I nod thoughtfully. “I hope you’re right.”
“Hey, listen, what’s your schedule look like next week?” he asks.
I look at Jess, and he shrugs. I look behind me at Soph, and she does the same.
“Other than just trying to find our footing, we’re taking it one day at a time,” I answer.
“Why don’t you guys come out to San Diego for a few days? We can get in the studio and play around with a few of your songs with Franco. I’d love to work with you on your debut album when the time comes if you think our label would be a good fit. No pressure, just come hang out with us and see how you feel. And Sophie, you come too. My wife, Scout, has been our manager for the past eight years. You two can talk shop.”
I feel like I may pass out. While Gus sits there offering up our dream so casually, like he’s discussing the weather.
I look at them both, and they’re nodding vehemently.
Soph says, “If I have to sell a kidney to buy my plane ticket, I will.”
“For the tenth time, bitch, you can have one of mine,” Lola shouts from somewhere behind us.
Gus laughs. “We’ll take care of the flights, just coordinate with Scout. You have her cell, right?”
“We emailed this morning. I don’t have her cell, but?—”
He cuts her off. “Texting is her jam. All the better if they’re voice messages, she loves those.” He rattles off her cell number, and Soph jots it down on the blackboard on the wall.
“Lola and Benji, you’re welcome to come too.” Then he raises his voice. “And Mabel, you better bring me some of those brownies!”
Mabel answers while she pops the pan in the oven. “Only if you’ll bake them with us! Lola and I have a baking YouTube channel!”
Gus claps his hands once. “Hell yeah, let’s do this!”
Lola squeals and says, “Soph, if this is a dream, don’t you dare wake me up.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Well, I guess it’s settled. We’ll see you next week.”
“Right on. Looking forward to it. Call or text if you need anything before then.”
“Will do. Thanks, Gus.”
“Anytime. Peace out, everyone.”
A chorus of “Bye,” “Later,” and “See you soon” rings out before I end the call.
I look around in disbelief and ask, “Did that really just fucking happen?”
thirty-one
“I will needto review your contract. Please email it along with any communication you’ve received since your final performance: texts, emails, letters, social media messages, and phone calls, if they were recorded. I need to see it all to decide, but I think, given everything you’ve shared with me today, that a cease-and-desist letter is in order. Please send any paperwork associated with your brother’s band, as well. We need to rule out culpability. If you have articles of organization or an operating agreement to prove you are not a legal member of the organization, that would be helpful.”
“Sophie has everything ready to go. We’ll email it as soon as we get off this call,” I say. My posture is ramrod straight, and I’m sitting on the edge of my seat.
“Very good. We will make this a priority. I know this is time sensitive and you’re eager to put a halt to the harassment,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“I am. Thank you, Ms. Banks.”
“We’ll talk soon. Good day, Mr. St. Clair.”
“Bye.”
The call disconnects immediately from her end, and I look at Soph, eyes wide. “Why do I feel like I’m ten years old and was just in the principal’s office about to get suspended for something I didn’t even do?”
