Chapter Three
RYAN
When I pull up in my car at the office, I take a deep breath. Knowing Tillie is going to be here today is making life difficult, but I need to toughen up if I’m going to get through the day.
Having the PR taken from me has been harder to manage than I thought.
I didn’t realize how much I did for the band before those tasks disappeared.
They kept me busy, engaged, and organized, all the things that kept the dark thoughts away.
Sure, it’s only been three days, but in that time, Tillie has taken over absolutely everything.
Today, I plan on checking out exactly what she’s doing with the band’s money.
I want to ensure she’s doing everything I would be and doing it correctly.
It’s a peace of mind I need because it goes against the grain to be paying someone for something I could, quite simply, be doing myself.
It could be a total fucking waste of finances, and really, I don’t see why Oliver thinks we need a professional.
The band’s success has been increasing steadily since we arrived back in the States, so I must have been doing something right.
Sure, she has training and a family background in PR and marketing, but I’ve been doing this for years, and I know this industry as well as the back of my hand. I know the people. I know the music. That’s got to count for something, right?
After sliding out of my car, I walk to the building.
The halls look the same as always, bleak monotone gray lined with pictures of the band and our records.
The carpet is stain-free and perfectly plush, but the apricot color assaults my eyes every single time.
It’s an older-style office building turned rocker hangout, with a few pieces of music paraphernalia sprinkled here and there to show this place belongs to a band and its crew.
Pictures of Oliver’s previous bands line the walls.
I half smile, knowing they’ve made it big, and hopefully, that’s where we’re headed too.
I glance at the picture of the four of us—Danger, Matt, Nate, and me from when the band first started. We were a lot younger, but it’s one of my favorite pictures of us.
Times were simpler then. We had a dream and aspirations of making it huge, of being the world’s greatest…
But who knows if we’ll ever reach that status?
As I make my way to the boardroom, I wonder if Tillie thinks we can.
Oliver is busy in his office when I pass by, focused intently on his computer screen, so I don’t bother him.
I know the others will be here before me, as I took a little longer to get in today.
For some reason, it seems to be harder to get out of bed and to feel semi-human the past three mornings since the doctor’s health scare.
You’d have thought that scare would have made me more alert and more energized to keep pushing through, but things are getting on top of me, and I can’t seem to shake this funk I’m finding myself floundering in.
Walking past the open-plan windows, everyone is in the boardroom sans Oliver.
When my eyes find Tillie at the table, I take a deep breath.
Her hair is in a messy top bun with a few wisps falling around her oval face, a pen dangling from her plump, shiny red lips, and she’s typing furiously on her MacBook, lost completely in what she’s doing.
She looks one hundred percent nerd girl with her glasses rimming her face perfectly as she squints at the screen, deep in focus.
My cock twitches at the sight of the fucking geeky goddess, and I screw up my face that he even reacts at all because, quite frankly, I detest her.
Entering the boardroom, everyone looks up at me at once. I give a slight smile, and Danger nods to me as Matt and Nate go back to their cells while Lunar winks at me casually. Tillie casts a glance at me, then goes back to her MacBook.
“So glad you could make an appearance, fuck face,” Lunar chimes.
“Jesus Christ, Lunar. I slept in. It’s not like I’ve missed anything. So what if I’m a little slower than normal? Fucking sue me!” I roll my eyes and take a seat next to Tillie.
It seems to be the only one left available.
Unfortunately.
Lunar giggles, taking absolutely no notice of me, while Danger fiddles with her pink hair.
“So, Ryan, Tillie’s going over our marketing strategies and how we can improve them. She’s talking some big stuff,” Danger says.
Tillie casually glances up at me with a ghost of a smile.
“Oh yeah, like what?” I ask, sarcasm pouring out of me and landing right in her lap.
She pulls the pen from her lips, licking her bottom one slightly. My cock twitches again, making my chest tighten in anger at my reaction to this damn woman.
