“Saskatoon, that’s right,” she repeated. “Sorry, man. Fucking Tommy has it on lockdown with that dipshit from the awards.”
“That guy sucks.”
“Yeah, he really does.”
“Thanks anyway,” she said, defeated. “I’m going to tell Sebastien about Jamespoke. He can’t stand that band.”
“Can’t stand them?” Allie sounded confused.
“It’s just a cash grab, like all his legacy acts.”
“Would you ever sign a band just for the money?”
“Never.”
“Me neither,” Allie said with certainty.
“I’d rather have one artist I’m in love with than ten mediocre acts.”
“Same,” she said. “See you in Toon Town.”
Tyler was about to give up on the awards when she received an email from Yestown’s producer. The subject line readbanger.
They’d finished recording Cary’s song.
Fuck my life up the butt.
She clicked on the track and played it again. And again. “Banger” was an understatement. Yestown had to play this song at the awards, but she would need Sebastien’s help.
Dammit.
A few minutes later Tyler knocked on her boss’s door. “Hello?”
“What?” he barked at the disturbance. “Do I look like Lionel Richie?”
You’re not as handsome . . . or talented.
She poked her head inside. “Have you got a minute?”
“What is it?” Sebastien grumbled, though he didn’t appear to be busy.
Tyler sat in the chair across from his desk, knowing it was risky. People didn’t sit in his office unless he’d invited them in, like the oldTonight Showcomedians.
“I need a favor, please?” she asked him politely. Being nice to him almost killed her, but it was necessary. He loved it when people kissed his ass.
He raised the bill of his baseball cap. “I’m listening.”
“I want Yestown to play on the awards’ live broadcast.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands on her lap. “I know there’s a slot left.”
Sebastien reclined in his chair and put his feet on the desk. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, his voice lingering. “I’ll help you if you help me.” A pending negotiation came from his nicotine-ridden breath.
“What is it?” she dared to ask.
He adjusted his baseball cap to its original position. “You and Cary are chummy, right?”
“I wouldn’t say chummy.” She drew her eyebrows inward. “But we’re friends, I guess?”
Werefriends, no apostrophe.
