by B. B. Hamel
“Owner? Not anymore.”
“Bullshit, Jan. You can—”
“You’re the one that wouldn’t upgrade in the first place,” he says. “And now that we’re corporate, good luck getting funds.”
Cade’s about to shoot back when I interrupt him. “Fix what?” I ask.
Jan glares at me. “He can explain.”
Cade walks over and takes a coffee. “There’s this old microphone in the back there,” he says. “It sounds great but it’s always cutting in and out.”
“Microphones have sound?” I ask, frowning.
“Oh, sure. All microphones record sound a little differently so they impart their own sonic signature.”
“Cade thinks his vintage microphones are best,” Jan says. “I think they’re just annoying.”
“They’re not mine anymore,” Cade snaps at him.
“Go fix it!” Jan crosses his arms.
Finally, Cade throws his head back in disgust. “Fine. You’re such a lazy asshole.”
Without another word, Cade storms off. He reappears a second later in the rehearsal space and heads toward the back of the room where a big, oblong silver microphone is hung suspended over the drum kit.
“Fucking microphones,” Jan grumbles. “Always going bad.”
“Was it his idea to buy that in the first place?” I ask him.
He nods. “He loves all that stuff. If it were up to me, this would be totally modern, but he insists doing it the old way is better.”
I frown a little at him and hands him a coffee. He takes it and thanks me with a grunt before sipping it.
“Cade says he helped found this place,” I say.
Jan shrugs. “Sure. Way back when.”
“I didn’t know that was something he was into.”
“We had this grand vision,” Jan says almost bitterly. “We’d make the world a better place through music.”
“I guess you don’t think that worked out?”
“Oh, we did some good,” he says. “At least, we put out some good music for a while.”
“What happened?”
Jan raises an eyebrow. “You really have no clue, do you?”
“He won’t tell me.”
“Of course not. Cade loves his little mystery.” Jan watches as Cade opens up the body of the microphone and starts to fiddle around with something inside of it. “We were friends years ago.”
“Really?” I ask softly, prompting him.
“I actually didn’t know who his father was when we first met. He was just this smart guy that liked music as much as I did, and we got to talking, and, well… we became good friends. Eventually we opened this place up together.”
“Let me guess. He had all the money?”
“That’s right.” Jan grins a little bit. “I was the engineer and he was the businessman. We worked pretty good as a team for a while.”
“So what happened?” I ask him softly.
He glances at me. “You can ask him,” he says.
“He won’t tell me.”
“Try anyway. He’s not such a bad person underneath all that, but…” He trails off as Cade motions at him. Jan presses a few buttons and Cade’s voice comes through the monitors.
“Testing, testing, one two three, Jan smells like pickled eggs…”
“Got it,” Jan says into his microphone.
Cade grins and starts to put things back together.
“Always was better at fixing that stupid thing,” Jan grumbles and goes back to fiddling with his dials.
I sit back on the couch, thinking about what he said.
It’s hard to imagine Cade as a guy that opened a music studio. That just doesn’t seem like him. I always thought Cade worked for his father’s company forever and didn’t do anything but fire people and go to clubs.
But I guess he actually is a person beyond all of this…
Cade comes back and joins me on the couch. “Impressed?” he asks.
“Hardly.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’ll never admit how amazing you think I am, but I know the truth deep down.”
“Good to know,” I say, smiling despite myself.
The afternoon drags on like that and I just keep thinking about what Jan says. I don’t get a chance to talk to Cade about it until the jazz guys break for lunch. Jan disappears upstairs and Cade takes me into the recording space.
He sits down at the piano and pecks out a little tune. Takes me a second to recognize “Rocket Man”.
“You’re not bad at that,” I say to him.
He shrugs. “Should’ve practiced more.”
“Jan says you weren’t much of a musician.”
“He’s probably right.”
I bite my lip. “He says you two were friends. You two opened this place together.”
“Yeah?” Cade raises an eyebrow. “What else did he say?”
“I asked him what happened but he wouldn’t tell me.”
“It’s not too hard to guess.”
I hesitate just a second. “Your father.”
“Bingo.”
“What did he do?”
Cade turns to the piano and plays a soft song I don’t recognize. He’s actually pretty good at it. I sit down next to him on the bench and listen for a few minutes before he speaks again.
“You know what our mistake was?” he asks me.
“No, tell me.”
“We started making money.” Cade sighs, shaking his head. “If we’d stayed just some rinky-dink little studio, my father would’ve left us alone. But we started making some money and my father couldn’t abide that. Not his son, not something he didn’t control.”
“So he bought it.”
“Basically forced us into it. Bought the company we were leasing the space from and threatened to quadruple our rent if we didn’t sell. Jan’s always blamed me for that.”
