1
When a Grammy Award-winningrockstar with three double Platinum albums and a place in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame does a favor for you it’s generally considered rude not to accept it. Unfortunately, the favor wasn’t hooking me up with Adam Lambert or arranging a jam session with Dave Grohl; it was this—sit downs with a bunch of A&E reps from some of the biggest record labels in the business.
I know most musicians would kill for an opportunity like this, but I’ve never been remotely interested in tying myself to a record label. The mere thought of surrendering control of some of the most important aspects of my life is suffocating.
But these meetings are part of my best friend’s hair-brained scheme to convince me to move to LA; and because Star has her dad—the aforementioned rockstar, Lenny Bryant—wrapped around her finger, I’ve kind of been forced to just go along with it.
I’ve missed Star like crazy since she left New York about eighteen months ago so despite my lack of interest in themeetings I figured it’d be worth coming out here to see if the Los Angeles lifestyle appealed to me, even if it were only on a part time basis. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t, and after nearly three weeks I’m more than ready to pack it in and head home.
“So…Jazz. That’s short for Jasper, right?” Matt Barnard, one of the A&R reps at Keystone Records and the guy heading this meeting, asks from across the boardroom table.
I nod. “Yeah, that’s right.”
Matt’s mouth curves up at the edges. “Well, we’re off to a great start already. That’s an awesome name for marketing.” He casts a brief glance down the table to a woman who I’m assuming is from the marketing team based on the encouraging nod she gives him.
I can’t help letting out a derisive snort at the comment. “Why don’t we save marketing discussions until after you convince me to sign?” I suggest. “If you manage it, that is.”
Matt blinks at me a few times, clearly startled by having the tables turned. The other reps exchange puzzled looks, and next to me Star, who’s here as my self-appointed manager, lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“And I takeit they couldn’t convince you?” Dad asks wryly when we FaceTime a few hours after the meeting. It’s after seven pm in New York so I’m not surprised to see him bustling around the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner.
I let out a harsh scoff. “Fuck, no. It was the same as the other meetings—it’s like they couldn’t get over the audacity of someone being reluctant to sign their life away.”
Dad’s lips twitch with barely contained amusement. “Is it okay for me to say I’m relieved? Obviously I’d be thrilled for you if signing with a label and living in LA was something you wanted, but I’d much rather have you here in New York.”
“I’d much rather be in New York too,” I grumble.
Dad arches a brow at me. “Well, there’s an easy solution to that.”
I let out a groan of frustration, raking a hand through my hair. “Easier said than done. It’s Star’s birthday on Thursday night, so obviously I need to be here for that. And Lenny’s organized backstage passes for the Juicebox show in San Diego next week,” I add, referencing the band Star’s dad has been playing lead guitar for since the late eighties.
“Ah, now that brings back memories,” Dad says, a wistful smile on his face. “Your mom and I saw them at a festival in…shit, ’92 it must have been—it was only a couple months after we started dating. It was scorching hot all day, but then it started bucketing down and your mom was wearing this white dress.” He shakes his head in wry amusement, his face splitting into a broad grin. “I had to give her the shirt off my back just to keep her decent.”
My head is suddenly filled with the sound of Mom’s easy, contagious laugh as a memory surfaces of her sharing this same story with my sister Piper and me. I can hear her voice and remember her words as clearly as if she were standing in front of me right now—one of the perks of an audiographic memory.
I let myself bask in the sound for a moment before carefully filing the memory away in my mental data bank; I don’t want to risk triggering something far less pleasant. That’s the downside of a memory like mine—traumatic experiences are preserved just as well as happy ones.
I don’t mention the recollection to Dad, because I don’t want to see the unreserved joy currently lighting his face disappear. In the almost ten years since her death I don’t think I’ve seen him talk about Mom without a shadow of grief and heartbreak marring his features, so this is nice to see.
As is generally the case when I chat with Dad, the conversation soon moves onto my little sister, Izzy, who is easily the most amazing person I know. She’s five years old and has Down Syndrome, and the past three weeks are the longest I’ve ever been away from her. As much as I love hearing about her latest OT triumphs and kindergarten antics, I hate having to hear it second-hand and on delay. This more than anything is the reason Star’s plan was doomed to fail from the start. There’s just no possible way I could bear to live so far away from my little girl.
I drawin a deep sigh as I follow my friends through the packed club to the staircase that leads up to the VIP area. It’s so dark I can barely see, but fortunately Star’s white dress is glowing like a beacon leading the way.
A loud, heaving club is so not where I want to be right now, but it’s Star’s birthday, which means tonight’s festivities are all about her. And Star Bryant will never turn down an opportunity to be seen at one of LA’s hottest clubs.
Fuck, I’m so done with LA. I want to be back in New York. I want to spend time with my family, and get back to my nights of strumming out nineties classics in the bar I inherited from my mom…
We’re let into the VIP room, which is mercifully quieter than the main club downstairs, and my friend Cody leads the way to a pair of small sofas. He takes a seat on one side, Star’s boyfriend, Marco, takes the other side, and Star settles onto his lap. Marco immediately snakes his arms around her in a gesture that’s way more possessive than affectionate. I roll my eyes. The guy’s a douche and way too insecure to be dating someone with the kindof profile of Star Bryant. But whatever; not my life. I sit opposite them, my friend Jace moving in next to me.
We’ve barely sat down when a server comes over to take our drink orders. Star doesn’t hesitate in ordering a bottle of Gray Goose for the group.So, it’s going to be one of those nights…
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and tug it out.
Piper Grimsay
When are you coming home?
I let out a little snort. I’m sure I’ve mentioned at least three times I’ll be staying out here for Thanksgiving seeing as how it’s only three weeks away. I swear she never listens to anything I tell her.
