Chapter 17
Killian
Another night of tossing and turning. I just couldn’t sleep with the thought of the meeting hanging over me.
What if it all went tits up? What if he realised what a fucking mistake he’d made and then asked me to repay my expenses?
What if…
Fuck with the what-ifs. I deserved to be in that meeting. I’d worked hard, mostly when I wasn’t fucking around with drugs, but I deserved this, didn’t I?
Both Harvey and Seth had told me good things were coming, and I’d laughed it off as them being nice. But what if they weren’t? What if this was my time?
I woke early and went down to breakfast. I loaded my plate with eggs, bacon, and toast, but when it came to eating it, I had no appetite. The only thing I could stomach was black coffee, and lots of it. I could hear colours; I’d drunk that much.
I went to the toilet God knows how many times. My stomach was in turmoil, nerves eating at me.
Look, it’s gonna be a yes or a no. Deal with it, ya fucking eejit.
By eight-thirty, I was in the hotel lobby, pacing. I smiled weakly at the receptionist and paced some more. How much longer?
I glanced at the clock again. Eight-fifty. Another ten minutes and I’d discover my fate. Did I have what it took to be a star?
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait that long. A gentleman in a suit came in holding a sign with my name on it. It was like being at the fucking airport.
“Hey, that’s me.”
“Good to meet you. I’m Max. I work for Mr Jones.” He led me out to a brand new Mercedes and even opened the back door.
This was treatment I wasn’t used to.
“We’re really looking forward to working with you.”
I hadn’t signed a contract yet, but I’d listen to what they had to say at least.
“Thanks. I’m interested in what Sullivan is offering.”
“Oh, it’ll be worth your while. He’ll make sure of that.”
I looked out the window. I didn’t know London particularly, only visiting when I first moved over here from Ireland. The north suited me better, Liverpool especially. I wouldn’t cope with the traffic. It was fucking shocking.
I still couldn’t believe I was being chauffeured to this meeting. What world was I living in?
I considered messaging Harvey, but before I could get my phone out, we’d arrived.
Max got out first and opened the door for me.
“Cheers, mate.” I straightened my clothes and followed him into a small industrial unit.
Was this a setup? Had he brought me here under false pretences? But the moment I walked through the door and saw all the framed gold discs on the brick walls and the photographs of bands and artists I followed, I knew the dream I’d had all those years ago was finally coming true.
Sullivan stood in the reception area, a phone stuck to his ear.
“Yep, I completely understand, Harry. We’ll get on that right away.”
Surely, it wasn’t… Nah, couldn’t be, but then, stranger things had happened.
He ended the call and walked towards me, arms open.
“Killian. So glad you could make it today. We have so much to discuss. I have a fair few plans I wanted to talk to you about. Absolutely no obligation today to sign any contracts. In fact, I encourage you not to. Not until you’ve smoothed it out with a lawyer. Now, what can we get you to drink?”
“Just coffee if you have it.”
“We have mocha, cappuccino, latte, espresso. You name it, we have it. You can have syrup, anything you want.”
“Black is fine with me. No sugar, thanks.”
He looked positively disappointed with my choice, but anything else and I’d have thrown up. I didn’t remember the last time I was this nervous.
My hands were clammy, my mouth dry, and my stomach was doing somersaults worthy of an Olympic gymnast.
“Jinny, can you bring a black coffee and my usual to the conference room, please?”
He placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me towards a room, the walls all glass. It wasn’t very private; anyone could see who was in there, but the moment he shut the door, the glass was opaque.
I’d never seen that before.
“So,” he said, and sat at the table facing me. “Let’s get down to business, then I’ll give you a tour of the facility, and maybe we can get you to sing a little for us, lay down a track or two if you’d like.”
This was moving quickly, but I nodded, completely blown away by where this was going.
Jinny appeared and brought our drinks before disappearing again.
“I’m happy to give it all a go. Let’s talk business.”
I’d probably have to get myself a manager, as Sullivan, or Sully as he asked me to call him, went on to explain what they wanted.
“We’ll sit you down with a couple of songwriters we have on board, unless, of course, you write your own tracks.”
I shook my head. I’d never written a song in my life. Reading music wasn’t a strong point. I played by ear. “Sounds good, but I’d never say no to giving it a go.”
“Fantastic. I’ve spoken to our investors, showed them the video from the festival on Sunday and a couple of other clips I have of you. I’ve been watching you closely and like what I see.”
“Really? How come you haven’t approached me before?”
“I had a couple of other big deals going down, and I like to put all my efforts into new signings. I didn’t have the time to dedicate to you, but now I do. We have investors, but I’m the one who calls the shots.”
Made sense, and if it meant I had his full attention, I was listening.
“Of course, this is all subject to you being happy with the offer we make, but we’d like to start with one album and then see where we go from there. Some public appearances. There are a couple of summer festivals we can sign you up for. The next few months could be really busy for you.”
