21. Quinn
quinn
. . .
M y sister, the music manager turned military sergeant, stands before us with her hands on her hips. Every time one of us tries to speak, she shushes us and glares each one of us down. Right now, I feel about two feet tall and I’m second-guessing my decision to be here. There are so many other exciting things I could be doing, like surfing, playing Fortnite, or seeing Nola. But no, I’m standing here, at attention, waiting for my sister to bark orders.
“We are going to be successful. Do you want to know why?”
I look to my left and then right. No one seems brave enough to open their mouths. Hell, if I’m going to. She’s my crazy ass sister and I’d have to feel her wrath long after we leave here.
“Because we’re going to work . We’re going to strive for excellence.”
“You make it sound like we’re in school,” I tell her. Elle stomps toward me, hands still on her hips until she points a finger at me. I cock my eyebrow, testing her.
“You—”
“I’ll walk if you don’t knock this drill sergeant shit off. We have work to do, Elle. None of us has played with each other before.” Behind me, Hendrix snickers. I roll my eyes. When I arrived, I found out that Dana and Hendrix used to be an item, like a serious about-to-walk-down-the-aisle item until they called it quits. See, the drama I wanted to avoid is being thrown right into my face. I look over my shoulder at him and shake my head. “As I was saying, you’ve booked us a gig already, I think I speak for the rest of us when I say we’d really like to get this show on the road.”
Elle steps back, looking at the rest of the group. “Fine by me, but we need to start with introductions. We’re a family and we need to know everything there is to know about each other. Dana, why don’t you start?”
Dana is the first to break our line formation. She grabs a chair and sits in front of us. The rest of us follow her and create a circle.
“I’m Dana Cantu. Born and raised in San Diego, and like most, I came to Los Angeles to follow my dream. I’ve done everything from busking on the street corner, trying out for reality shows, to singing back-up for some of the greatest artists of all time. I had a brief solo career but found that it wasn’t for me. I approached Elle a few months ago about creating a band, and here we are.”
“And I’m the love of her life,” Hendrix says so matter-of-factly, it’s hard to deny.
Dana rolls her eyes. “Yes, Hendrix and I were a couple, but that was five, almost six years ago. Any residual feelings are long gone, and I guarantee you, there won’t be any issues with us playing together. At best, he’s my best friend.”
The guy next to her clears his throat. “I’m Keane Sandoval. I’m a single dad to a seven-year-old daughter named Chandler. Her mom was a big Friends fan. Due to my desire to give her a normal childhood, I can only tour with the band during the summer. Other than that, I was born in Oregon, moved to California when I was twenty-one, fell in love and used to moonlight as the piano man at the Ritz. I guess that’s about it.”
I haven’t even introduced myself to Keane yet, and I can already tell we’re going to be close. He carries his dad vibe very strongly, and I like that he’s putting his daughter first. My dad used to do the same thing until the band hit it really big. They’d tour for a year, take time off to write music, cut demos and record, and then get back on the bus. My grandma once pinned a map of the United States on the bus and gave me a box of pins, so I could mark each spot I had been to. I remember using it, hitting each town with a blue or red-topped pin. Tiny pinholes covered the map by the time the tour finished. My grandma took it and hung it on the wall in my bedroom, telling me that someday, I’ll revisit each place.
Maybe now is the someday she was referring to. My sister has ambitions the size of Everest and I don’t think anyone is going to stop her from achieving her goal. She wants a mega-best-selling group and one way or the other, it’s going to happen.
“I’m Ajay Ballard,” my nemesis says. I don’t like him, and it’s because of my dad. Stupid, I know. I’m an adult and jealousy should not be part of who I am, but I can’t help it. He and my father have this connection, this bond because they’re drummers, which my dad and I don’t have. There are times when I wish my dad would’ve pushed me to follow exactly in his footsteps, to become the next great drummer, but he didn’t. He let me forge my own path, like any good parent should, so this bitterness I have only makes sense to me. My feelings toward Ajay probably make me a shitty bandmate.
“I’m from a small town in North Carolina. I started playing drums in middle school band. Started with the snare, and then went on to learn the full set. After high school, I went to Nashville for a bit, played in a few house bands there. I’ve toured with a few solo acts, picked up a couple of gigs here and there, but this group is my first full-time job.” Ajay looks at everyone but me when he finishes. I’m shocked that he left out the part where he won the battle of the drummers and has played with my dad. Maybe that only matters to me.
“I’m Hendrix Brandt. Born and raised in Anaheim. I’m an Angels fan and like going to their games so if any of you want to meet up at the ballpark, shout at me. Let’s see, what else. Oh yeah, I’m an 80s groupie. I hate that I wasn’t able to live in that era and still wish hyper color clothes existed because I’d give my left nut to have some. I love karaoke, shredding on my guitar and just playing. I’ll jam with anyone, anytime, and anywhere. I’m desperately in love with Dana.” He pauses and winks at her. His feelings aren’t reciprocated that’s for sure. “But know when to back off. I’m super stoked to be here, humbled for the offer to play next to this fine group of musicians, and promise to tear it up on stage. I also don’t drink. I’m not in recovery or anything, just letting you know that liquor clouds my creative process.”
