Chapter 5
Chapter five
Drake – Miami
Matty’s phone call made me fucking late.
Ugh. The guys were waiting for me in the van Jinx had rented for our use while we were here.
The Midnight Hunt guys were doing so much for us, the God-damned least I could do was be on time.
But no. Matty wanted to wish me luck, and his last-minute call took me too long to hang up.
That man did that to me every single time.
He turned my brain into mush and my dick into a steel fucking rod.
“Hurry the fuck up, man.” Finn tossed his head back, long blond hair falling around his head, while Gonzo silently slid over and patted the seat next to him.
I sat by our big drummer and glared at Finn, daring him to give me any more shit.
Which was all he needed to encourage him. “Actually, I don’t think you even lasted fifteen minutes…so much for sexy time…”
Gonzo snorted, and I elbowed him while simultaneously flipping off Finn.
“Knock it off, ladies,” Tank grumped. “This is an important day. I’m sure Drake needed to share it with Matty.”
“Oh, he shared something with Matty, I’m sure.
” Finn couldn’t help himself; he was a joker at heart, but this wasn’t helping my frustration with my boyfriend who was still in Vegas.
Since we’d left, he’d called me all the fucking time, always very positive and upbeat, but never stopped asking when he could come out to Miami.
And I didn’t exactly want him here. We hadn’t been exclusive until I came out here, but Matty’d always acted like we were since the beginning.
I thought it was his way of making me feel special when we were together, now I wasn’t so sure.
I’d been thinking about our relationship for months, especially while we were apart.
I wanted to be more, but I didn’t know how everything would work, and now I didn’t know what the hell Matty expected from me.
And I sure as hell didn’t know if I could give it to him.
I contemplated the situation on the way to the studio while Finn picked a different target. Poor Tank. Our quiet bassist always took the ribbing in stride. We all did. It was just how we rolled.
The van pulled up to the studio’s security gate.
After the driver punched in the code, it opened wide, letting us enter the world of Midnight Hunt.
Whatever I’d been expecting, I was wrong.
It seemed ordinary. Hell, it could have been an auto repair shop or a warehouse or something, just a long white squat-body building.
But when we entered the front door, that’s where it changed.
We couldn’t see inside through the heavily tinted windows, but they hid a large reception and lounge area, and behind that there was a break room with a kitchenette. That’s where Cat was waiting for us.
Cat McPherson was a legendary producer. A goddess behind the mixing board.
We were honored to be working with her and Wolf on this project.
“Hey, guys. Come in here. Grab some coffee or water or something.” She waved to the fridge and the long counter beside it, where a coffee maker brewed some caffeine elixir. “Make yourselves at home. I’m Cat.”
“Oh, we know. Nice to meet you for sure.” Finn flashed his flirty face.
She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “You must be Finley Linville.”
“You’ve heard. Yes.”
She smiled and shook her head. “More like warned. And so you know, I’m not putting up with any bullshit from you.” Her words were hard but delivered with a sweetness that we couldn’t be mad at, especially when Gonzo snorted loudly.
“She’s got your number, Finn. We’ll try to keep him in line. I’m Gonzo.”
“Nice to meet you.” She shook Gonzo’s hand. “Michael Reynolds, right?” She looked at him sideways as if she wasn’t sure. I suspected she knew precisely.
But Gonzo smiled and nodded. “I prefer Gonzo.”
“Noted. And that leaves Drake Puckett and James Clifford.” She pointed at me, then at Tank.
“Just Tank, please.” He shook her hand.
“Got it. And Drake? You have a nickname?”
“Nope. Just Drake.”
“Alright then. Now that all of that bullshit’s out of the way…” She picked up a clipboard from the counter. “We want to start off by warming up on, uh…” she looked over her notes. “Frontman. Wolf noted that one has potential. Let me show you where we make the magic, boys.”
She led us to the hallway, pointing out the conference room, then ushering us into the actual studio.
It was what I imagined with two areas partitioned off by glass.
One side for the musicians to play, and the other for the producers to record and direct and whatever else the fuck they did.
What was different or unusual, at least to me, and not that I had any experience, but the musician side was large.
Enough to put our entire band and a few more people as well.
There were instruments hung on the walls and a full drum set kitted out near the back. All of it sat on a plush carpet.
“Where’s Wolf?” Tank asked, eyeing a pretty red bass.
“They have a special show out in Vegas.”
