Chapter 15 #3
I thrust a vindicated hand his way. “Yes! Thank you! Seriously, Marcus, thank you. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. I can feel it, you know? In my guts and bones and the places where the best music lives. This is the way forward.”
His nodding picks up pace as he catches my excitement. “Preach, girl. I’m with you.”
With me…
Is he with me? Really? Maybe?
I bite my lip, weighing the risk I’d be asking him to take. It could get tricky socially, but as long as he hasn’t signed an exclusive contract with Checkers…
Finally, I ask in as idle a voice as possible, “I wonder if you might have time to work on that with me? Maybe? If you’re not contractually obligated elsewhere?”
A smile bursts across his face. “Hell yeah, I would. Thanks for asking. Seriously. I would be stoked to make this magic with you, girl.”
I fight the urge to throw my arms around him in gratitude, wanting to be sure he’s looking after himself. He’s so young. He might not realize how vindictive people in this business can be.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Even if it pisses Checkers off?”
He wrinkles his nose. “Nah, Checkers doesn’t care about shit like that.
As long as he doesn’t have skin in the game, he’s cool.
And it sounds like y’all are about to be skin-free.
Once you’re clear, reach out, and we’ll get to work.
I have my own studio now. It’s not much to look at, and the board is nothing like this, but it’ll be perfect for your tracks. No cap.”
I extend a hand, hope swelling in my chest. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m a free agent again. Thanks, Marcus. I can’t tell you how excited I am.”
“Me, too, lady.” He clasps my hand, squeezing it gently, before adding with a wink, “And keep your chin up, right? Not everybody hates babies. I think they’re hella cute. I totally want a few someday once I find my baby mama.”
“Thanks,” I say, touched.
It isn’t the baby that’s the problem, of course. It’s me with the baby inside me. At least from Checkers’ perspective. But I know not everyone agrees with him, and I’m going to prove it.
Outside, I text Charlotte in the parking lot, leaning against the brick wall in the shade as I plot my next move—Hey, Char.
I need a favor. Kind of a big one. I know your parents are on the board at the Botanical Garden.
Any chance you might be able to get permission for me to do a photo shoot there?
Her response comes almost instantly—Sure. No problem! I do it all the time for my wedding clients. It’s not a big favor at all, girl. We can get you in right after they close. You’ll hit magic hour and get some fantastic shots. When were you thinking?
I wince, feeling terrible as I type—This weekend? I know it’s soon, and I hate to ask, but we just lost the venue for the album shoot.
I also lost the photographer and the art director and everything else, but I’m confident I can put the rest of the pieces together if I can get access to the gardens.
Between the fall blooms and the hothouses, I know we’ll get some insane shots with the same vibe as the set for a fraction of the price.
That’s a little tight, but I’ll put in a call and get back to you, Charlotte shoots back. I’m ninety percent sure we can pull it off, but let me confirm before I promise anything.
I thank her profusely, then tuck my phone into my purse and head for The Librarian’s Bar a few blocks over, where I’m meeting some music friends for happy hour at five. I won’t be drinking, of course, but I will be networking.
And scheming.
And continuing to plot the very best kind of revenge—the kind that comes from succeeding when the bullies are sure you’ll fail.
With that in mind, I tug my phone out again, composing another text as I wait at the crosswalk. I can’t lean on Blue as a romantic partner, obviously, and Clover and I are both leaning on him hard as a friend, but he is the one who connected me with the New Orleans music scene.
He’s also a successful recording artist who grew up making indie music. His kirtan albums were breakouts before social media and streaming were even a thing.
And yes, he came from a unique background. Some of the lessons he learned about launching grassroots style might not apply in this day and age, but if even some of them do…
Assuring myself this has nothing to do with wanting an excuse to spend more time alone with Blue, I text—No rush to reply, I know you’re at practice, but I was wondering if you might want to meet up at Thai Me Down for dinner at seven?
Shelby is with Clover until she leaves for her D.J.
gig at ten, and Thai food sounds amazing.
I’d also love to pick your brain about something for work. The meeting with Checkers was…interesting. It got me thinking about alternative paths.
If you have other plans, it’s no big deal, but if not, dinner’s my treat.
I briefly consider elaborating on just how “interesting” the meeting was, but decide that’s a conversation best had in person.
Across the street, I pop into an old school drugstore on the way to the bar.
I always do my best brainstorming with pen and paper, and Mitchell’s Soda Fountain has an incredible stationery aisle.
An hour later, I’ve finished a pot of The Librarian Bar’s honey mint tea, filled several notebook pages with ideas for an indie launch, and written the chorus to a song about feminine power.
The real kind.
The kind I’m going to use to keep going, no matter how many obstacles are thrown in my way.