adam said.

  ‘Right. Why not?’

  ‘Lots of reasons. But mainly that she’s good, and you’re going to need her.’

  His body felt light and fragile, as if a gust might blow him into the lake.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I quit.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘I’ve just had enough,’ Adam
said.

  There was silence at the other end of the phone. Midway across the lake, the osprey suddenly contracted, and dropped towards its surface. It re-emerged seconds later, evidently having missed its target, curving upward to begin circling the water again.

  ‘Mate,’ Jason said. ‘You don’t want to make a decision like this without giving it a lot of thought.’

  ‘I already have,’ Adam said.

  He thought of his mother, of standing at her funeral. Of how it would feel not to have seen her again, until she was lying dead in a wooden box before him. Of what it would feel like to hold her in his arms while he still had the chance. Of what it would be like to see her on another tiny screen one day, a lifeless avatar of the real her, six thousand miles away, and for her finally to have forgotten who he was.

  When his father had died, he’d spent days walking around the streets, writing the perfect speech in his head. He’d captured his father’s honour and honesty and charm and decency and even some of his failings in exactly the right words. Then, when the day came, he’d stood at the lectern and cried and been unable to say any of them. He’d failed his dad completely.

  ‘I have to come back, I think,’ he told Jason.

  ‘Look, man,’ the Autodidact said. ‘This is a bit of a shock. We don’t want to lose you. Shall I go get Serena?’

  ‘No, I don’t think you should,’ Adam said.

  ‘Well, at least just think about it until the end of the week. Will you do that?’

  ‘… No. This is something that I need to do,’ Adam said. ‘It’s been a long time coming.’

  But after all, wasn’t it a bit too late? Wasn’t the time to go back long gone now, like his dad, like most of his mother? Like Sofia? He closed his eyes and saw her, beaming at him, beautiful and just slightly goofy in the sunny glow beneath white sheets; expectant, waiting for him to say something that he dearly wished, now, that he had said; her eyes alive with love, still his.

  All of it was gone, scorched away. The house he’d grown up in, where year after slow year of love and life had passed. School uniforms and bullies and the sleepy relief of his mum driving him home. His sister’s violin-playing filling the house; the fearful cacophony of municipal swimming pools and playing fields. His father’s new cars and the buzz of being driven in them fast down country lanes. The one kiss his dad had given him, on a cheek damp with tears in the darkness of his bedroom, to which his father had returned after sending him to bed punished. The warm, wet patch on his trousers where another boy had turned at the school urinal to piss on him.