All eyes land on me as I’m the last one to speak. I sit up in the chair and clear my throat. “Right, so I’m Quinn James, and I guess I do a little bit of everything. There isn’t an instrument I can’t play but prefer the guitar.” I rub the back of my neck and adjust my beanie. “I’m here…” I look at Elle, wondering if the others know how much she pestered me about joining her group. Her expression doesn’t give anything away, so I go for it. “I’m here because my annoying little sister” —I point at Elle— “harassed me about joining. As did Dana.” Dana, on the other hand, ducks her head. Oops, guess I shouldn’t have said that last part.
“I spend most of my time tinkering with songs, hanging out with my friends, and singing in cafés. I’m not much for big crowds but know they come with the job. Anyway, that’s me.”
My eyes land on the floor. The more I spoke, the less I felt like I belonged in the band. “As you all know, I’m Elle, and it’s my job to get you to stardom. What my brother didn’t tell you is that we grew up in the business. We’ve seen the good and the bad, the very, very bad, and I promise you that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you only see the good. Am I going to struggle, you bet, but I’ve surrounded myself with knowledgeable people, who will guide me through any hiccup.”
Elle stands and starts to walk around us. She’s in teacher mode or back to being a drill sergeant. I’m not quite sure which and this is a side of her I’ve never seen.
“The producer I’ve hired has worked with my family for a long time. Tyler will be on the board starting next week. I want to cut a demo track as soon as possible. I’ve been guaranteed some airplay and I’ve already set up some interviews for each of you.”
See, this is what I didn’t want to have to deal with. Band stuff. I just want to play music. Sing a few songs. Drink a couple of beers. Easy life.
“In two weeks,” she stops and looks at each of us. “You have a gig at the Roxy. You’re opening up for 4225 West, so the crowd will be large. Record executives, media, and fans will be there.”
“Two weeks doesn’t give us much time,” I tell her.
“Five songs. It’s all I need.” She walks over to the keyboard and picks up a folder. “Inside here are a hundred plus songs. Some are covers, the rest are new. As a group, figure out what you want to learn. Dana, Quinn, and Keane, make sure the vocals are in your range. I don’t need anyone sounding like their balls are in a vise grip when they’re meant to be hanging low.” Elle drops the folder in the middle of the floor and makes a dramatic exit. Oh yes, this is going to be so fun. I’m so excited I agreed to do this, said Quinn never!
Dana and Keane make a move for the stack of songs while I sit there. Ajay is looking over Dana’s shoulders, and Keane and Hendrix have buddied up. Here I am, the odd man out. I’m always the fifth wheel.
Dana looks at me, gathers her things and pulls her chair next to me. “You need to help me decide.”
“I’m good with whatever. If I can’t hit the note, Keane likely can. I’ll hum or something.”
“I don’t think anything in Elle’s pile requires humming.”
Well, it should.
“Are there any Tears for Fears songs in here?” Hendrix says aloud. I don’t know if he’s talking to himself or Dana, but I do know I’m not about to get up on stage and sing about ruling the world. If we do, I’m bringing JD along since they’re his British counterparts.
“There are songs from Journey, U2, and The Police,” Dana says back.
“What about Wham?” Hendrix says.
Kill me. Kill me now. How can a guy named Hendrix want to play Wham? Seriously, this guy doesn’t make sense.
“Do you want me to ask Elle if we can do Purple Haze?”
Hendrix’s eyes shoot up and his mouth drops open. “Seriously, do you think she can get permission?”
I shrug. “If we’re singing it for fun, it shouldn’t be an issue. I’ll go ask her.”
“But we’re looking for songs,” Dana says as I stand. She holds up a few sheets of paper to show me.
“I’ll be back.”
Inside Elle’s office, she’s back behind her desk with her fake glasses on. I sit down, cross my leg over my knee, and sigh.
“May I help you?”
“Hendrix is a loon. He wants to play Wham.”
“So, let him,” she says. “He’s the best damn guitarist that isn’t tied up in a band.”
“I can see why. He’s named after one of the greatest, yet his music selection is ridiculous. Tears for Fears, Elle!”
That gets her attention. She looks up and pushes her glasses up her nose. “Quinn, stop being a brat.”
“Excuse me?”
“Seriously, just stop. Who cares what he wants to play, let him. Practice ten songs for all I care, but just practice. Pick up your damn instruments and play something.” She slams her hand down on her desk. Her reaction causes me to jump.
“Um…”
“Look, when you’re here, you work for me. At home, we’re siblings. But I can’t have you coming in here, acting like I’m going to just give you everything you want. You’re in a band. It’s time to play nice in the sandbox.”
I nod slowly and rise out of the chair. Someone please tell me why I joined this band? “Hendrix would also like a legit Hendrix song if you have one.” I walk out of her office and back into the studio. Everyone looks hopeful when I walk back in, but I hold up my hands and shake my head.