Their next tour was starting in a little over three weeks. They needed to prepare the setlist and warm up the engines. But the atmosphere was so laid-back in this room that had witnessed the creation of so many songs, none of them seemed to want to get their asses up.
“Seriously,” Erik said as the rest laughed, “it was so damn embarrassing. The surfing season it’s supposed to be from November to March, so I was getting small waves, but I couldn’t, for the life of me, stand up on the stupid board.”
“And Julia’s still dating you after such a pathetic show?” Chris quipped.
“Well, my motor skills definitely suck for surfing, but I’m great at synchronizing other things.” The drummer wiggled his brows.
“Of course—” The guitarist jumped in his seat beside Marc when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. “Jesus!” he said as he got it out. “Oh.”
“What is it?” Leah asked.
“It’s the Blonde Tornado.”
Angie, who they affectionately called Blonde Tornado, was their agent. They weren’t that big of a band yet, but a few years before, when they had gotten serious about touring, after seeing one of their performances, the management company she worked at had contacted them.
Gunther, their artist manager, and two other guys had built The Other Dimension from scratch, adding an extra bright spark when Angie joined them. And thank God they had them. Yeah, they took a bite of their revenue, but it was more than fair, given that they dealt with the boring and most tedious part of the biz.
As former musicians, the three men knew the ins and outs of the industry well enough to not let their bands get ruined by contracts that tied them to record labels for a lifetime. They were counselors and negotiators, but above all, they were guardians, always looking after the band’s interests first. Angie, as a booking agent, was in charge of the networking and scheduling their tours, with a side of annoying the shit out of every venue owner and promoter out there.
“What’s up, Angie?”
“Hey! I was calling Erik, but he’s not picking up. I thought he was already back?”
“And he is,” Chris said, glancing at the drummer, whose brow furrowed in a questioning scowl. “Wait, gonna put you on the speaker.” Tapping on the icon with his thumb, he spoke again, “We’re all here, in the rehearsal room.”
“Good to know you’re working your asses off.” Her smile was obvious on the other end of the line. “Have you seen the email I sent you all?”
“I saw it this morning, but I haven’t read it yet,” Marc told her.
“I figured. Ha! That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Is there something wrong?” Leah wondered.
“No, not at all, cupcake. I’m just calling you to see if we can set a date for you to come to the office before you leave for Australia.”
“What’s with all the secrecy?” Chris asked.
“It’s… a surprise. That’s why I’m not telling you now. I wanna see your faces when we tell you.”
“So it’s a good thing…” Erik said. “Related to a gig, I’m guessing, since it’s you calling us and not Gunther?”
“Always my smart boy…” She laughed. “It is agreatthing.”
“Okay, so…” Marc trailed off as he got his phone out. “These next couple of weeks we’re gonna be kinda busy rehearsing the new setlist and all, but…” He scrolled through his agenda. “I’m taking this Friday off. Would that work for you, guys?” he asked, raising his head and waiting for his bandmates to speak.
“I’m not going back to work till November.” Erik shrugged.
“I don’t think I have any deliveries that day, and if I have a commission, I can always rearrange my schedule,” Leah said.
“For me, it depends on the hour.” Chris fidgeted with his phone. “I have two appointments on the sixth. But as long as I’m free by ten in the morning, it’s fine.”
“Angie?” Erik called.
“I was just checking, and yeah. I have a bunch of meetings the previous day, but it seems I was smart enough to clear my agenda for Friday.” She cackled. “And I don’t think Gunther will have any issues.”
“It better be good, Ang,” Chris said. “You know how much I hate getting up before nine.”
“It is. It is. I promise. So… Eight thirty here at the office?”