“That’s why you two aren’t friends anymore?”
Cade stops playing abruptly. “No. That’s not entirely it.”
“What happened, then?”
Cade frowns at me. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess I like to think you’re a normal human, despite the way you act.”
He grins at me. “I’m a regular old Joe, all right.”
“So what happened?”
“Jan blamed me, I blamed Jan. We fought, said some shit we shouldn’t have, then really fought. You know, like two morons. Beat the shit out of each other.”
“You actually fought each other? That’s so juvenile.”
He cringes. “I know. We were so angry and we thought we were losing so much and…” He trails off. “Anyway, Jan stayed, I left. I haven’t been here in a long time.”
“So this must be pretty hard for you.”
He nods, looking away. “It’s not fun.”
“I’m sorry.”
He forces a smile. “It’s okay. It’s just my father fucking with me one last time.”
I nod and stare down at the floor. “So your father forces you into selling the one thing you bought on your own, ruins a friendship and a good business… and then forces you back there years later.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Wow.” I can’t help but laugh. “That’s really sick.”
He grins at me. “Yeah, I know. You wonder why I hate him?”
“No, I really don’t.”
He plays a few more bars on the piano before stopping and standing up. “Anyway, that’s my sob story. It’s not so bad, really. I convinced my father to leave Jan and the studio alone so they can basically run themselves however they want.”
“What will you do with this place when it’s all yours?”
He stares off at the control room for a second. “Probably give it to Jan for real.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It’s been his for a long time now. He deserves to really own it all.”
“That’d be good of you.”
“I
don’t expect us to ever be friends again. But I hope that’ll help a little bit.”
I want to talk more but the jazz guys are starting to come back. We have to leave the rehearsal space when Jan shoots us an annoyed glare through the control room window.
We head back to our couch and don’t talk about what he told me anymore.
But I can’t help seeing him in a new light. He had a friend… and that friendship was destroyed. Now his father is rubbing his face in it.
I don’t understand what sort of sick man would do this to his son. But it tells me a lot about Cade.
Just the fact that he’s not a totally insane and damaged human is a testament to his personal fortitude.
Maybe I can cut him a little bit of slack… at least for this trip.
11
Lucy
Monday rolls around and we finally have a day off.
“I’m going out.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Good for you,” I say. “Is that why you knocked at my door?”
He hesitates. “You’re not going to come with me?”
“Nope.”
He looks surprised. I thought he’d be happy, but he looks disappointed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. You can go have fun.”
“What happened to keeping me in check?”
“Well, I thought…”
He groans. “After you heard my sad story, you want to be nice to me, is that it?”
I wait a beat. “I mean—”
“I don’t want your pity. Go get dressed.”
I glare at him then glance down at myself. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Everything.” I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt and I think I look pretty cute. “Go get changed.”
I glare at him then slam the door in his face. I’m tempted to tell him to go to hell… but instead, I find a nice sweater, pull it on, and fix my hair.
I don’t know why I’m doing this. I don’t know why I care what he thinks or wants. I was going to let him have his own time alone, just a little break from each other, but apparently that’s out the window.
When I’m dressed and ready, I open the door again. He’s waiting patiently in the hall for me.
“I’m not changing again,” I grumble at him.
“Wouldn’t dream of asking you.”
We head downstairs together and I can’t help but wonder what this is all about. We grab some coffee then Cade takes me on a little walking tour.
“I lived here for a few years,” he says. “Those were good years.”
“Working at the studio?”
He nods. “I would be all over town promoting our artists and stuff while Jan was holed up in there recording the actual music. Then we’d meet up at night for the shows.”
“Sounds like fun. How long were you here?”
“Three years,” he says. “And I wouldn’t have left if it weren’t for my father buying us out.”
“Three years isn’t that long.”
“No, it’s not, but we blew up big time. I like to think it’s because of my hustle, but it’s probably because we just had a good synergy together.”
“He did the music, you did the business. Works out pretty well.”
He nods and absently puts an arm around my shoulders. I let him, feeling good as he pulls me against him. It’s a crisp fall afternoon and the trees are turning orange, the leaves getting crisp and starting to drift down onto the sidewalk.
“It was more than that. I made a lot of friends around town, knew a lot of people. I was able to get our stuff into stores, and then on the radio, and then…” He shrugs a little. “Believe it or not, I am very personable.”
“I believe it. You’re the perfect used car salesman.”
He laughs. “That’s what Jan said. Well, he called me a snake oil salesman, but same thing.”
I grin and let him lead me around. He points out a park he used to hang out in. “Way more drug addicts back in the day, I guess they cleaned up,” he comments.
He shows me a record store he frequented, although he didn’t know anyone working there anymore. He shows me a restaurant, a bar, his whole previous life.
