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I'm on the way back to Violet's place when my phone rings.
Huh? It's barely eight A.M. No one calls this early. No one on the west coast is even awake.
It's Mal.
That can't be good.
I bring the phone to my ear. "Tell me this isn't bad news."
"It's good news."
Still don't have a good feeling about it.
"You with Violet?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"Then never mind. I'll decline this."
"At least tell me what it is."
Mal's voice is as even as always. "We got offered a spot on a late night show tonight. Their original band got food poisoning. Kit and Joel are in."
"You and Joel are communicating?"
"More or less."
That's Mal for less.
"It's a good opportunity but…" His implication is clear. But so is being with Violet. "It's your call, Ethan."
"Let me think about it."
"Hate to rush you, but they want to know immediately."
Shit.
"I can buy you twenty minutes. If I don't hear from you by then, I'll decline."
"Thanks."
"Hmmm."
The phone clicks. I press the thing between my palms. A late night show means millions of people watching us perform. That's mainstream success. That's the kind of thing bands dream about.
I've been working for opportunities like this for the last three years.
Promised Violet I'd stick around. I want to, but I can't turn this down.
She'll understand.
I text Mal.
Ethan: I'm in.
It only takes a minute for him to reply.
Mal: Rehearsal starts at nine-thirty. Don't be late.
