I wasn’t expecting a raise.
And that amount of money is nothing to turn my nose up at. I’d have security and be able to play the music I love so much.
“Option two?” I ask finally.
“Option two involves risk for all of us,” Sasha says, rifling through some papers in front of her. “Essentially, you would still be the opening act for Onyx Knight, but your band—whether it’s Ross Rockit or some other version of Ross & the Rock-Its—becomes its own entity. You would still get paid but it would be a percentage of sales, a percentage of merch, just like any other band. The pros are obvious—getting to play your music, still making money, and you’d be on salary so you’d have health insurance. That part wouldn’t change. And the big pro would be the option to record a new album at the end of the tour.”
My heart skips a beat.
Getting to record a new album would be…amazing.
“However, the cons are also plentiful. The money would be much less. No doubt about that. More like fifty grand, which is about a quarter of what you’d make otherwise. We could be surprised, you might sell a ton of merch and that number would change, but generally speaking, that’s the range we’re talking about for the foreseeable future.”
“Why the disparity in pay during the tour?” I ask.
“Because we have to take into account putting you in the studio and recording an album. And, depending on what you decide with a band, we have to pay them as well. If you decide to go solo, we have to pay them a decent amount or no one is going to want to do it. If you decide to start a new band, then there are more people we have to carry long-term. Not to mention, more people to split the profits with. Everyone makes less money.”
She goes into a long, much more complicated explanation, and while I understand it all, I’m still overwhelmed.
My heart knows exactly what it wants to do.
My brain is another story.
I have Wynter to think about now.
And she just essentially quit her job, after I offered to take care of her.
I still can but not the way I want to. Not if I’m only making fifty grand. I still have car insurance, rent, and utilities back home. It’s not a big number but it will eat up a chunk of my take-home pay, leaving Wynter and me with very little play money. Very little money left over to save for the house we might buy. The family we might have.
I gave up on the idea of having kids a long time ago, but I know she wants them.
And I’d be okay with having a couple.
But not if I’m making fifty grand a year.
“You’ve gone quiet,” Casey says gently. “What are you thinking, Ross?”
“I’m old,” I say slowly. “Not old like one foot in the grave, but I’m turning forty-three this year. My days for taking risks should be behind me. Do I want to be in a band, make new music, do all the things? Fuck yeah. So much it almost hurts just thinking about it. But what about my future? Retirement? Savings? And now I have a woman in my life.” I won’t tell them she just quit her job—that’s not my place.
“There is definitely some risk,” Casey concedes. “But is money your only concern?”
“Yes, because it’s a big one. The biggest one. How can I take care of her making fifty grand? It’s not like twenty years ago. Things are a million times more expensive. And on top of that, what if it doesn’t work out and you’ve replaced me? So not only would I give up a lot of money for at least a couple of years, I’ll lose the high-paying job I love.”
“You’ll always have a job,” Sasha says gently. “Don’t worry about that. If Onyx Knight replaces you, we can put you in with Nobody’s Fool or Crimson Edge.” Those are the other two bands signed to Hart Records.
“As what? A roadie? I’m too old for that, Sasha.”
“I’ll guarantee you a job at the level you’re at now,” Casey says. “One way or another. The label is growing, the studio is booked for two straight years—there’s always a place for you.”
“I appreciate that,” I say sincerely. “But tell me the truth…what are the chances of a new Ross Rockit album taking off?”
“There’s always a chance. We don’t sign bands we don’t believe in. There are no guarantees in this industry, but I have a pretty good track record. And I would have creative input on the album to make sure it’s on trend for the current market.”
“Look, the doctor Kingston saw doesn’t want him to sing for three more weeks. That means you have about two weeks to decide what you want to do,” Sasha says when the silence stretches out a little too long.
“I think you should go for it,” Casey says. “If life provided me an opportunity to perform again, without risking my marriage, I would do it in a heartbeat. I understand that comes from a place of privilege, but it’s also coming from the heart. I don’t lose money regardless of what you decide. As Onyx Knight’s opening act, they take on some of those costs no matter which way you go.”
“I agree,” Sasha says. “I’ve been watching carefully and the guys have filled me in on how the crowds respond to you. They love Kingston, but they’ve welcomed you with open arms. Every time you play ‘Shoot For the Stars’ the room lights up. There are songs that transcend time and genre and even generations—and that’s one of them. A new album can’t hurt, and you have our word that you’ll have a job at the end of this, no matter what happens.”
