"How do you know if it’s clear unless you asked her for an explanation?"
"Proof was in the photo."
"You don't really believe that." he says in disbelief.
"Of course I do.”
Yet even as I speak the words, I wonder for the millionth time if I was making a rash decision.
But what other explanation could there be?
Steven looks to where Prince Michael is involved in a long and heated conversation, and then to Keith, who is busy with his own phone. We’re too far away for our conversation to be overheard.
"This meeting with Midnight Records means a lot to me," Steven says. *”Our band doesn’t make all that much money, but whatever we have, we always put it by mutual agreement back into our business. Like partners. But you have to realize that our personal financial situations are different. Since we’ve been financing our own gigs, I’m flat broke.”
Steven pauses.
“And I don’t want to bother you with personal problems, but it turns out our mom is sick. Really sick. And her government insurance doesn’t begin to cover the smallest portion of it. I need to make money, big money, to support her. And maybe Maddie now that I found out her job is ending."
"Your mother?!" I say, shocked. Mrs. Smith was like a second mom to me when I was a kid. “What is it, Steven? Why didn’t you tell me before?"
"Just found out. If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t bring this up," he says.
We’re both silent for a moment.
"It’s a family affair. You don’t need to know all of it. But you do need to know I need to make money. And I intend on doing it.”
Steven stops speaking again. Another rush of thick, uncomfortable silence comes between us.
“Unfortunately, you have the looks in this band. The charisma. You’re the one the fans want. This meeting with Midnight Records will make us or break us. You can’t fuck up again.”
“What makes you think I’ll say or do anything during our meeting to ruin our chances with them? I want this as much as you.”
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page. Just remember, we’re not one person, Rio. We’re a band. And we’re a band that relies—for better or worse—on you."
I think about Steven's words. I can’t refute any of them.
They’re all true.
"Look," says Steven, actually taking my hand.
"We’re best friends. Tighter than most brothers. We did everything together since we were kids. We had all our 'first everythings' together. We know each other’s lives. We are a part of each other’s lives. But if you fuck this up? It's over for all of us. Keep that in mind during the meeting."
Prince Michael finishes the call and gives us a lecture, but it has zero effect on me.
Steven already said it all.
CHAPTER 39
RIO
When we get out of the elevator, I'm impressed at the extravagance of the Midnight Records lobby.
You’d think that after Las Vegas, I’d have seen enough glitz. But this sleek black on black decor isn’t phony. It shows they’re the best record label anyone could hope for.
A gorgeous receptionist appears in boots and a miniskirt. Probably like her counterpart a million years ago when the label was first founded.
"They’re waiting for you gentleman," she says, opening the door to the boardroom.
