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“But now it’s time to focus on my music,” I continued. “Thank you so much for coming out to celebrate with me even though you have the baby and everything. I know our lives are currently quite different.”
“I’m happy to!” she said. “It gets me out of the house. Plus, I love to see you.”
“I love to see you too,” I said, getting up to hug her.
I gave the baby a little kiss on her cute button nose, telling myself that my stomach was lurching because of all the deep-fried food and not because my ovaries were screaming at me to get a move on things already.
Chapter Eight – Pauline
It wasn’t too hard for me to make my way to The Sanctuary for another band practice. Doing something the fourth time around isn’t that hard, compared to the first time you had to do it. Possible ways are always clearer when you organize them visually in your head.
The lack of rain and darkness also helped to no end. The practice area soon came into view and I saw the same vehicles lined up in the lot that had been here before. One particular vehicle stood out among the rest as having not been here then, so I assumed that one belonged to Derek.
This was our last practice before the upcoming gig tonight. Some might argue that it would be a suicidal move to rehearse the day of the gig, but none of my new bandmates had spoken or uttered anything to Derek.
We’d only known each other for a while now, but I had already gotten used to him. I could always tell his mood with a stare, so no words needed to be spoken between us. There was no point in rocking the boat, at least not yet. There was still lots of time, and I figured the slower we built up a good professional rapport, the better. He might not even notice what was happening.
It didn’t matter that all I could think about when I was around him was how hot he was and how much I wished he would throw me over his shoulder and take me home with him so he could take my virginity. I planned to continue to ignore these emotions, so that I could focus on winning him over as a bandmate, as much as I loved/hated him as a person.
“Ah, here she is,” Thom said, when I walked in.
“Trouble finding the place yet again?” Adam asked.
His tone alone gave away what his intentions were. Despite his pleasant demeanor, now I knew why Derek might be prickly. From all I’d seen, he fancied himself first among equals, in the Soviet sense, even if his shaved head gave him more the look of a sexier Mussolini.
There was no obvious conflict with Adam, other than the fact both of our instruments had four strings and played in a lower register. Even so, it was very easy to tell the difference between the two.
All I could come up with as a possible reason for his prickliness towards me was that he knew theory too and had his own plans for overthrowing Derek and taking over the reins of the band.
I’d certainly heard about power struggles before. Like the one that led to the abomination that was the final Creedence Clearwater Revival album my dad loves so very much. I must have gotten my sense of taste from my mom.
“Very funny,” I snapped back.
“Yeah, leave her alone,” Thom instructed Adam. “This place is hidden away from the public for a reason, and very hard to find.”
Although I had found it just fine today, I let them think that was the reason I was late, instead of just my own general sense of time or lack thereof. I felt that it was too early to let them in on the fact that I was chronically late all the time.
As I tuned up, realizing that my drive over had played merry hell with my setup, Thom moseyed over, like he had something on his mind.
“I talked to Seth,” he informed me.
“Seth?” I stared back at him blankly.
“Seth Black, the president of Suspicious Activity Records.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah. Seth.”
“He’s fine with you joining Dante Street Massacre, of course— it’s our choice, really, although we like to let him have at least the appearance of giving the final stamp of approval— but you need to do some paperwork if you want to record with us.”
Paperwork cemented my suspicions that this band was kind of a big deal. I really wished I’d looked them up before auditioning.
I’d assumed they were just a local band, who’d maybe done some self-released indie albums. I was vaguely aware of Suspicious Activities Records through Professor Hernandez, and I didn’t get the impression of them being a small operation.
It was like winning the lottery— going from working at a music store while sitting on a music degree, to getting the chance to sign with a recognized label. I felt the urge to pinch myself, but it felt too cliché. Instead, I breathed slowly, paying attention to my heart and hoping it was okay.