“You really miss it here, don’t you?” I ask him as we sit down on a bench.
“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s like a whole different world, you know?”
“Still, you sound like you were happy.”
He shrugs. “I was young.”
“You weren’t that young.”
“Okay, I was younger.” He grins at me sideways. “But you’re right. Sometimes I miss it.”
“Have you ever thought about coming back? You don’t need to own your father’s company, you know.”
He gives me a strange look. “I know,” he says. “But I want it.”
“Why do you want it?”
I can tell I’m treading on dangerous territory. He frowns at me for a second like he can’t tell why I’m asking such a dumb question.
But it’s not a dumb question. I wish I could explain to him that his motivation for taking over this company is very, very important. If I’m going to hand him so much power, I need to know he’s not going to be another horrible CEO that just wants to drain the world of money.
“It’s mine,” he says softly. “My father tortured me for years, and now it’s time to take what I’m owed.”
“That can’t be your only reason.”
He looks away from me, out over at the trees, at the people walking past, living their own blissfully ignorant lives.
“My father bought up a lot of little guys,” he says softly.
“Like Jan?”
He nods. “Exactly. A hundred little Jans, all brought under the corporate umbrella. I want to set some of them free.”
“There’s no way you’ll be able to do that. I mean, won’t the board—”
“They can’t do anything about it,” he says. “Besides, I’ll call it something they’ll like. Restructuring or something like that.”
I purse my lips. I’m not totally sure I believe him, although I do believe that he’ll give the studio back to Jan.
“Come on,” he says, getting up. “Let’s get moving.”
“Where are we going?”
“My favorite place in the whole city.”
I follow him as we walk along some more. He keeps giving the tour although his heart doesn’t seem to be in it anymore. I watch him carefully, trying to see the man behind the mask, but it’s hard to get a glimpse of what he’s trying to hide.
Finally we end up turning a corner and standing outside of this Chinese-style building with characters written up and down the one side.
“What’s this place?” I ask him as he stops.
“This is the Lan Su Chinese garden,” he says with a grin. “It was built by Chinese artisans. It’s an authentic Ming Dynasty-style garden and I have to say, it’s pretty amazing. Come on.”
He leads me through the city block-sized garden full of covered walkways, bridges, open colonnades, pavilions, and even a man-made lake. Everything is in authentic Chinese style, with the sweeping beautiful arches and graceful curves.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks me as we sit on a bench beside the lake. Lily pads float in the water.
“Almost easy to forget we’re in Portland,” I say with a laugh.
“I know. It’s amazing. I don’t know why this place isn’t always packed.”
He’s right, it’s surprisingly empty. “Why is this your favorite place?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I think there’s something about how out of place it seems and yet totally authentic and real. I used to come here a lot and just sit by myself and watch the water.”
“Very Zen,” I say, grinning.
He laughs softly. “I guess so, yeah. I haven’t thought about this place until this morning.”
“And you wanted to bring me here?”
“I really did. I thought you’d like it.”
; We sit in silence for a little while and he’s right, I do like this place. It’s beautiful and there’s something odd about how out of place it seems.
It reminds me a lot of him. He’s surrounded by all this wealth and power and yet he seems to be a strange oasis in the middle of it all, still clinging on to what makes him a person.
I never in a million years would’ve thought I’d compare him to a Chinese garden, but here we are.
We sit and talk idly for a couple hours. He tells me stories from when he lived here, stories about the early days of the recording studio. “You would’ve liked it,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“It was a blast but we took it seriously. You know, business and pleasure.”
“They say those two things don’t mix.”
“Oh, we mixed them all the time.” He smirks at me, leans closer. “You don’t seem to mind mixing them.”
I blush. “If you’re talking about the other night—”
“You don’t have to say anything about it,” he whispers. “I know you want to make excuses.”
“I don’t, I just—”
“You want to act like it’ll never happen again. I know, I get it.” He smirks at me, so deliciously. He reaches down and tilts my chin toward him. “But we both know you haven’t stopped thinking about my fingers against your body.”
I bite my lip. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s wrong. I mean, we’re working together, I’m supposed to be overseeing you, I’m supposed—”
“You’re supposed to be the one with power. But every time I make you come, you’re giving a little bit of that power away.”
I blush and glare at him at the same time. “It’s not so crude.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think it might be.” He leans closer and I can smell him. I feel that thrill run through my body again. “You don’t have to fight it, you know. You’re still in charge.”
“You don’t think that.”
“I do… except for when my hands are on your body. Then I’m very much the one running things.”
I practically let out a soft groan when he tilts my chin up toward him. He kisses me softly, so fucking softly it sends a chill down my spine.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
“Don’t worry,” he says, standing. “Come on.”