being bossed around in general. But when Colt looks at me that way, his eyes hooded, his gaze lustful as it touches me, broadcasting his intentions as clearly as words? Yes, please. Boss me around all you like.
But because I’m contrary by nature—and I know Colt likes it when I defy him as much as I like it when he bosses me around like this—I take my sweet time finishing the last of my tea. When I finally drain the last few drops, he yanks the cup out of my hand with a low, feral growl.
Pretty soon, neither of us is wearing clothes, and all is right with the world once more.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Colt
When Alexis and I aren’t rehearsing or recording, I’m reaching out to every contact I have in the southern California, including my brother Brendan. I’ve never really considered trying to carve out a place as an indie artist before, but after the success of that first concert and the growing number of followers and subscribers we’re getting online, it seems stupid not to. Like Alexis said, we’re tired of waiting for someone else’s permission to do what we love.
And maybe … just maybe … if we go indie, Alexis can quit obsessing about losing those last five pounds. Even though she’s lost four, she still says she needs to lose five more. It’s a never ending cycle, despite her pancake splurge after the show.
We need another venue, but the bigger ones want a deposit that’s fifty percent higher than standard, and I’m trying to talk them down. I can swing it, and I’m reasonably confident we’ll make it back, but I don’t like getting screwed over. Which means a lot of my free time is spent doing social media management—posting selfies and outtakes, interacting in the comments, even investing in a few ads to draw more eyeballs.
I leave a message for Brendan, a little annoyed he doesn’t answer. But the guy’s busy. And it’s not like I answered on the first ring every time he called while I was working for Jonathan. Or at all since I married Alexis. He’ll call back. Eventually.
Alexis is gone, meeting with Delores about next steps. When she announced the appointment, I had to bite my tongue, because I thought I was working on the next steps. But Delores is Alexis’s agent, and it’s possible Alexis sees going indie as a backup plan in case the label never changes their maybe to a yes. If I had an agent, I doubt I’d be so quick to jump ship and give up my last chance of having a standard contract with a label that has nationwide store and radio distribution deals.
Yeah, you get to keep a larger portion of your royalties as an indie, but you have to work a lot harder to grow your fan base too. There’s no done-for-you promotion. And while I have contacts with bookers and promoters, as I’m discovering, they’re hesitant to take a risk on an indie, even one with an existing and growing fan base.
But for me, that’s all the more incentive to work hard. And I’m too chicken to ask Alexis to elaborate her point of view for me. Because there’s the very real possibility that this is all just a stepping stone to her. That I’m just a stepping stone to her. That’s what this was intended to be, after all. That’s how this all started. And the fact that I’m pivoting to a new opportunity rather than waiting around for the music gods to drop something in my lap twice in a lifetime doesn’t mean she’s actually ready to do the same.
Sure, yeah, she’s recording videos with me and for me, and she’s happy to have me post them on her pages. But that, again, is just business.
The fact that my emotions are now tangled up in all of our business doesn’t mean hers are too.
So she’s off meeting with her agent, and I’m home continuing to work on our indie career and waiting for someone to call me and tell me they believe in us.
Closing my laptop, I stand and rub my eyes, making my way to the shower for something to do while I wait. Constantly refreshing social media hoping for a new comment somewhere isn’t a helpful distraction.
When I get out of the shower, I check my phone to discover an email from one of the bookers I’m negotiating with and a voicemail from my brother.