Page 11 of Conquest

Evan turned for the door.

“Evan,” Greg called. “Welcome back.”

Evan nodded his head once and disappeared out the door.

CHAPTER FOUR

Evan stood outside the bar, his arms folded across his chest, the fingers of his right hand tapping an annoyed beat on his left bicep. “That’s it. I’m going in.”

Greg glanced down at his wristwatch. “He’s only five minutes late.”

“Five minutes means we’ve already missed one song. I’m not going to miss the whole set because you decided to invite your assistant who clearly isn’t competent enough to show up on time.”

Greg sighed. “With the cutbacks Phoenix has had to do, we couldn’t be picky about who was willing to stay on the smaller salaries. All the A&R reps took off, so I need to get Tim some experience dealing with bands in the field.”

“That’s fine, but don’t do it with this band.” Evan whirled around and reached for the door.

“Here he is,” Greg said, waving to a heavyset man coming toward them.

Evan tipped up the rim of his Yankees cap to get a better look at Greg’s assistant. Tim walked with all the speed his stubby legs could carry him, the pudginess hanging over his belt jiggled with his rapid strides, his small dark eyes darted nervously about.

Tim drew to a short stop in front of them, puffing for breath. “Sorry I’m late. When I found myself in this neighborhood, I thought I made a wrong turn, then I checked the directions and realized I was in the right place.”

“It takes a while to learn a new city.” Greg placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Tim, I’d like to introduce you to Evan Arden. Evan, this is Tim Polanski.”

Tim shoved his hand toward Evan. “When Greg said we were meeting with you tonight, I almost didn’t believe it, but here you are. I’ve been a fan of yours since your first album. I’ve seen you in concert five times, too.”

“Wow, that’s impressive. Thanks for supporting my fetishes of fast cars and gourmet chocolate with your hard earned money.” Evan shook Tim’s hand, immediately regretting the action when he felt Tim’s palm sticky with sweat. He grimaced as he drew his hand back and wiped it on his jeans, then regretted doing that since they were his favorite pair of Dolce & Gabbana.

“There’s that wonderful sense of humor you’ve got,” Greg chided.

“Yeah, so can we go in now?” Evan gave Greg a sharp look that told him his patience was about to break.

Greg nodded and followed Evan to the door with Tim trailing behind.

Tim hesitated outside the door, looking up at the bar. Neon signs touting the bar was open and advertising different beers flickered behind the rusted steel bars covering a large picture window, adding the only glitter to the flat, plain front.

“This place is a dump,” Tim said. “What band worth anything would be caught playing here?”

Evan tugged his cap lower over his eyes to hide his irritation. “These guys have only been on the scene for a little more than a year and they’ve been playing anywhere and everywhere they can to get exposure. That’s what highly motivated musicians do, and their talent should be judged based on their music, not the atmosphere they play in.”

Tim shrugged. “If you say so.”

They stepped inside to find a woman standing with a money pouch around her waist and a bouncer at her side. The sound of fast offbeat drums and a keyboard not in synch with the drums or the guitar reverberated off the walls.

“Sounds great already,” Tim said, his sarcasm thick. “You may be a musical genius when it comes to your own material, Mr. Arden, but I’m not sure I agree with your taste in music for listening.”

Evan balled one hand in a fist and took in a slow, deep breath, holding it to keep himself from exploding.

Jesse’s tenor blasted over the instruments,

“This euphoria,

Makes me crazy.

I don’t need you in my bed,

Just need you next to me…”