“Yes,” she laughs. “You’re the first person who’s figured that out before I got to this next part. In order to work here, it would require you to sign an NDA. Do you know what that is?”
“I think so,” I say. I watch enough TV to know a little, at least. “Basically, it’s a contract that says I have to keep my mouth shut if I don’t want you to sue the pants off me?”
“That’s the gist of it, yes. Because of the identity of my client, and the business that they do here, you may become privy to information that might harm my client’s career or public image. The NDA says that you will not divulge information regarding anything you see and do here, as it pertains to my client’s private interests and activities.” She is serious now. She’s either had this conversation a lot or she’s a lawyer. Or both. Either way, she is a boss bitch. “The identity of the client also cannot be divulged until the NDA is signed and a background check is completed.”
“Oh,” that makes this a little more difficult. I can’t know who this is unless I agree to work here. “Is there anything you can tell me about the environment, without telling me who this is, that can help me decide? I understand the need for privacy, but I don’t want to agree without some notion of what my time here would be like.”
“Of course.” She seems pleased that I won’t just jump in with no knowledge. “My client is very famous. They keep odd hours, so most of your work would happen later in the evening, or even in the middle of the night. They have occasional parties. They do work here, so the client’s coworkers would be in and out at all hours as well. Often you would need to prepare food for them as well. If they know they will be working extra long hours, they will let you know and are happy to eat food that you have prepared in advance. Aside from the fame they are fairly laid back, as are the friends, so you wouldn’t need to worry about any drama queen type tantrums you hear about in gossip magazines. Does that help you?”
I smile widely, nodding my head while I say yes. “That eases my concerns. If you are still interested, I would be happy to come on board.”
“Perfect.” Denise claps her hands together. “I will get the paperwork for you to fill out right now, and then you can go pack. We’ll plan for you to move in this weekend. Barring any problems with the background check, you will start Monday.”
She gets up and leaves the room. I guess I work here now. I get up and start familiarizing myself with the kitchen while I wait for Denise to come back. I wonder what my room looks like. Might as well get right to the important stuff. I send a text to Becca.
Me-I got the job. I’m moving out this weekend. Can you help? I’ll supply the pizza and beer.
Becca- I can’t say no to that. At least this time the move is planned in advance lol.
Me- Bitch <3
Chapter 19
Connor - Writing and Weird Pizza
“Denise called. She hired a new chef for me, but I have some bad news. The chef doesn’t start until Monday, which means we’re on our own for food for the weekend. You guys want to order in? Or actually go to a restaurant or some shit?” I’m fucking around with one of the guitars I keep in my home studio, just trying to work out a melody that’s been stuck in my head. “I don’t feel like being out in public, so I say we send Devon out to pick up sushi.”
“Fuck that,” Ryder complains. “I am not eating fucking raw fish tonight. I want some proper food. Burgers and fries, pasta, a whole turkey dinner. Hell, I’d even eat sandwiches over sushi today. I need something filling. I’m hungover and I’m pretty sure I’m starving to death.”
“You’re always hungover, dude,” Aiden jokes from behind his drum kit before giving himself a little sting (ba dum tiss) to cap off the joke.
“You can fuck off too,” Ryder shoots back. He can’t deny it, though. Out of all of us, he is the one who still does a lot of partying. He’s all business when it comes time to write and to perform, though. As long as he keeps his antics to his personal time, the rest of us don’t interfere with it. When it becomes a problem for the band, we might have to talk to him, but for now he has it handled. I worry about him sometimes, though. The rest of us seem to have grown up in the last 20 years, but he’s stuck, and I don’t know why.
“OK, no sushi then,” I concede. “What about pizza? I’ll send Devon over to this place near my gym. It doesn’t even have a name. The sign just says ‘PIZZA’ and it’s this little hole in the wall place. I finally tried it last time we were home, and it’s the best pizza I’ve ever had.”
“Sold!” yells Ryder. “Get me one with all the meat.” He thinks for a second, then adds, “And another one with ham and pineapple. For dessert.” Gross. He has such strange tastes. I don’t care what anyone says, pineapple does not belong on pizza.
The other guys chime in with what they want too. I call in the order, and Devon is on his way out the door. He grumbles a little about being an errand boy, but we enjoy having him around so we find things for him to do even when we don’t need security. He’s really our friend and could have been in the band if he’d had even a little musical talent. But he didn’t, so we made him security.
* * *
“Pizza!” Devon pokes his head into the studio, letting us know he’s back with food.
I don’t allow food in the studio, so we all get up and go to the kitchen to eat. Devon has already opened up all the boxes and taken plates out of the cupboard. Everyone takes a plate and then we all start grabbing slices.
“What. The fuck. Is this?” Travis is looking into one box with disgust on his face. “Is that… broccoli? And fucking cauliflower? What the fuck is this pizza?”
Devon laughs. “Oh yeah, that’s called the Lexi Girl. It’s apparently an ‘all the vegetables’ pizza. If you look closer, it also has cabbage and green beans on it. It’s pretty messed up, right?”
“Uh yeah, you could say that,” Johnny says, grabbing a piece of said messed up pizza, anyway. “But I’m not afraid, I’ll try anything once.”
“Why would you get that pizza, anyway? Pretty sure that wasn’t in our original order.” I decide I’ll try it too. Can’t let Johnny take all the risk.
“Keep that shit away from me,” Ryder says around a mouthful of his meat pizza. “I’m allergic to vegetables when I’m hungover. They’re just not greasy enough.” He laughs with his mouth still full of food. See? Still hasn’t grown up.
Devon grabs himself a slice of the Lexi Girl pizza in addition to the variety of other pieces he has stacked up on his plate. Dude is enormous and eats like it. He comes over and sits at the table with the rest of us. He immediately bites into the vegetable pizza.
“Shit, that is weird. But it’s good.” He says and takes another bite. When he’s done that bite, he drops a bomb. “That Alex girl from the show the other night, the one who beat her ex with an umbrella? She told me to get it. She said it’s her favourite. Apparently it’s named after her and everything.” He takes another huge bite, completely oblivious to the fact that the rest of us are staring at him. He finally notices our eyes glued to him.
