Chapter 6
DRAKE
Thursday, six days before the festival
I skipped lunch to read through the Binder of Doom.
After ten minutes I opened my laptop and started a spreadsheet with tabs for each of the sections Zeke had marked in the binder.
Almost everything did seem to be under control, but there were some key points he’d noted where he was still waiting on information.
Luckily he’d put the name of the committee member responsible, heavily underscored, next to each question.
I had three more hours until the meeting was supposed to start. What did I know about running a meeting? I was a musician, for fuck’s sake.
However, I knew exactly who did know how to run a meeting.
My eldest brother Steve. He was the non-musical one of the family, and our father had not been happy about that.
But despite dear old Dad kicking Steve out of the family, he’d become CEO of his first startup before he’d been thirty.
And now he and his business partner were working on a new project.
He’d led thousands of meetings. I unlocked my phone.
Me:
Can you please call me sometime in the next 3 hours?
I didn’t have to wait even thirty seconds.
“What’s wrong?” His tone was urgent.
“Nothing.” Sometimes I enjoyed being a little shit to him. I blamed it on us being separated for all of Dirk’s and my teenage years. I had a lot of brattiness built up that Steve was destined to experience.
He sighed into the phone. “Why did you need to talk within the next three hours?”
“Oh!” I made sure my voice conveyed that I’d forgotten all about my text to him. “Right. That. I just need some advice.”
I heard him say something to someone else, probably his business partner Cal, and then it sounded like he was walking. “Okay, shoot. What’s going on?”
I gave a long, aggrieved sigh. “I have to run a meeting with a bunch of local movers and shakers, and I don’t know how.”
There was a pause. “What kind of meeting?”
I explained about the festival committee and Zeke abandoning me for his sick friend.
“So you have to go through all the outstanding action items, find out their statuses, and maybe make decisions on them?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
He chuckled. “Drake, do you remember the one and only Melodious Moon concert I attended?”
“Yeah?” It’d been our final concert as a family band.
“You were the person who made sure the stage was set up correctly. You were the one who gave the venue manager a piece of your mind when the sound system wasn’t set up right.
Dirk told me that when y’all were on tour, you were the main interface with the concert arenas, since Dad fucked off all the time.
You’ve also been interacting with movers and shakers since you were a little kid.
There’s nothing about running this meeting you can’t do. ”
Well, shit. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“It’s doing exactly what you’ve done before, but in a different setting.”
“I get it. Thanks, Steve.”
“Let me know how it goes, but you’ll do great. How’s Vermont?”
I chuckled. “This trip was positioned as helping out Wesley’s old buddy, but ‘helping’ has turned into ‘doing’. Still, I’m enjoying it.” I told him about the chickens. “How are Gamora and Mantis?”
“Hah. They love our new backyard. I don’t think they’ll want to go back to the condo life. I’ll send you a picture.”
I looked wistfully out the window of the cabin at the grass and trees. Part of why I was trying to do songwriting full-time was so I could live somewhere like this. While I enjoyed performing, I hated touring. And I couldn’t do it without Dirk. I’d never last on the road by myself.
We chatted for a few more minutes, and I felt better after talking to Steve. He was right. I could run this meeting with my eyes closed.
It was almost 4:00 p.m., and I was starving. I put on the most business-like outfit I’d brought—black jeans and a dark gray button-down shirt. I topped it with my black bowler, then I packed up my laptop and Zeke’s binder, and I was on my way.
On the way into town I kept an eye out for somewhere to get food.
As I hit Maple Street, the main drag, I saw Red’s Restaurant, whose building looked like it had originally been a railroad car.
I vaguely remembered someone warning me about two diners, but I couldn’t remember the details and I was hungry enough to take a chance.
As soon as I walked in, a thirty-something brown-haired guy in a red uniform shirt waved from behind the counter and told me to sit anywhere.
I picked a booth near the far end where I could people-watch.
There were only five or six other customers, since I’d beat the dinner rush.
I set my hat on the seat beside me. These days I didn’t get recognized very often, but that would change when Dirk’s new movie came out.
I might have to dye my hair or—shudder—wear a baseball cap.
The same red-shirted guy came over and handed me a laminated menu. “Hey, there. I’m Mickey. Today our special is a bacon cheddar burger. Let me know if you have any questions on the menu. What can I get you to drink?”
