We would only have to talk to my parents first, so it wouldn’t become a problem later, but I was ready to do that once they returned. But that wouldn’t happen for another twenty-four hours.
“The problem is,” Alex said, letting go of my ankles and bringing both his hands to my left foot. With all his strength, he pressed both his thumbs into my sole, making me wince. “This shit’s expensive.”
“Ouch,” I howled, but as he adjusted his grip, the sharp sting turned into the sweetest pain. “You’re mean.”
He grinned and kept going as I flopped back onto the mattress.
“So, how much are we talking?” I asked. “For the mastering, I mean?”
“Depends on who we hire, but think one to five hundred dollars.”
“That doesn’t sound too expensive.”
“That’s per song.” He released my left foot and moved on to the other, pressing into the exact spots that made me clench my fists and grit my teeth to endure the sweet pain. “And we’re only talking about mastering here. If we want to make some revisions or re-record the vocals with proper studio equipment, it can add up fast.” His thumbs glided down my sole before his fingers moved over my ankle and up my leg. “So, unless we spend all my savings or your inheritance, I guess it’s going to be hard.”
He slumped onto the mattress between my feet, his hand ending up suspiciously close to my bulge. I patted the back of his head.
“You shouldn’t burn all your savings on this. I can’t either. I’ve got about five thousand dollars saved, but that’s more of an emergency fund. As you know, my dad’s very insistent that people should make it on their own and not rely on inheritance. If I hadn’t saved up miles on my credit cards, I wouldn’t even be here right now.”
“Sounds like your dad.” He rested his chin on the blanket, his eyes first settling on my bulge, then moving to my face. “How about crowdfunding? It’s a long shot, but it could work.”
“We’d need incentives for that, not just the finished files. Like hard copies, or giving people the option to come to a concert.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “We could think about doing one in Las Vegas. There are smaller venues that’ll let anyone play as long as you can draw a crowd.”
“Vegas,” Alex tilted his head, an incredulous look on his face. “Wow.”
“It would certainly attract more people than Seastone—or at least people who might become actualpayingfans, not just people who show up because they know us.”
“Vegas,” Alex said again. He let the thought settle for a moment before sitting up. “Okay. Why not?”
“If you want, I’ll run it by Nora. She’s got some connections, and I think she’d be more than happy to pull some strings for us.”
“Could we maybe set up a video call with her so I can properly meet her at least once before she becomes our manager?”
I had almost forgotten that they had only interacted for about three seconds when Nora crashed one of our calls. “Sure, but only when I’m back in Vegas. I’m not sharing the last few hours of my precious Alex-time with anyone else.”
“Oh, stop.” Alex shook his head and sat back down in front of his laptop. “You know, if we want to release anything, we should get back to work.” He clicked around in the file he had been working on before I distracted him. “By the way, we also need a band name.”
“What about the one you’ve been using until now?”
“You meanBrodie? That’s just my last name.”
“That…huh. I hadn’t thought about that. I guess your last name is perfect for a musician.”
“Yeah, I’ve always liked it too, but I don’t think I want to use it for the band. I’d rather find something that fits us both.”
“Fair enough. But let’s put that on the back burner for now. We can brainstorm names over the phone, too.”
“We’ll find something,” Alex said, and it took him about half a nanosecond to be fully absorbed in the song again.
The playback floated through the room, pausing every few seconds and restarting from the beginning, as he fine-tuned a synthesizer.
He looped four seconds of the song, making the short clip sound like a strange techno remix. His brows knit together as he brought his ears closer to the monitor.
“Mind if I crank up the volume for a second?”
“Not at all.”
He turned the knob on his studio monitor, bringing the loop to an almost ear-shattering volume, which made me wonder how his sensitive ears could handle it. Then again, when it came to music, he was different.
