Chapter 27 Like a Rash
LIKE A RASH
DYLAN
Come With Me Now By KONGOS
Rachel’s waiting at my office door, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “Well, well. Look who finally remembered he has a company to run.”
I smirk. “Miss me?”
“Like a rash.”
“While you were playing cowboy I was holding down the fort. I’ve been fielding calls from PR about the showcase lineup, smoothing over the radio spot screw-up in Austin, and babysitting a rockstar who nearly missed a recording session because he got lost on a hiking trail,” Rachel says.
I raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t playing cowboy. I was tracking down Liam and fixing my mistakes.”
Rachel places a hand on her hip. “You should have been back yesterday.”
“I don’t control the weather,” I grumble. “You have no idea where I had to stay for the night.” I shudder at the memory of the roadside motel with questionable stains on the carpet.
“But…” I drop my bag, pull out my phone, already cueing up the video I took at the Bitter Creek Saloon. “Check this out. Her name’s Collins Wilder.”
Rachel squints at the screen as the clip plays. Collins’ voice fills the room, raw and perfect even through a shitty phone recording.
“Holy shit,” Rachel says, eyes wide.
“She’s really something.” I take the phone back.
Rachel straightens her back. “Okay, cowboy. I’m impressed.”
I place my hand to my chest. “Was that… was that a compliment?” I ask with exaggeration.
She tosses me a smirk. “Lap it up because I don’t dole out many treats, but it is cute to see you so excited for the morsels. Did you sign her?”
My smile falters. “I’m going to.”
“Ah, there it is.” She rounds the desk like a cougar ready to pounce.
“She’s a bit resistant, but I’m handling it,” I say.
Rachel smirks. “You’re having trouble closing deals lately. First Morgan, now this Collins girl. Need me to Google a prescription for that?”
I shoot her a look. “Funny, no. Her brother is all in. Said he needed some time to talk to her.”
“What’s the hesitation? If it’s money, you could always cut half your salary,” she offers.
“Sweet of you to point that out, but no. It’s not money. And despite what you think, I do know how to close a deal.”
“What do you need?” Rachel asks, morphing into business mode.
“A deal that allows for greater flexibility. Record the album close to home. Shorter tours but make it count,” I say.
Rachel taps on her tablet. “We could aim for the last leg of the Autumn Rise Festival—bigger bands, lower billing, but better exposure. Pair it with a behind-the-scenes video series, some local radio giveaways, a collab single with one of the headliners. The kind of scrappy stuff that builds buzz.”
I nod, impressed. “Can you get that in a contract quick?”
“I’ll run it by Legal this afternoon.”
“I can see if Maggie’s free for the tour.”
“Are you going to pay her this time?” Rachel eyes me.
“I don’t run a sweatshop.” I point a pen at her. “What she did for Velvet Drift was amazing. I’d like to see that kind of buzz for Collins.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” Rachel says, tapping on her tablet.
“Standard rate,” I warn.
“Got it, sheesh.”
“And if we can get her signed in time, she’d be perfect for the showcase,” I add. “Her voice on our stage would blow everyone away.”
“What about the other thing? The whole reason you went to Arizona in the first place?” Rachel asks, her expression growing serious. “How’d it go with Liam?”
I sink into my chair, the memories of our conversation still fresh. “Better than I expected. We talked—really talked. Cleared the air.”
“And?” Rachel prompts.
“And he’s coming back,” I say, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice. “To L.A., to the band. He’ll be at the showcase.”
Rachel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Well, well. Maybe you’re not completely hopeless after all.”
“There’s more to him than I thought,” I admit. “He’s not using our connection for a leg up. He genuinely wanted to know his brother.”
“Shocking. Not everyone has ulterior motives,” Rachel says dryly.
“Yeah, I deserved that.” I run a hand through my hair. “We spent most of last night talking. About drumming, about our childhood… about our mother.”
Rachel’s expression softens. “And how was it?”
“Strange. Good. Complicated.” I count the tiles on the ceiling for a moment. “He wants me to meet her.”
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. One step at a time.”
Rachel nods, respecting the seriousness of this without pushing further—a rare show of restraint for her.
“What about Wade and Adam? Are you going to tell them?”
I hesitate. “I need to. Soon. Liam deserves that much.”
“They’ll understand,” Rachel says with unexpected gentleness.
“I hope so.” I look at my watch. “I need to go tell Morgan about Liam. She’s the one who pushed me to fix this in the first place.”
Rachel shoots me a knowing look. “Right. The showcase. Planning another bathroom rendezvous? Make sure you fix your hair afterward this time.”
“Rachel!” Heat rises to my face.
She laughs. “Your secret’s safe with me. Well, as safe as anything is around here.”
Before I can grab my jacket, she shoves her tablet at me. “Cirque Noire update. Ivy’s fitting went great. She sent pics.”
I flip through the pictures, impressed. Rachel’s hot breath is on my neck.
“What are you doing?” I spin around.
“That doesn’t look like a Cirque Noire design.”
I shove the tablet at her. “Since when do you follow fashion?”
“I beg your pardon.” She twirls, placing her hands on her hips.
“Didn’t you get that dress at Le Chic Recycle?”
“I have kids, ya know. Do you want me to cancel Maria’s violin lessons so I can buy couture?” She argues but thinks about it. “Hmm, not a bad idea. She’s not very good.”
She catches the door before it closes. “Oh, by the way, thanks for giving my number to some random guy named Trevor. He’s been sending me SoundCloud links at 2 AM.”
I turn, trying not to smile.
“He keeps asking if I’m coming to see them play Friday.”
“I thought you wanted to be more involved in scouting talent,” I say innocently.
“Yeah, actual talent. Not some garage band.” She throws her hands up. “He said they have a smoke machine, for God’s sake. A smoke machine!”
I laugh. “Want me to get you earplugs, or will cotton balls be enough?”
“I’m adding this to the list of reasons I deserve a raise,” she grumbles.
I gather my things, grab my jacket, and head for the door. “I know I don’t say this enough, but thank you, Rachel. For keeping this place running. For having my back.”
She blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity. “Write that down somewhere—I want evidence this happened,” she says, but there’s a genuine smile behind her snark.