G: No, smart ass.
L: Okay then.
G: Are you going to let me and Ares be friends?
L: Doubtful, especially if you sleep naked.
G: He better not bite me. Hey, what side of the bed do you sleep on?
L: And once again, why do you need to know?
G: So I don’t wake you, of course ;)
L: Really? *insert sarcasm here*
G: We can snuggle. *no sarcasm here*
L: Seriously?
After a while there are no more texts and Lincoln is in his own world as he drives. The radio is on, the volume down low, and Lincoln seems to have quickly mastered my Jeep and is reading the peace between us properly. I’m not sending out leave me alone vibes but at the same time, I’m not looking to chat either. Still, I feel bad. It’s the omega side of me.
“Lincoln, I’ve got some things I need to take care of. I’m putting my headphones on so I can focus. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Ares and I will get to know each other.”
Ares turned around in his seat and is lying over the centre console facing me. His ear flicks at the mention of his name, but he’s clearly not worried. And that’s probably got to do with how many times I talk to Lincoln or watch him on television, because Ares doesn’t trust easily or at all, actually.
“Don’t pat him. He’s not that kind of dog.”
“I gathered that, dove. We’ll be fine. It will probably take us about four hours from here, so you do what you need to.”
The four hours pass by in a flash. Admittedly, I have a heap of work to catch up on, including a lengthy email to Broken Cube. I was at their concert for a reason and not because I was fan-girling.
When I first signed Broken Cube, they were good. Exceptionally good. A pack of betas with barely enough money to buy gas to get to their gigs. I took them under my wing, and gave them everything they needed to succeed, and I mean everything; money, instruments, singing coaches, backup dancers and more gigs than they ever imagined. Then they started getting distracted by all the things I’d warned them about, money, sex, and drugs. At our first formal end of year review, the cracks were starting to show, and I dropped everything to get them back on track. By the time our fourth anniversary rolled around, we’d made a deal to refocus on the music and not the partying, but yeah, Gus and I were the only ones who kept up our side of the bargain.
My ass on the top of the speaker last night was proof I’m still keeping my side of our agreement, despite the lies they keep spouting. I’m not sure what it is, maybe because we don’t catch up face-to-face, so they figured I’d miss all the latest bullshit, and I wish I had. Honestly, seeing them play last night was bad. It was ridiculously easy to skip past their security to sit on the wings off stage on one of the huge speakers. I looked like a groupie, dressed in one of their band hoodies and my skinny jeans. And nothing like their agent. But the fact of the matter is, if I can get past their security, anyone could. Sadly, that was just one issue that was highlighted after last night.
Up on the speaker the sound was cleaner, letting me hear them better, which was both a good and a bad thing. Even over the roar of the mosh pit and the high pitch squealing of their actual groupies, Broken Cube were treating the sold-out crowd to a fucking awful set.
Spencer, their enigmatic lead singer, looked and sounded like shit. The band were lucky I’d been so insistent about Gus stepping up and spending more time at the front of stage or the crowd would have started throwing empty bottles at them even before the first song was done. Although sometimes I think that’s what they need: to feel the crowd’s disappointment and disgust, because they keep ignoring everything I keep telling them.
The number of times I have heard their half-ass excuses about why they screwed up is nearly sitting at over a hundred. Their latest excuse is that I’m the one out of touch, I’m the one letting the group down. Honestly, the first time Fez, the bass player said it, I laughed so hard I disconnected our conference call, and it took them repeating it back as soon as I rang through again to realise they were dead serious. Me being out of touch? Oh, please.
Whenever they use it now, and they use it a lot, it still gets me fired up, but we had a deal. As much as I want to walk away, I promised them I would always stand by them. And that is not going to change, not on my watch.
I warned Spencer the band would start falling apart if he didn’t go straight into rehab. Did I feel good about reminding them about them breaching the illicit substance clause in our contract? Not really, but at the same time, it’s good for them to remember who is in charge here. My ethos is go do what you want in your spare time, but the minute you walk on that stage or wherever you do your work, I own you. You start screwing things up off stage, and those things start impacting what you do, of course I’m going to be pissed off.
Re-watching the footage of their performance tonight is hard work. By the time Broken Cube started pumping the chords at the beginning of their third song, I’ve already finished writing my email to them, attaching the footage of Spencer singing into the wrong mic and the one of him and Fez slurring into the correct one while they both castrate their latest hit. Hitting the send button, there’s a part of me that knows only Gus will check for my feedback straight away; the others will be getting as fucked up as they can. Still, I send out a group text to Broken Cube, asking them to check their email.
Sadly, our working relationship is past the point of being friendly. I don’t make any additional comments in my group text except for the one line about check in time at Unity Heights and my expectation that Spencer actually shows up this time.
I hate threatening people, but it goes with the territory.
I feel Lincoln checking on me intermittently, but I keep working for a while longer. Nights are my busiest and my clients are used to me contacting them at all times. I guess it says a lot about how I really feel around Lincoln when I rest my head against the glass and close my eyes. The roll of the car and the hum of the road adds to the peace as he drives and I let myself drift off.
6
LENNON