Shit. This was all moving far too fast. They had everything planned out. What if I didn’t agree?
“What say do I get in all this? I don’t want to tie myself into something I can’t get out of. Not that I would want to if the offer was the right one.”
“You have input, for sure. On the songs you sing, which festivals you want to attend, although some of them are belters. Leeds, Reading, Creamfields. We couldn’t get you a slot for Glastonbury. You can imagine artists are booked up well in advance for those. What do you think so far?”
“It’s a lot to take in. My head’s in a bit of a spin. I also think I need a manager or an agent.”
“Yep, absolutely, and I can put you in touch with a couple. Meet a few, see who you gel with. A word of advice: don’t jump into bed with the first one you see, so to speak.
A good agent can make or break you, and you want one that has your interests at heart and isn’t just there to pad their pockets. ”
I’ll give Sully his due; he wasn’t forcing me into this. He was giving me sound advice, and I was tempted to say yes right away, but I needed to pace myself and take it all in.
As if sensing my apprehension, he took a sip of his coffee and stood. “Let’s go for that tour, and you can see what we’re about.”
I gulped down my coffee and followed him out of the room, now transparent again. What kind of fuckery was that?
The tour was mind-blowing. We visited a couple of recording studios. One was empty, and another had a very popular artist sing their heart out. I could have stayed and listened all day, but Sully moved me on after about five minutes.
“I have an early contract I had drafted for you to take away and get checked out. As I said before, I don’t want you to sign anything until you’ve taken legal representation, or if you get an agent, they can sort that side of things for you.”
“Um, yeah. Sounds great. I’m a little shell-shocked, if I’m honest. Things like this don’t happen to guys like me.”
“And why not? You have the voice, the looks, although if you don’t mind, we’ll get you a proper stylist who’ll sort out your clothes. The look is good; it just needs a little tidying up.”
I touched my hair, a self-conscious gesture, but he had a point. There was a lot to do to make me look even halfway presentable.
What would Harvey say to all of this? I didn’t know him that well, but I knew this would mess with his head. He’d need reassurance and plenty of it.
“What do you think?”
Of what? Shit, I’d been so far away I hadn’t heard what Sully had said.
“Sorry? I was just trying to take in all you said. What did you say?”
“We have a hairdresser here today; they could tidy you up a little if you’d like? No charge. This one would be on us.”
“Um, I guess that’d be okay.” At least my hair was clean.
“Fantastic, and then you can have a practice in the studio. Ever been in one before?”
“Not before today.” I was nervous but excited, and Sully led me through to what can only be described as a hair salon.
“Matt, could we tidy up Killian’s hair a little? I want to do some sample shots to see how he’d look on a cover.”
“What now? You didn’t mention that before.” I’d signed nothing, but Sully was acting as if it was a done deal.
“It’s just for the investors. I swear, you’ll have all the rights to the photos until anything is signed. If we don’t? You get the pictures back.”
“It’s just a lot, Sully.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s go straight to the studio, and we’ll play around in there for a while.”
I hadn’t realised until now how nervous I’d been. It was all too much. Could I cope if this was my life day after day?
But I’d be stupid not to at least give it a go.
“A session in the studio sounds great.” I smiled and followed him back to the recording studio we’d been in before. This time, a man sat at the mixing desk.
“You ready to show us what you’ve got? Put these headphones on and enter the booth. A track will play in your ear, and you just need to sing along.”
I’d seen it enough times and knew what to do. I took the headphones and grabbed a bottle of water from the table. My mouth was drier than the bottom of a birdcage.
I put the headphones on and listened.
A voice spoke first. “You could do the song you sang at the festival. It sounded great live, but we can tweak it and make it fantastic.”
It seemed Sully had a favourite word. Fantastic.
I nodded at him through the glass and waited for the track to start.
I sang, but my heart wasn’t in it, and I think Sully realised that. Something was missing; I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Wanna try that again? Wasn’t quite coming through at our end.”
I bet he was regretting his decision now, but we tried again, and then again.
“Hey, Killian. What made you cry that day when you sang the song? What was going through your head?”
Not a what, but a who. Harvey had been on my mind the whole time I sang, and I realised that was the missing factor today.
I was singing with my head, not with my heart.
“Can we go again?” I asked. “I think I’ve got it this time.”
“Sure thing. We’ll line up the track again.”
I closed my eyes and pictured Harvey in my mind. His shy smile, quiet vulnerability, then his laugh, and the way he’d lit up as we’d talked on Saturday.
The music filled my ears, and I sang, the image of Harvey in my mind. The emotions from Sunday brought tears to my eyes, but I didn’t shout or scream the song. I sang quietly, gave it the reverence it deserved until, finally, the song ended. I opened my eyes and looked through the glass.
Sully was nodding, a smile on his face. Even the guy at the mixer desk looked impressed.
“Fantastic, Killian. Just fantastic. I think you have a great future ahead of you.”