and Joan and Kurtis,” she rattles off a bunch of other names as she loops her arm through mine and leads me into the studio.
“Don’t worry about the show. It’ll get picked up. In thirty years, my father’s only had two shows get turned down,” she assures me.
“Well, I hope we’re not the unlucky third.” I laugh nervously.
“Shh.” Her gaze darts around the cavernous room. “Don’t even joke about that.” She points to the ceiling. “The T.V. gods are always listening and very fickle.”
I blink and stare. Great, another crazy person.
She breaks into wild laughter and slaps my shoulder. “I’m fucking with you, Mallory. Although, yeah, half of Hollywood is crazy superstitious. Come on, let’s go find your dressing room.”
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted, but hopeful.
Chapter Forty-Six
Chaser
Maybe Mark got wind of Jacob’s attempt to talk my fiancée into orgasming on Lies and Other Promises. Music industry folks love to gossip and I’m sure after working with us, the sound engineer we used needed to seek therapy.
Whatever the reason, Mark calls in a guy to mix the album before we leave Vancouver. No fucking around this time. Mark stays with us throughout the process, cutting off any attempts by Jacob to start navel-gazing. If the urge to stab Andrew wasn’t still lingering in my gut, I’d call and ask him if this is Cutter’s usual process.
“You did good, kid.” Mark shakes my hand and gives me a fatherly pat on the back when the album’s finally finished.
He glances around the sound room, but we’re alone for now. “You ever record those tracks with Mitchell?”
Not all that surprised he knows about it, I nod. “I think he only used one of them, though.” I hesitate, wanting to choose my words carefully. Last thing I need is gossip floating around that I trashed America’s beloved pop music superstar. “It was a…strange process.”
“Mitchell’s a strange guy.” He glances at the doorway again. “Are you interested in working with any other mainstream acts? As a featured guitarist? Or even contributing some lyrics.”
“I’d have to consider the project. Do you have someone specific in mind?”
“A few artists, but I wanted to know if you were open to the idea, first.”
Not expecting this, I run my hand over the back of my neck a few times. “I need to be home for a few weeks before we go back out on the road. I can’t—”
“No, no. We’ll schedule it in L.A. for you. This…” he sweeps his hand over the soundboard in front of us, “…was to get your album done in a reasonable amount of time so the label didn’t drop Kickstart.”
My stomach plummets into my boots. “What? Was that a possibility?”
He arches a brow. “You didn’t hear that from me. But after the EP took so long…the rumors of Jacob’s drug habits, Andrew’s shooting, your arrest for the shooting… Let’s just say, the suits have had some reservations about Kickstart’s long-term viability.”
“Fuck.” I stab my fingers through my hair and stare up at the ceiling. “Thom never said anything.”
“I doubt they were that blunt with him.”
“Shit.”
“Every label’s signing metal bands now. There’s a race to produce as many albums as possible and cash in on the trend before the bubble pops. Half of them are garbage. Hell, more than half. Kickstart’s got staying power, Chaser. You have staying power. Real talent. You’re more than a trend. I’m glad you have an open mind.”
Of course, I do. If I can keep publishing rights to just one hit song, it could set Mallory and I up for years to come. “I’m always willing to listen, Mark. And I’m open to all different genres.”
He grins. “Andrew talk to you about his rock-rap-blues fusion project?”
I snort. “Yeah, I think I talked him into adding a little country into that mix.”
“Holy smokes. I don’t know if I’m going to touch that one.” He chuckles. “If anyone could make it happen, though, the two of you could.”
Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not working with Andrew any time soon.
I don’t bother saying that to Mark. As close as we’ve gotten while working together these last few weeks, it’s still better to keep that whole goatfuck of a weekend to myself. In musical matters I trust him, personal stuff, not so much.
“We’ll see.”
Alvin slaps his palm against the open door and pops his head into the room. “Pizza’s here.”
I turn to leave, but Mark stops me. “Keep this between us for now.”