I plastered on a fake smile. “Well, here we are. In the space. In the room, even. Now, tell me what your hit’s going to be?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know yet. It’s gotta come to me.”
I did not have the patience for this. I was up at five this morning, mostly from sheer cortisol wondering if I was going to be able to make rentandDaniel’s payment, and I’d been making deliveries just to scrounge by enough for the upcoming payment and cover the cost for this room. And I guessmaybeI didn’t really need to spend time in between deliveries reading the Iliad and looking up resources about it to make sure I was taking the right meaning from the text, nor reading old magazine articles, but I guessmaybeI was hoping to be able to talk to Helena again.
And then I’d texted her and she’d told me to fuck off. So here I was. I smiled wider.
“Hey, Stephen Shale?”
“Er—yeah?”
“Just so you know, Kingmaker said you ain’t shit.”
“Oh.” He deflated. “What?”
“Yeah, I asked him about you making a hit and he laughed you off and basically saidoh that kid, he’s a loser, can’t perform for his life.”
“Oh…” He looked like his crush had just rejected him in front of the whole school. I wasn’t done with him yet.
“So I’m not listening to your shit about the creative process needing some space like you’re some eccentric genius.” I stepped closer, arms folded. “My grip on reality is currently holding onby a very tiny thread, and you can either work with me whether that faucet is on or not, or so help me god I will lock us in this room and Jigsaw you on the drum kit until you have a hit on your hands or until we’re both dead.”
“Jeez, you’re crazy,” he said. “I thought you said the studio staff was gonna meet me here to work with me!”
“Yeah, well, I lied, and now here we are, so let’s not waste precious booking time.” I pointed a finger in his face. “Listen to me, Stephen Shale.”
“You gotta stop saying my name like that, it’s giving me the creeps.”
“Listen to me, Stephen fucking Shale.”
He whimpered, but he listened to me.
“You saw that Kingmaker freak?” I said. “You got a load of that asshole? You’re really gonna let him put you down?”
“Uh… I dunno?”
“Really?” I said. “Don’t you have anyone you love, dude?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Who?” I barked it like a drill instructor, and he shrank away.
“Uh, my, my momma.”
“You think your momma would want you to let that weird-ass Kingmaker guy put you down?”
“Uh, no, ma’am.”
“You’re damn right she wouldn’t. And I won’t let him put you down either. He said he was just being nice to your face but he thinks you’re nothing. A total nobody. How’s that make you feel, Stephen Shale?”
“Uh, bad, ma’am.”
“Then what are you gonna do about it?”
“Uh, talk to my momma?”
“No! You’re going to fix it!” I slammed my hand down on the piano, and he jumped. “So help me god, Stephen Shale, Iam the only person in New fucking York who believes in you, so don’t let me down. Do you want to prove Kingmaker wrong or not?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
