Page 174
I call Danny.
He picks up on the first ring. He always picks up on the first ring. It is, I have come to believe, the only thing about him that is fully reliable.
“My boy.”
“Danny, I need to move up the meeting,” I say through my teeth—doubting myself even as I say it.
I hear him sit up at whatever desk he is sitting at, which is, knowing Danny, probably in a hotel restaurant. I hear him take the cigarette out of his mouth.
“Oh yeah?”
“The eighteenth is too far out. I need it this month. And I need to know what an advance actually looks like.”
Me and the boys have been back and forth-ing a few other songs for demos. All of them are fucking incredible, and I have no doubt Apex is going to love them. The only problem with music these days, as Danny puts it, is that you need optics. You need a reason for people to talk about you, and that’s what Apex needs to see before they’ll write a number down. Which means the next four weeks are going to be whatever Danny says they are, and I’m going to say yes to all of it, because there’s a figure sitting in my inbox and I don’t have it.
“Ballpark?” Danny says, thinking out loud. “With the new material in the room, and if I push? Maybe 25 each.”
I take in a sharp breath. 25 grand each would solve this problem. We’d still need access to the Trust, but damn. This would go a long way.
I have to do it.
“Alright, and you can get them to agree to this soon? Like this month soon? I am saying yes to everything you have been asking me to say yes to since November. The meeting, the interviews, the optics, the package. The whole package, Danny. Lock it in. But I need you to get the deal done as fast as possible. Can you make that happen?”
A longer pause.
When Danny answers, he surprisingly doesn’t gloat. “I think so. Alrighty then.”
“Okay.”
“What changed?”
“Nothing changed. Send me the schedule.”
“I’ll have it to you by lunch. Apex will want you in the room before anything moves, and their people will want a sit-down first. There’ll be paperwork. NDAs, the usual stack. Do you need Paula to book you a flight in? The sooner the better.”
“Yes, please. For tomorrow morning.” I’ll miss a few classes, but it’ll be okay.
“Alright, I’ll get her to book you a room for a few nights too.”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever.”
We hang up.
Bea comes into the kitchen in jeans and a sweater and damp hair, toweling the ends of it, looking for her phone with the other hand.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
“I need to leave at ten to. I forgot my OChem textbook at my place. I’ll grab it on the way. You eating?”
“Not hungry.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll eat at lunch.”
“Mm.” She finds the phone. Checks it. Looks at me. “You look weird.”