“That’s ironic as fuck.” Finn huffed and opened up his guitar case. “I can use my own, right?”
“Of course.” Cat waved a hand toward the various equipment around the room. “Or help yourselves. This is about being creative.”
With a nod, Tank picked up the guitar he’d been salivating over. “Cherry…” he mumbled, plugging it into a nearby amp.
It was interesting that our sponsor band was playing in our hometown while we were in theirs. But Midnight Hunt’s show had to be arena-sized huge, not the shitholes Star Fly had been playing in.
A few minutes later, we had everything set up and ready to go, and Cat went into the other room. Her voice came across an intercom system. “Okay, guys. Whenever you’re ready.”
And just like that, we were recording our first song. It was one we played a lot, so it was comfortable, which is probably why we were starting with that.
Front man
Killing it and kicking ass
You’re next
A big star, making it
Front man
Show ‘em how it’s done
Fucking take your run
When we finished the entire song, Cat asked us to play it again. This time, she stopped us in several places and had us rearrange some of the song, cutting most of the bridge. Then we played it again her way. Twice.
“Wolf was right. Lots of potential. How about I work with Finn for a bit on his own? The rest of you can go to the breakroom or lounge.”
Was this how it was supposed to go? I didn’t know, but Cat was a pro, so the rest of us packed it in and made for the breakroom.
The fridge was full of bottled water, soft drinks, and energy drinks. Not unlike the house we were staying in. It was large and fully stocked, thanks to Jinx. I tossed a water to Tank and Gonzo before grabbing one for myself. “What do you guys think?”
Tank shrugged.
Gonzo tilted his head back and forth. “Decent changes. Weird taking direction from someone outside of the band, but fuck…it’s Cat McPherson. Right?”
“Exactly.”
“This could be huge.” Gonzo wasn’t wrong. “I mean, with this backing. Not only Cat but the Midnight Hunt guys. And their promoter.”
“Things are going to change. And probably very fast.” Tank didn’t talk a lot, certainly not like our motormouth, Finn, but when he did, it was important. Or at least, he felt it was worth saying. So I listened.
Everything was changing fast. It already had. Since we’d agreed to this gig, they’d moved us out here and now we were recording, all within a few weeks. We had only just signed the contract. And now…
An album. Touring. Fans.
Just like that.
How the fuck was Matty going to fit into this new world?
How would he feel about us doing a tour while he gets left behind?
We’d only played locally before. Dive joints, really.
Fuck. I missed him, but I didn’t want Matty to join me here with my life in such a state of flux.
I didn’t know if I could keep Matty through it all.
Wolf called us into the conference room to talk about progress, I assumed. I also felt like things were going well, but what the fuck did I know? I took a seat and waited for everyone to get coffee and water and join us around the big table.
Jinx sat at one end between Miami and Wolf. Once everyone else was seated, including Cat and that kid who was doing the marketing—his name was Kai or Sky, or some shit—Jinx tapped on the table in front of him. “How’s it going?”
We all mumbled our great and good comments, but he had to see we were uneasy.
“Alright. I’ll just jump right in on this…” Jinx looked at Wolf. “We want to make some changes. In particular, the band name.”
Wolf leaned forward to back him up. “We can’t release it like this.”
I scowled deeply. I didn’t like this at all. “What the fuck?”
Jinx sighed. “We didn’t hire you to be an opening act. We signed you to be stars. But you have to listen. You have to understand that we know what we’re doing. We can take you to the next level—”
“We haven’t been to the first level.” Finn pushed his chair back from the table.
“We have a following building. I mean, granted it’s mostly in Vegas, but…”
“That’s not enough to not consider this.” Jinx stood and took a moment to look at each of us. “I get it. Star Fly has been your baby, but it’s not a good name for a metal band. It doesn’t fit your brand. At all.”
Not wanting to be looked down on, I stood, too. “What exactly is our brand?”
Miami put his hands behind his head, elbows out, and leaned back in his chair. “You’re badass rockers. Taking no shit from no one. Hell, you look more like a motorcycle club than musicians, but you still play like you have demons to fucking kill. Of course.”
Jinx popped him upside the back of the head. “Not that he’s wrong. But yeah. You need a name that we can make a kick ass logo out of.”
Wolf pulled up one of his sleeves, showing off his Midnight Hunt logo inked into his upper arm. “Something stupid kids will want tattooed on them.”