Strung Tight (The Road To Rocktoberfest #1) - Ann Lister Page 0,16

your lap, Fletch. You worked your ass off for this,” Dagger remarked. “I didn't decide to groom you for the fun of it, although it has been a great time teaching you all how to harness your talent. I saw the same hunger and thirst in you that I had at your age. You guys have a real chance at making it if you keep the fire and drive burning in the pit of your stomach like it is now. Throw a rope around the neck of that emotion and ride it all the way to the Grammys.”

I started laughing at that. Dagger had more confidence in us than I sure as hell did. I hoped he was right, but I also knew and understood the work we'd already done was just the beginning. We'd have to bust our asses ten times as hard if we were going to launch Chaos to where I wanted us to be and to the heights of success Dagger believed we could reach. Time would tell with all of that.

“You'll be doing a full set on Friday night, which is about an hour or so with an encore or two,” Dagger explained. “Consider this a dress rehearsal for Rocktoberfest. It will be the same for your entire crew. They’ll use this week to come up with a plan of how to set up and take down your equipment, one that can also be used in Nevada. Tomorrow, I want you to work on your setlist and play it until your fingers bleed. I'll be at the warehouse and help you organize your list.”

“I'm really fucking nervous but also excited,” I confessed.

“It's good to feel both of those emotions,” Dagger said. “Embrace what you’re feeling and harness it to use in your performances. This is just the beginning, Fletch. If Chaos does well with the Apex show and Rocktoberfest, then the sky is the limit. We'll get you into the studio after Nevada to record the songs that go over well at the shows.”

“I know I say this a lot, but I am so thankful for what you're doing for us,” I said in a soft voice.

“You can thank me in your Grammy speech,” Dagger said and chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Be ready to work.”

“Always,” I replied, and we ended our call.

I gazed out the Uber ride’s side window as we drove back to my apartment, and my mind wandered. Sometimes I wanted to cry with joy over the opportunity Dagger was giving my band. I would never take for granted the strings he was pulling and the schedules he was arranging to allow us a chance at stardom—even giving up personal time with his husband and family. The guy was a special kind of hero in my book.

He was essentially paying us to live our dream of being musicians by paying us a monthly allowance, which was more than enough for our rent and food. Reimbursement for his efforts was whatever money Chaos earned prior to the release of our first album. If we didn't get signed with a recording company, then Dagger would foot the enormous bill of producing our first album, and for that, he'd take a percentage of the album sales. Payment for his work and our funding was ridiculously small, considering all his contributions. Still, he said this wasn't about making money but his way of giving back to the musicians’ community by helping us find our way up a very crowded ladder. Dagger kept telling us his reward would come when we sold-out our first tour or got our first platinum album—whichever came first. I wasn't convinced we'd achieve either of those goals, but it sure was nice to dream about it. The first stop on our road to success was the Apex Club on Friday night. I was both equal parts terrified and elated about the prospect and what was ahead for us as a band. It was like being pulled in a roller-coaster car up to the top of the first big dive. I knew what was coming, but all I could do was hold on and wait to feel the bottom drop out of my stomach. That was what this lift in our musical career felt like. We had no idea how big the rush would be or how far we’d be able to ride the tail of this comet, and that had my head swimming with endless possibilities. It was the best fucking high