“Uh, just some iced tea, please. Wait, it’s not sweet is it?”
He looked at me like I had two heads. “No, but there are sweeteners on the table there.” He pointed.
I shook my head and smiled apologetically at him. “Sorry. I’ve been living in Texas the last five years, and it’s a crapshoot as to whether they serve regular iced tea or if they’re going to spring sweet tea on you without any warning.”
Mickey grimaced. “Dude, you need to move up here. You’re safe from sweet tea in Vermont.”
I smiled. “That’s a relief.”
He glanced around the diner, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “Hey, are you Drake?”
I raised my eyebrows. “I am.”
He grinned. “Cool. I thought so from Alex’s description.” My eyebrows went higher. “Thanks for helping Charlie—sorry, Charles—on Monday. Everyone was real worried when he went missing.”
“I was happy to. He’s a great kid.”
He nodded, then stepped back. “I’ll bring your tea right out. Have a look at the menu while you wait.”
Well, it wasn’t unexpected that people would be talking since I was new in town, but I was oddly relieved it’d been Alex who’d gossiped with Mickey about me rather than Finn.
I decided on the special cheeseburger, and Mickey wrote my order on a little notepad like they’d probably done back when this diner was first built. It fit with the black and white tiled floor and the chipped Formica tabletop.
My chest felt a little empty, being in an unfamiliar town without Dirk. We’d always been on tour together—with the family band or without. And the few occasions we’d made time for a vacation, we’d done that with each other too.
I pulled out my phone and opened my texting app.
Me:
I know you’re probably filming, so no need to reply right away, but remind me to tell you about the chickens I’m now temporarily in charge of. Gamora and Mantis would be pissed if they knew.
He replied almost instantly.
Dirk:
So you’re a chicken tender?
Me:
Fuck off
Mickey brought my food, and it smelled delicious. “Thanks, man.”
“Sure. Save room for some maple custard pie for after. It’s our specialty.” He spun on his heel and headed back to the kitchen.
I set my phone down to concentrate on feeding my belly.
The text notification chimed, and even though it was almost definitely Dirk again, my brain immediately speculated that it could be Finn.
Shit, this was bad. I couldn’t obsess over the hot veterinarian.
I was only here for two weeks. And we didn’t even like each other.
Though I had a hard time remembering why at the moment.
But it wasn’t Finn or Dirk who’d texted.
Charles:
Hey, Drake! Mr. Griffin, my guitar teacher, says I should do the amateur competition at the music festival. I’m debating between Can You Feel the Love Tonight (my mom’s favorite song) and Smooth (my dad’s favorite). What do you think?
I frowned. One of those songs was well within Charles’ current capabilities, but I didn’t think he was up to playing Santana yet. Still, I should give him a chance. Maybe the music teacher had worked with him on it.
Me:
Those are both great songs. And they’re actually close enough in key that you could do a mashup if we have time to work it out.
But you’d have to have both of them down cold first. I’ve got a meeting at the library until around 8pm.
If it’s okay with Finn, I could stop by after and you can play them for me.
Because that’s what Charles needed. I wasn’t offering to go to their house for any other reason.
Charles:
Finn says that’s fine. Park in the vet clinic lot and take the path behind the building. You can’t miss the house.
I tried to picture what was behind the vet clinic, but my mind kept sending me pictures of a path through more creepy woods. Hopefully Mabel didn’t hang out in that part of town on her way to get dinner at Zeke’s place.
I texted back that I’d be there, then I finished my excellent meal.
I’d planned to park downtown and walk around before the meeting, but I was enjoying just sitting and doing nothing for a change.
I let Mickey talk me into trying the maple custard pie, which was as good as advertised.
I was glad I liked the taste of maple, because I had a feeling I’d be seeing it on a lot of menus around here.
At 5:20 p.m. I reluctantly left the diner and walked down the block to a coffee shop called Special Blend. I greeted the teenager behind the counter. “Hi, I need some cookies or something plus coffee for a meeting. We’ll have seven people.”
“Sure! We can do disposable carafes. Do you want regular or decaf?”
“Uh, I guess both?” I shrugged at her. “This is the first time I’ll be at this meeting, so I have no idea what they want.”