“Let’s get this meeting done, shall we? I want to talk set lists for the first few shows. After that, we’ll discuss targets for the next album. I want to see what you have so far, and you can talk me through your process.”
“I’m not talking you through my process,” Calix said.
This whole thing was going just swimmingly. How the hell could I manage a band that didn’t want to be managed? Who would even sign up for something like that? Oh. Right. I did. My cell beeped in my pocket, announcing an incoming email, and I tookthe distraction it offered. It was from payroll, informing me that my first payslip had been submitted.
I was officially not broke.
Turning away from the combination of surly, lustful, apologetic, and blank stares of the band, I pulled up my banking app and sent through the payment to the nurse for Ma and Dad. Relief vibrated through me as the payment confirmation flashed across my screen, and it was with a renewed sense of purpose that I turned back to the men who weregoingto toe the line whether they wanted to or not.
“We’re going out,” I announced, ignoring both Calix’s immediate refusal and the way Toby jumped up like he was ready to party.
I’d googled resources for dealing with addiction the night before, after Otis left, and downloaded an audiobook by some guy called Gabor Mate. I hadn’t completely ruled out the idea of going to a Nar-Anon meeting, either. The image of Toby the way I’d met him the day before had haunted my sleep when I wasn’t stressing that I’d fucked up with Otis already. The logical part of my brain told me I’d done the right thing. Getting into a relationship with the bassist of the band I’d just been hired to work with had trouble written all over it. But the emotional part of my brain, which still felt the sting of everything Adam put me through, wondered if I shouldn’t have just taken the opportunity to see what it felt like to be desired.
Shaking off the thoughts, I led the band out to their van and held my hand out for the keys.
“No chance,” Calix said, skirting around me so he could slide into the driver’s seat. “Sit shotgun and give me directions, if you have to, but I’m driving.”
I shrugged and did as he asked. If this was going to work, we needed to find a way to do a little give and take. He might fight me at every turn, but if I was going to get all four of them through the tour, I’d have to learn to pick my battles.
As we navigated through downtown, Calix cast me increasingly distrustful looks until I insisted we pull over in a rundown part of the city. I knew how it looked, and I could have immediately set their minds at ease. Despite appearances, it was a relatively safe area. Instead, I gave Calix a shit-eating grin and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Toby followed first, his eyes fixed on me as he scratched absently at his arm. His hair was a mess, and a slight sheen of sweat glistened on his brow despite the cool breeze. Otis came next, his golden curls appearing in the open car doorway. Harvey was slower to emerge, his eyes darting around the street like he was prepared for anything from paparazzi to assassins.
As soon as Harvey straightened, I strode off. I wouldn’t wait for Calix to grace us with his presence, nor was I going to listen to him tell me how much he didn’t trust me. I’d prove my worth in time. For now, I would make them participate in a team-building exercise that would give me a sense of their performing styles.
Whether they wanted to or not.
Half a block away was a sign I couldn’t read. It was written in Mandarin, that was all I knew, but the language barrier had never mattered. It was the best Chinese restaurant in the state, in my opinion, and on Tuesdays there was another drawcard.
“I challenge you to Cringe Karaoke,” I announced as we were shown to a large round table in the middle of the room.
The restaurant was quiet at this time of day, staff milling about chatting or cleaning in preparation for the lunch rush. Near the door that led into the kitchen, a small, raised area of flooring had been set up as a stage with an old karaoke system for customers to show off their skills.
“What the hell is cringe karaoke?” Harvey asked, eyeing the setup like it might be carrying disease.
I snorted, thinking of what Otis had told me about his extracurricular activities. Harvey was definitely not a germaphobe.
“We take turns deciding on a karaoke song for each person. When your song comes up, you need to give the best performance you can. Extra points for cringiness. After everyone’s turn, the winner will be decided by popular opinion.”
Calix snorted, fingering a red Chinese lantern that hung above the table. He was so freaking tall, he could have walked into it if he wasn’t paying attention. But he was always paying attention, and his expression said he was less than impressed with the turn the day had taken. Well, screw him. He hadn’t tried the sweet and sour pork.
Actually, maybe it would improve his mood a little.
“There’s no point in the competition. We all know who will win.”
His smirk said everything about his opinion on the others’ chances.
“We’ll ask the staff to vote. That way there’s no bias. Also, don’t get too cocky. You haven’t heard me sing yet.”
It was a bluff. My singing had been compared to a dying cat in the past. Thanks, Ruby. But he was so damn smug.
“We’ll see,” was all he said as he wandered up to the stage and returned with a binder full of song options.
A waiter came to take our order, and despite the language barrier, I managed to request their services as judge while also securing fried rice and egg rolls.
We acquired a book of matches to draw straws for the first performance, and then we began.
Otis drew the short straw and started us off with a really freaking good rendition of Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me”. His voice didn’t have the same quality that Calix’s did, but he was pitch perfect, and he carried the notes with a quiet confidence. I felt a small pang of guilt listening to the lyrics, but how arrogant would it be to assume he was pining for me after one afternoon together? Besides, Harvey had picked the song for him.
