Chapter 48
Theo
Far in the distance, like the soundtrack to a dream, I hear the opening bars of the Saints’ song “Family Fruit.” I groan and shove my face farther into my pillow, bending it so the pillow covers my ears.
The song’s got to be playing on someone’s radio in the parking lot.
Even in the depths of my wallowing, I can’t escape the band.
Then the music grows louder. Hannah’s voice croons, “I just wanted them to like me, but you were a bolt of lightning,” so close it’s nearly in my ear, and I startle, scrambling out of bed so fast my ankles get caught in the sheets and I fall to the floor.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I do a push-up off the thin carpet and shake the damn sheets off my legs, then stride to the front door, ready to go full Clint-Eastwood-get-off-my-lawn on whoever’s throwing a party in the parking lot of my Extended Stay hotel.
“Surprise!” shout the Saints, the instant the door opens. I shriek, and they shriek back.
“What’s wrong?” Kenny yells. He holds a giant boom box above his head, the source of the sonic assault.
Ripper elbows him from behind a fistful of helium balloons. “Bro, turn off the music!”
The music cuts out. “Whoa,” Hannah says, taking me in. All three of the Saints’ eyes are wide. “You don’t look so hot.” I take a step back and shake out my T-shirt, as if that will air out two days of moping. “What are you guys doing here?”
Kenny’s long blond hair is held back by a sunny yellow headband I’m pretty sure I saw on Gossip Girl.
“We’re doing the Say Anything grand gesture.
” He lifts the boom box back above his head, as if I’ve missed it.
“You know, playing a song outside your window to say we love you. You grand-gestured us, now we’re grand-gesturing you. ”
I shake my head. “And you chose your own song? A song about depression?” “Dude, I mean this with love,” Ripper says, “but you look like a public service announcement for depression.” “I’m an unemployed man living in an Extended Stay hotel.
I am depressed.” “We just heard.” Hannah steps over the threshold.
“Which is why we came to congratulate you.” “Congratulate?” As the Saints filter past me, I squint at Ripper’s balloons. “Do those say ‘Celebrate Good Times’?”
“Ta-da!” Hannah sets a pastry box on my tiny dining table and pulls off the top. Inside is a beautiful cream-colored cake, with the words Congrats on Getting Fired! in blue icing.
I purposely didn’t tell the Saints the news because I didn’t want to burden them or make them think my getting fired was their fault. “How’d you hear?”
“Roger called this morning,” Hannah says. “Told us the album release is back on but we have a new manager named Patrick.”
“Patrick,” Kenny says with disgust. “Can you imagine?”
“I actually know Pat,” I say, “and he’s a decent—”
“Shut up, Suit,” Ripper interrupts. “We’re doing a thing.”
“So we came immediately.” Hannah glances around. “I mean, we stopped for the balloons and cake and everything, but basically immediately.”
Kenny sets down his boom box and claps me on the shoulder. “It’s a wonderful day in a man’s life when he finally sheds his corporate shackles.”
“I guess we can’t call you Suit anymore, Suit.” Ripper drops onto my couch and kicks his feet up on my coffee table, immediately at home. Hannah sticks her hands in her pockets and looks around. “So this is where you’ve been living?”
I try to shrug away the embarrassment. “Sure is.” Granted, the Extended Stay hotel is not the most glamorous location in Los Angeles, but Manifest had a strict travel budget.
The entire suite is pelican-themed, which the website called “California beachchic,” in a clear case of consumer fraud.
Pelican-shaped ceramic lamps rest on the side tables (one now cracked thanks to Roger), and framed prints of pelicans soaring above the Santa Monica pier hang on the walls.
Hannah’s eyes track over it all, then land on me—specifically, on the shirt-and-sweatpants combo I’ve been wearing for two days straight.
To say this whole scene is not the look I’d hoped to present to the woman whose face is starring in my daydreams is a devastating understatement.
