next best option, and I think in-person is the way to go.
“We need to talk about our plans for CK’s future,” Trevor starts immediately after we place our lunch orders—which is really more like a dinner order since my body hasn’t adjusted to the time change just yet. “You haven’t released a full album in two years. We need you back in the studio ASAP. When can I get it on the calendar?”
Tommy glances around at us then takes the lead to answer like he knows what we’re all thinking.
He doesn’t.
“We’ve been writing on the road, so we have plenty of material. I’d say we can get back in there within a week,” he says, and my chest races.
“A week?” I ask. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
All eyes around the table turn toward me.
“Is a week not acceptable to you for some reason?” Tommy asks dismissively.
“We’ve been on the road for two years,” I say, slamming my palm on the table and drawing the eyes of onlookers. We’re dining at an upscale restaurant across the street from our record label, a place common for celebrities to dine and therefore a place where it probably matters what I say because listening ears are everywhere. But fuck it all, I don’t care. “Yeah, a week is unacceptable. We need time to recover.”
Tommy rolls his eyes. “Hit the weights, deadbeat.” He laughs at his own joke as usual, but he’s the only one laughing. He looks around the table. “You all feel that way?”
“Dude, I’m still on London time,” Dustin says. “I need at least a week to readjust, and maybe another week or two to go over what we wrote. Maybe one more to restore the creative juices.”
Brett looks uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to disagree with Tommy now that they’re tighter than Tommy and I used to be, but we can all see it there.
“So you’re saying you need a month?” Tommy spews.
I lift a shoulder. “That’s a good place to start.”
“Might I remind those of you who are campaigning for more time off,” Trevor interjects, “your contract stipulates four albums over four years. You’ve dropped two in over forty months, which means you have just under eight months to release two full-length albums.”
“So we’ll file for an extension. Ashton will understand,” I say, referring to the owner of our label.
“Will he?” Trevor asks. “On what grounds do I file this extension? That you’re tired? You need to catch up on your beauty rest?”
I sigh as I look away. No, more like I need to prioritize my own life for once.
Trevor’s a good guy, and he’s taking on the role of the messenger right now. I understand this, but that doesn’t change the fact that the news he’s delivering isn’t what at least three of us want to hear.
“Listen, you have a week. No extensions. Get writing, get moving, and get ready to meet in the studio at eight AM next Tuesday.” He stands and tosses his napkin on the table. The dude isn’t even sticking around to eat the meal he ordered. “If you’re not there, you’re in breach of your contract.”
With those words, he turns and walks out of the restaurant.
I stare daggers across the table at Tommy, but he’s oblivious.
Anger boils in my blood. Why the fuck would he say we could be in the studio in a week when we never discussed any of that? Some of us have things we want to do outside of this band.
But as I look around the table, I realize something. Maybe it’s only me.
Dustin’s good because he’s got Amanda. Tommy and Brett are two balls in the same sack.
And then there’s me. The dick that’s been pining for a girl he spent a total of three nights with.
But, fuck, they were good nights. It was rabid, and it was hot, and it held a connection unlike any I’d ever had before, but it wasn’t just that. There was a spiritual connection between us. It could’ve been our shared history, or it could’ve been the fact that I felt like she liked me for me, not for my success or my money.
Those are the kinds of things I worry about now when I meet a new woman. But it transcends even that. She’s the one who got away. She thought I was kidding every time I badgered her for a date when we were teenagers. I wasn’t.
She finally said yes when she couldn’t deny the connection between us when we met up