Gus laughs at his skeptical expression. “For real. It’s him.”
He’s staring openly at me now but talking to his dad. “But he’s not wearing his mask. How do you know?”
“Ask him?” he prompts.
He leans on the arm of Gus’s chair, and his face enlarges as he gets closer to the screen. “Are you really Raven?” he whispers. The wonder in his voice is surreal, considering who his father is.
I nod. “I am.”
“Cool.” He’s still whispering, but his smile is massive. He’s missing two of his front teeth.
“Grace loves your music,” Gus says from behind him. “Whenever it’s his turn to pick what we listen to in the car, it’s always Treachery’s Riot.”
His little, rosy-cheeked, summer-tanned face nods.
“Okay, kiddo, I need to talk to Ever for a few minutes, and then I’ll be in. Can you do me a favor and put your clothes away, please? I washed a load this morning, and your clothes are sorted on the counter in the laundry room.”
“Sure,” he says, agreeably. And then he waves at us. “Bye, Raven. Bye, Mabel.”
“Bye,” we both say.
“He’s precious,” Mabel says after Gracen leaves.
Gus smiles wistfully, and it’s filled with pride. “He’s a good kid. I blame it on his mom and nana.”
After Mabel says goodbye, Jess, Soph, Lola, and Benji all say hi, and then I finally get to the reason for the call.
“Gus, I just wanted to say thank you. The post you made, and your support meant a lot. This business is hard, and I’ve felt pretty isolated, especially this past year. Everything was a battle with the second album and tour, and the label is a nightmare.” I pause because I’m rambling and complaining. “I don’t need to bore you with details, just know that your words were validating. I didn’t realize I needed that, but I guess I did.”
“I meant every word. I’m sorry to hear it’s been a struggle. I’m always here if you need to talk more about that later. This business can be fucking viscous; believe me, I know. Surrounding yourself with the right people is key to keeping a lock on your sanity. Your circle is what makes it survivable. And if you’re lucky, thriveable.” He chuckles at himself. “I’m running on a few hours’ sleep, and now I’m making up words, but you know what I mean?”
I nod. “Hard lesson learned, but yeah. This time will be different. Gonna take it slow and try not to misstep. My old label is an obstacle.”
“I get that. We’ve been doing this for over a decade now, and I’d be deluding myself if I thought we had it all figured out. But I will say, some of it has gotten easier. Franco and I have produced the last four albums ourselves, and we even started our own label last year. There’s comfort in that control that’s priceless. It’s a privilege we don’t take for granted. We’ve worked hard, but there’s also luck, you know?”
“Absolutely,” I agree.
“So, what’s the plan for you now? Is Treachery’s Riot really done?” When he asks, he doesn’t sound judgmental, just curious. It makes me wish I’d met him to have this conversation years ago.
“Yeah, except the label battle. I think it’s time to put that behind me. My vision changed, and I wanted to take the music in a different direction, but the label was unwilling to give me that freedom. I pushed the boundaries as far as I could, but without their support, it was futile. Playing with my brother has been fun but also opened my eyes to possibility. We have a blank canvas to work with now that we know we can work together and that we complement each other. I wanna see where that goes.”
He nods. “You found your circle. Are you guys writing?”
I look at Jess and nod for him to come sit next to me. “Jess has a few songs that we’ve performed, and I have a few in my head that haven’t seen the light of day yet but will soon. I’m in the process of renting a house right now. I think when we have a home base, the music will come quickly. Contractually, I can’t release anything for a year after my last album or my old label can lay claim. They’re trying to do that now with the songs Jess and I have performed the past few months anyway. They don’thave a leg to stand on, because they’re Jess’s songs, but they’re still being a pain in the ass.”
“You have a good lawyer?” he asks.
I feel like a fool when I admit, “No. My last attorney worked with the label and my ex-manager. Finding one is a priority.”
“I’ll have Scout send you the name of ours. We’ve been using her for a few years. She’s in Chicago, and she’s a fucking pit bull. If anyone can get them off your back, it’s her.”
I look at Soph, and she’s nodding, and I can hear her voice in my head saying,Yes, yes, yes.I look back at Gus. “Yeah, that would be great. I need to stop fucking around and hit this head-on.”
“Will do.” And then he shifts back to the music. “I mean, dude,” he shakes his head, “I went down the rabbit hole online with you for a few hours last night, and my blood was boiling. You’ve been through some shit. That either inspires or destroys. And you’re still standing; that’s a pretty good indicator you’re resilient as hell. That’s what fuels the best music. You go through hard stuff, it shatters you, and when you pick up the pieces, you put them back together as songs.”
“Your second album was like that, wasn’t it?” I ask.
He slips his sunglasses back down over his eyes and runs his hands through his long, tangled hair. “Yup. I didn’t think I’d write another song after I lost my best friend. It fucking killed me. That album was the phoenix rising. I think that’s what’s in store for you. Show the bastards they didn’t destroy you.”