But she nods like she’s seen worse, which, now that I think about it, is probably true, given that they once practically lived out of a van. “Just so we’re caught up, getting fired was your grand plan?”
I tuck my shirt into my sweatpants in an attempt to look more professional and rub the nape of my neck. “Pretty much.”
“You fell on your sword for us,” Ripper says. “You’re a fucking hero.”
“Oof,” I grunt, as Kenny barrels into me from the side. “I’m just glad the album’s going to see the light of day.”
“You deserve a statue.” Kenny’s voice is muffled against my shirt.
“We realized something after Roger called.” The expression on Hannah’s face reminds me of the night we kissed at Guppy’s house: open, shyly admiring.
Like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.
“From the beginning, you refused to cut and run. When I quit the band, you stayed and put us back together.”
“Good lord, am I finally getting credit for that?”
“And now you’re doing it again.” She clears her throat. “We think you’re actually a lot better at nurturing bands than you are at nuking them, Reaper. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
I can’t tear my eyes from her.
“I personally think getting fired is the best thing that could’ve happened to you,” Ripper announces.
“Oh yeah?” I pat Kenny and he releases me, wiping his eyes. “I’ve tried calling fifteen people I thought were my friends in the industry, and none of them have picked up. Roger was serious about blackballing me. What’s so great about that?”
“Because now you get to start your own label,” Ripper says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t laugh,” Hannah warns. “This is actually all of our idea.”
Kenny flops down next to Ripper on the couch. “Break it down, Rip.”
“Okay, so listen.” Ripper holds up a finger. “Roger was your corporate daddy, right? You loved him so hard because you were trying to replace your abandonment daddy.”
I look accusingly at Hannah.
She turns to Ripper. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to phrase it like that?”
“But what you need to do now is become your own daddy.” Ripper beams. “Then you can never be disappointed. That’s some mad therapy wisdom right there.”
“For the love of God, Ripper, never say the word daddy to me again.”
“I’m just saying it’s some insight you should mull over.”
“Daddy talk aside,” Hannah cuts in, “the idea is solid. Fuck Roger, fuck Manifest, and fuck all these guys who won’t call you back. Be your own boss.”
“Then you wouldn’t have to be anybody’s Grim Reaper anymore,” Kenny says.
“Fixer,” I correct.
He ignores me. “You could concentrate on the parts you like best, like making albums. We saw how happy you were in the studio. That’s what you should be doing.”
“If these industry people are going to be rude to you,” Hannah adds, “then just do what you always do and become so good they can’t deny you.
” There’s sly humor in her eyes. “Like what you did with us. By the way, I heard the Saints fulfilled their contract and are free agents again. In case you’re interested. ”
My heart soars, but I tamp down my hope. “You can’t choose me over resigning with Manifest, or another big label. That would be insane. You’re stars now.”
“What,” Hannah says, “you’re the only one who’s allowed to be loyal?”
I can’t look away from the blue of her eyes. It feels like something important is happening, like—most improbably—my life is changing in the middle of a stupid pelican-themed hotel room.
“We’ll sign to your new label on one condition,” Ripper says. “You name it Suit Records.”
“No way,” Kenny argues. “Corporate Dorkus 3000.”
“Oh god, it’s the album title all over again,” Hannah says.
“Guys, I haven’t agreed to anything.” It’s hard to protest when I’m laughing. “And besides, if we’re negotiating terms, one of mine is that I never get called a nickname again. No more Suit, or Fixer, or Grim Reaper. Just Theo.”
“Oh, Suit.” Kenny leaps from the couch and musses my hair. “You’ll never be just Theo to us.”
“Kenny, get him a slice of cake,” Hannah says. “He’ll be more persuadable once he’s on a sugar high.”
Kenny nods. “I’ll make it a big one.”
As soon as Kenny and Ripper turn their backs to slice the cake, I find Hannah’s hand and slide my fingers through hers.
I have no idea what’s next.
I’ve never been more excited.