40. Hot Commodity
HOT COMMODITY
JESSE
Left for Good by Bad Omens
The elevator doors open onto the Stonewall Records floor, and Janice peers at me over the rim of her reading glasses from behind the reception desk.
She’s been stationed at this desk since Wade and Adam founded the label, and she treats the transition to Dylan’s leadership with the same indifference she treats everything else.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Janice, you’ve practically watched me grow up.”
She blinks once behind the glasses. Unmoved. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Janice.”
“Name, please.”
“Jesse O’Donnell. Two o’clock. Dissolution paperwork.”
She consults her screen with the deliberate pace of someone who has never been rushed and never will be, adjusts her glasses, and nods toward the glass-walled conference room at the end of the hall. “Conference room B. Don’t touch the thermostat.”
I head for it on autopilot. My goal is to sign the papers, dissolve the band, go home, and eat an entire pan of brownies, which is both masochistic and absolutely necessary.
The conference room door is propped open. I round the corner and stop.
Tommy is at the far end of the table, one leg bouncing.
Oh fuck no. Absolutely not.
I turn on my heel and Tommy’s chair scrapes against the floor behind me. “Jesse, wait.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“Please.” The word stops me, because Tommy doesn’t say please.
“Five minutes,” he says. “I’ve been trying to talk to you.”
“Jesse?” Dylan’s voice comes from the far end of the hallway, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. His gaze moves from me to Tommy and his expression hardens. “Why are you both here right now?”
“I was told two o’clock,” Tommy says.
“Jesse’s appointment is at two.” Dylan drags a hand over his face. “Tommy’s was at noon. Stella and Luke were at four.”
Stella rounds the corner, bag over her shoulder, and stops short.
“I was told two o’clock,” she says.
“Rachel!” Dylan’s voice carries across the entire floor.
Rachel appears from around the corner, tablet against her chest, travel mug in her free hand. She takes a long sip before addressing Dylan with the patience of someone explaining gravity to a toddler.
“I told you to stagger the appointments,” Dylan says.
“What did you want me to do, make a seating chart? Are we in kindergarten? Do you want me to stagger nap times for the interns while I’m at it?” Another sip. “You’re all adults. Figure it out.”
Dylan pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to me. “Jesse, I’m sorry. This wasn’t…”
“It’s fine.” It’s not fine, but I’m here, and Tommy’s here, and apparently everyone is here, and wallowing in my brownies isn’t coming quick enough. “Let’s get this over with.”
I head for the conference room and Tommy is on my heels.
“Jesse, would you stop walking and listen to me for…”
“I’m here to sign paperwork, Tommy.”
“Jesus, don’t turn this into a boxing ring. Everybody sit down,” Dylan says, pushing past us into the conference room.
Tommy doesn’t sit. “Just hear me out…”
“Tommy.” Stella drops her bag on a chair. “Shut up for ten seconds.”
Dylan tosses a folder onto the table. “We’re signing these papers and we’re doing it without anyone putting their hands on anyone else.” He opens the manila folder and slides the dissolution papers across the polished table.
I grab the pen, flip through the pages, and sign every line with my name on it.
Silent Revenant is officially dead.
I toss the pen onto the table. “Are you fucking happy?” I say to Tommy.
“It wasn’t Tommy,” Luke says. He’s standing in the threshold, dark circles hollowed beneath his eyes, his normally precise demeanor stripped to a raw, unfinished version of himself.
The room goes very still. The kind of still where the air itself stops circulating.
Luke swallows hard. “The leak was me. I gave them your name.”
Tommy’s chair creaks as he pushes it back to stand up. “The fuck? I told you it wasn’t me.” He points at me.
“Tommy, I’m sorry…” Luke starts.
“Dude, don’t talk to me.” Tommy shakes his head. “Talk to him.”
Luke sighs, turning his attention to me. “I’m the one that leaked your identity.” Luke’s voice cracks. “I was stupid and I told Mateo.”
“Luke?” Stella stands up. “Why would you do that?”
I should care, but I don’t have it in me. I’m simply done.
“To be honest with someone I was falling for.” Luke’s eyes flash to his sister.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
“He posted it online.” Luke’s composure fractures. “I tried to get him to delete it but he ghosted me.”
My life is fair game now because Luke couldn’t keep his mouth shut on a pillow.
“You let me think it was Tommy,” Stella says, the devastation in her eyes evident.
“I have been managing the fallout from this leak nonstop. Legal, press, damage control. Do you have any idea what you’ve cost the band?” Dylan says, loud enough to make the room go quiet.
Luke opens his mouth, and Tommy’s voice overrides him, low and dangerous in a way I’ve never heard from him.
“I took a punch for you, asshole,” Tommy says.
Luke’s shoulders drop, his hands slide off the table, and he stands there like a man who’s run out of ways to defend the indefensible.
“I’m sorry,” Luke says, and he directs it at me. “Jesse, I am so sorry. You gotta believe me, I didn’t know…”
“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore,” I say, letting out a bitter laugh. “But I’ll never trust you again. We’re done.”
Before he can say anything else, I walk out of the conference room. Rachel is leaning against the wall in the hallway, travel mug in hand. “Hey, since you won’t be needing that mask anymore, you mind if I borrow it?”
I stare at her blankly.
“What?” she shrugs. “Dylan never lets me have any fun.”
I laugh and shake my head but before I leave, she says, “You’re gonna be okay, kid.”
Tommy catches up to me before I make it to the lobby.
I stop near Janice’s desk. She peers at us over her glasses and returns to her screen.
“Tommy.” I rub my neck, the words sitting heavy and necessary in my chest. “I owe you an apology.”
He crosses the distance between us in three strides and pulls me into a hug hard enough to crack a rib. He clasps my shoulder and holds on a beat too long.
“I bitched about the masks and a lot of stupid shit,” Tommy says. “But I’ve got your back, Jesse. I always have.”
“I should have listened to you,” I say. “For the record, I never could have found another drummer like you.” I clasp his shoulder.
“Thanks, man.”
“Someone should check on Stella before she ends up in the back of a cop car.”
Tommy snorts. “Don’t you worry about Sugar Tits. I’ll handle her.” He winks, leaning against Janice’s desk. She gives him a look, and he straightens immediately.
“You really don’t care?” he asks. “If I were you, I’d—”
“I’m tired, Tommy. The band’s still done. Me raging at Luke doesn’t undo any of it.” I shrug. “I’m not in the same headspace anymore. I’ve gotta figure out where to go from here.”
Tommy’s quiet for a moment, which is honestly scary. “If you start a new project and need a devastatingly handsome drummer with impeccable rhythm and a very tasteful ass tattoo, you’ve got my number.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Tommy.” I laugh.
“I’m a hot commodity, O’Donnell. Don’t wait too long,” he says, and gives me a salute before walking toward the elevator banks.