Chapter 1 Jane #2
Riker grumbles. “Is Kyle really that unreasonable? Just call him and tell him his friend can’t hack it.”
It’s what I should do. If Trevor has done anything over the past three days, it’s proven he can’t deliver. But Kyle hired him, and he is Sir Alec. He’s on a three-week wellness retreat in Iceland, and even he found a way to book a recording studio in Reykjavik and lay down vocals.
It’ll all be for nothing if we don’t have drums.
The unshed tears finally blur my vision.
I should have done something about this sooner, but I was trying to avoid conflict.
I never should have recorded without more of the music and sound department here, because then at least it wouldn’t look like I was making personnel decisions unilaterally. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Just fire him and bring someone else in. Do you need me to do it?”
Despite that it makes me feel like a kid again, a part of me desperately wants to hide behind Riker and let him take care of this.
When I was nineteen and my parents tried to cause a scene backstage at one of our “heathen concerts,” Riker stepped in to run interference.
They ignored my boundaries, tried to shove a bunch of Bible verses down my throat, and wouldn’t leave when I asked—but for some reason (a reason that is probably the patriarchy) they listened to him.
But I’m not nineteen anymore, and I can’t ask Riker to fix this. It’s my responsibility.
“Who would we even bring in at this point?”
He cocks his head, a sly smirk creeping up his lips. “Hmm. Do you know any drummers who would drop everything at a moment’s notice to help you out?”
I let out a long breath. “I didn’t want to bug her about this.” Keeley Cunningham, the brilliant Glitter Bats drummer, would show up for me in a heartbeat, but her schedule is just as busy as mine.
“Janey, come on.”
“She has a gig!”
Knowing Keeley, she’s diligently rehearsing for the show she’s playing tomorrow with Bianca Martin. I don’t envy her. Working with an ex sounds messy, but Keeley’s always been good at navigating that kind of stuff. Besides, the whole situation is none of my business.
And if there’s something going on with her and Bianca again, I don’t want to be calling her to rescue me in the middle of all of that.
Riker narrows his eyes. “She’d figure it out. You need her.”
Suddenly, I’m jarred from our hushed conversation by a belch over my shoulder. Trevor stands behind me, eyes already glassy somehow, his “lucky stick bag” in hand. “We’re done, right?” he asks.
“Not yet,” I say. “We still need to get through ‘Never Your King’ without losing measures.”
He smiles placatingly at me, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “That last one was fire! I’m going to be late for a gig if I don’t leave now.”
It takes every last piece of restraint for me not to snap, but I plaster my own smile on. “We haven’t recorded a clean take yet.”
He shrugs, running a hand through his greasy hair. “Sorry, babe. I gotta get going. Remember—it’s rock and roll! It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
Riker opens his mouth—no doubt to defend me against that babe—but I jab an elbow in his ribs. Riker coughs, and I jump in before he can say anything, plastering another saccharine smile on my face. “Well, thank you for coming in.”
Trevor finishes his beer with another watery burp, then chucks it in the general direction of the trash can. He misses by a foot, and the can tumbles to the floor. “Yup. Anything for Kyle. You’ll send me the check, right?”
I sigh. “That’s all handled by accounting.”
“Sweet. I already spent the money, but that’s what credit cards are for, am I right?” He offers a fist to Riker, who just crosses his arms and uses every inch of his height to tower over Trevor. For the first time, Trevor actually looks chagrined.
“Okay, uh, bye.” And then he’s out of the studio.
I should be relieved, but my hands start to tremble. Now, I don’t even have a bad drummer.
“Maybe I should just do it myself. I can count, at least. It doesn’t have to be good,” I hedge, as if that’s any way to do this.
Riker raises a brow.
“You’re right,” I say with a groan. Of course it has to be good. The Network won’t like it if the music for their hit animated series takes a dip in quality this season. They’ll find any excuse to cancel musical shows, because original scores cost money.
Money that’s paying me, the rest of the team, and all of the musicians we’ve hired. I have to figure something out.
Quietly, I bend down to pick up the empty beer can with two fingers, then toss it in the recycling bin, preparing myself to figure out a plan.
I run my hands over my long curls for the hundredth time today, which are no doubt frizzing from the familiar motion.
Usually I try to look semiprofessional in the studio, but business casual went out the window when the air-conditioning stopped working.
I’m down to a change of clothes I had in my car.
“Can you get yourself set up in the other booth? I know we’re behind, so once you give me a few solid takes, I’ll let you go. ”
Riker puffs out his chest and salutes. “I’ll do it in one.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t rush. I think I’d like to hear a few different riff options after that second chorus when I get back.”
“Sure thing. Where are you going?”
I gesture to my phone, trying not to cringe. “I have to make a call.”
Riker grins. “See? I bet she’ll be on her way before you even hang up the phone.”
Despite my reticence to bug Keeley, all of the anxiety of the past few days starts to fall from my shoulders as I pull up her name in my contacts. The call barely rings before she answers the FaceTime, grinning at the camera from somewhere out in the September sunshine.
That grin instantly calms me down.
“Jane Mercer! This is the best surprise I could have gotten today. I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been booked.” We haven’t hung out since after the most recent Glitter Bats show in Vegas six weeks ago, which became quite the party when Valerie and our other lead singer and bassist, Caleb Sloane, eloped in a cowboy-themed chapel.
We spent the night with our friends and family, drinking way too much champagne and filling up my camera roll. It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.
Keeley runs a hand through her blond bob, shorter than it was the last time I saw her, and I can’t help but notice how much it suits her angular features.
Her septum piercing glints in the light.
“I totally get it—everyone wants a piece of you. I don’t blame them.
” Obviously she’s not trying to be suggestive, but my traitorous heart still races at that particular comment. “So what’s up?”
I clear my throat. “You got a minute?”
Her lips twist. “I’ve got the whole fucking afternoon for you.”
Okay, now that was suggestive. I swallow hard, reminding myself this is just how Keeley is. She flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.
We’re friends, and anything else is just my imagination running wild at the worst time.
“That’s great to hear, actually. Long story short, I need a drummer. How do you feel about laying down a seven-minute track for Into the Dragon Realm this afternoon?”
Keeley pulls down her sunglasses, smirking in that way of hers that always makes my cheeks heat. “Sounds fun. When do we start?”