Tillie jams the pen into the bun on top of her head. “Okay… based on the limited bookkeeping records and documents on file—”
“What the fuck? I kept everything aboveboard—”
She tilts her head. “I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m just saying that based on what I had to go on… not that what I had was bad, Ryan.” She tilts her head slightly. “It appears your PR was mostly focused on the indie scene.”
“Yeah, we’re an indie rock band.” Sarcasm flows through my words. “That’s how we like to be seen,” I say.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “I get that, but if you want to expand your reach and grow your fanbase, we might need to consider branching out a bit more. The indie scene is all well and good, but there is a bigger world out there.” Tillie swallows hard.
“Now, with my help, I’m going to take you guys from the indie rock scene to where you need to be. ”
“We are where we need to be,” I say, confused.
She furrows her brows and purses her lips. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong, Ryan, but you guys are a rock band. Rock bands are huge right now, and with a sound like yours, a sound I distinctly heard yesterday, you guys clearly need to be out of the indie rock scene and on an expanded platform.”
“We don’t need to change our platform. The indie rock scene is where we are. It’s where we’ve always been. It works fine for us,” I say, knowing this is where my PR skills have always taken us.
The guys in the room shift uncomfortably in their seats like they want to say something all at once. Well shit!
“Ryan, honestly… do you think your band is going to get bigger by continuing to coast along on the indie rock scene? If you guys want to get on the big stage, and not as a backing band but up there with the world’s popular rock bands, you need to get out of the PR hole you’ve dug yourself into.
You need to think outside the box you’re so firmly locked into.
You need to consider the bigger picture, Ryan.
Billboards, television, radio stations, and not the small indie rock stations either.
You need to be played on the large commercial stations, the ones that can skyrocket your career as a band if you want to be famous in America.
Also, we need to consider subtle advertising, such as in subway stations and on trains, as well as on social media, etc.
You name it. We need to have Recoil’s brand everywhere, and not just small-time indie. ”
I scoff and shake my head. “We don’t have funds for that!”
She tilts her head. “You do. And if you want to make it in this industry, you have to spend money to make it big. You know the old saying, ‘You have to spend money to make money.’ This couldn’t be truer for your PR expenses.”
I shake my head rapidly from side to side and furrow my brows, looking around at everyone else who already seems convinced. “This is bullshit! This is not who we are. We’re not that desperate for attention.”
Danger sits up taller and sighs. “It’s not desperate, Ryan, but this is what we all want. The band wants to be big. Remember the dream we had? You and me, our names up in lights in Times Square?”
I stand and pace the floor, recalling that exact conversation. We had it the night we took that photograph on the wall out in the hall. But that’s different. We were just starting the band, and I had no idea we could actually make it.
“Next, you’ll be telling me you want us to headline with some fucking crazy band and to do a duet or some shit,” I say, not really making any sense because that works out well for most bands.
“Well, actually, Staked is a popular band at the moment. We could set up a headline tour with them?” Tillie states.
I let out a bellowing laugh as Danger tenses and goes stiff as a board.
“See, Tillie, if you knew us at all…” I wave my hands around like a raving lunatic.
“Knew anything about how we work as a band…” my hand gestures wildly to each of my bandmates, “… you would know that Danger was engaged to the backing guitarist in Staked, Ella fucking Slade. Fuck, Tillie, you know nothing. Nothing about us. How can we trust you with the selling of this band if you don’t even know the basics of us,” I yell.
She draws her bottom lip into her teeth and looks across to Danger, who’s as tense as Lunar, but somehow, she manages to rub his arm.
“Look, okay, a tour with Staked? Yeah, I’ll make sure that never happens.
I’m sorry, Danger, I didn’t know, and I should have done my research.
But, Ryan, shutting down the right course for this band at my every turn is not going to make things easier.
You need to accept that either you want this band to succeed, or you’re going to be another whitewash band that fades into obscurity.
Quite honestly, right now, it’s your choice. ”