AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Right,” Marcella answered. “We haven’t talked about what it would look like, but yeah, that’s what he means.”
“How much would something like that cost?” Wade asked.
“We’d have to work that out. Darrin’s got some contacts who might do good work on the cheap.” Dash stood and shook his empty bottle, signaling to the others that he was getting a fresh one. Dawn and Kenny lifted their empties, and he grabbed them. As he walked to the fridge, he said, “Before we do that work, though, we have to decide whether we want to do the video at all.”
Kenny leaned back in the ratty mustard-yellow sofa. “One thing I can say straight up: I will not sign up for anything that puts you two in the spotlight and leaves the rest of us in the dark. Half of Tulsa thinks we’re Marcella’s backup band as it is.”
“More than half,” Wade added.
Marcella didn’t bother to defend herself; she didn’t have to. She understood why the others would feel a bit jealous or sidelined. She’d probably feel the same if the roles were reversed. But she’d been in this band for twenty years, longer than Dawn or Wade, and when she’d joined, the Lowdowners almost immediately started to get better gigs and more fans. The band had voted to put her name out front, to capitalize on her popularity.
Now they were fairly dominant in the regional scene, making enough money that they’d all been able to quit their normal jobs years ago. That wasn’t all to her credit alone, but there was a reason they’d voted to put her name out in front. Her voice had defined the band’s sound, and her lyrics were defining their identity.
“We sing the song, so yeah, unless we do something with actors, we’ll be featured,” Dash said, handing out a fresh round.
“Then let’s do something with actors,” Dawn said.
“That’s gotta be more expensive,” Wade said. He was the band treasurer and always had his eye on the bottom line.
“Wait, wait.” Marcella put her hand up. “We’re talking like we want to do this, and we haven’t even voted. Shouldn’t we vote before we start arguing over details?”
“The lady’s got a point,” Kenny said. “I’m in.”
“Show of hands, people,” said Dash. “All those in favor of producing an artsy-fartsy video for ‘One Last Lonely Night?”
Five hands went up, all but Wade’s. He said, “Hold up. I don’t like the way the question was phrased.”
Dash let him see he was annoyed. “How would you phrase it, Einstein?”
Ignoring the bait, Wade answered the question. “All those in favor ofgetting more informationabout producing a video for ‘One Last Lonely Night.’”
Kenny groaned, “Come on, bruh. You’re such a buzzkill. We’re not a bunch of suits or politicians. We don’t need to set up some exploratory committee or whatever first. We can just change our minds if it’s too much. Don’t nitpick.”
“It’s not nitpicking, you dick. I don’t want to say okay to a video like that until we know how much it’s gonna cost. Actors? Effects? Equipment? A script? A director? Even on the cheap, that’s gonna cost, and I want to know what good it does for the band before we lay out that kind of money—that we don’t even know we have, because we don’t know how much we’ll need!”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a moron, asshole,” Kenny sniped back.
These two hotheads were about to start a fire, so Marcella cut in. “I don’t want to get bogged down in procedure, either, but I think Wade’s got a point. We shouldn’t be voting on making a video like this until we know what we’re in for.”
“I don’t think it matters either way,” Dawn said. “You’re both right—we should know how much before we commit, but can vote again if it’s too expensive. It’s just the six of us. I don’t know why the wording of the vote matters.”
“Because we tend to find shit to fight about every time we try to do something big,” Joe said, in his only contribution to the conversation so far. Joe had been around since the high-school-garage-band days, and he let almost everything roll off his back. He was generally happiest to sit back and let the drama unfold around him. “I say we vote on Wade’s question and vote again once we know the score.”
With a loud sigh to make sure everybody knew Daddy was tired of this shit, Dash said, “All. Those. In. Favor. Of.Getting.Information. About. Making. A. Video.”
Six hands went up. Kenny’s came with a bonus middle finger.
Ah, the joys of being in a band.
~oOo~
Marcella made it to the soccer fields about twenty minutes before the end of Ajax’s practice, which meant she got to sit and watch him play. She tried never to miss a game, but it was rare she got to watch practices—which she liked better. Games made her tense, worried for her boy in myriad ways, from not wanting him to get hurt to wanting him to do well and have fun.
He took games very seriously, and beat himself up when he made mistakes during them, because he felt he’d let his teammates down. At practice, though, even if he was struggling with something, the pressure was off. Ajax had a really mature outlook on learning.
When he was seven, Marcella had enrolled him in a kids’ drawing class at the art museum, and the teacher had explained about the value of mistakes in learning. Her mantra had been ‘mistakes are masterpieces in the making,’ and Ajax had carried that lesson out of art class and into his whole life. At soccer practice, drawing, messing around with the skateboard Yvonne and Chase had given him for his tenth birthday, doing homework, playing his little guitar, taking photos, whatever Ajax was doing, he embraced his mistakes, paused to think about what he’d done wrong and how he could do better, and learned.
Feeling no pressure in practice, appreciating the chance to get better, he was the picture of joy. Marcella loved to sit on the sidelines and watch her boy grin and laugh like the soccer field was a playground.
