“The bald cap makes me sweaty.”
“Then you wear the wig cap like Myra suggested,” I say, then look back at Blake, redirecting the conversation. I’m about ninety-five percent sure Ari’s excuse is bullshit. Will has been in a mood lately, but that seems like a petty reason to be so on edge. “What’s the word?”
“The storm is supposed to get pretty bad tomorrow night. NOLA is battening down the hatches. There’s no other choice but to cancel the show.”
Everyone deflates in a series of groans, heavy sighs, and curses.
Our annual Halloween concert is not only our favorite because it’s so much fun, but it’s also one of our top charity events of the year. The concert is live-streamed, and people make live donations throughout the set. Large donations get on-screen shout-outs and song requests, plus we let the audience make one-dollar votes for what songs we play as we go, based on social media polls run by our PR team. It’s something we started three years ago and has become a huge social media event. Last year we raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for The Trevor Project. It’s a huge loss.
Everyone is silent for a few minutes, processing having to cancel our best event of the year, and trying to think of a miracle solution.
“Can we reschedule? It won’t be Halloween night, but this is our last full concert until after the holidays. All we have next month is a bunch of promo and a studio block. There’s got to me something we can move around,” Naz says.
Mr. Hebert, the venue manager, chimes in. “I have an idea, if it’s alright.”
Blake gestures for him to go ahead. “Let’s hear it, Vic.”
“We have a hold for next weekend, but I think I could persuade them to work with us if the band might be willing to let them co-sponsor the concert.”
“Who is it?” Blake asks.
“Have you heard of theWavesapp?”
“No way,” Ari and Will say simultaneously.
“That’s actually kind of perfect,” I say.
“I thought so, too,” Mr. Hebert says. “Would you like me to put out a feeler?”
“Yes,” I say, echoed by Naz, Will, and Ari.
Blake says, “Hold on.”
“Call PR, and if they don’t tell you to jump on this opportunity immediately, I’ll never talk back to you again,” I say. “Wavesa progressive social media company. They’re new but growing fast enough that they’re showing real promise of competing with the big companies.”
“They were just in the news for turning down a massive payout from Nark ‘My Skin Suit Is Itchy’ Fuckerbird,” Gage says. I flinch a little because I forgot he was here.
“They’re legit, and align with a lot of what we’re about,” Naz says. “They’d be a huge boost to the concert, and we’d actually be contributing to their success as well.”
“Which is why I feel very confident that they’ll want to collaborate,” Mr. Hebert says.
“Okay,” Blake says. “See what they say, and I’ll do a little research before pitching it to PR.”
Mr. Hebert nods excitedly and lifts his phone to his ear on his way out the door. Blake pulls out his laptop, and we all shuffle to make room for him on the small sectional. He does some basic internet searches to read about the company.
“The social platform where music and activism collide. Make waves, be heard,” he reads out loud.
Ari hands him his phone. “They’ve already got over ten million followers.” Blake thumbs around the app, looking mildly impressed. “All of us and the label have accounts with several million followers.”
Blake hands Ari’s phone back. “I hate social media, but I might download this one just based on their mission statement and activism.”
Mr. Hebert bursts into the room, looking flushed and excited. “They’re in! Zero questions.” He hands a sticky note to Blake. “That’s the number to call for their events management team. They’re waiting to hear from you.” He looks at all of us. “Kit Quinley, one of the co-founders, is a huge fan, and they are very much looking forward to meeting all of you.”
“Alright,” Blake says, standing. “Let me make a few calls and make sure the label is on board. Then we can start getting things in motion.”
Gage gets up to follow him out. “Cory just texted that they ordered pizza. Want me to grab a couple for y’all?”
“Hell. Yes,” Naz says. “See if they got any with–”
