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Normally, I’d use homework or frat bullshit in an attempt to back out or convince them to turn the gig down. With classes ending today for the semester and winter break in full swing, I couldn’t come up with a valid excuse quick enough.
I’m not going home for break—they know this.
I don’t have any other commitments.
My schedule is wide open for the next three weeks until the semester starts back up.
NASH: I know it’s not your favorite place, but we could use the money, Colt. We don’t have any other gigs coming up unless you booked something and failed to mention it.
For them, it’s always about the money. I’ve been scrimping and saving for years. I don’t spend a penny I don’t have to. Not because I don’t want to either. My financial aid allots me only a certain amount to live on each semester, and I stretch it as far as it will go. I know how to make a dime feel like a dollar. And I’m not ashamed of that.
My frugal ways have allowed to me save a good chunk of money for after graduation. It’s not enough to sustain me very long, so any extra cash would be a bonus. Which means taking the gig, even though I’d rather not.
ME: I’ll start putting out feelers after the holidays. Try to see if I can book a few gigs for January.
ACE: BJ’s pays the most. Maybe they’ll let us fill Thursday nights regularly.
That’s what I’m afraid of. As much as they want to see our name in lights one day, to tour the country and play the big arenas, that’s not my dream. It’s a pipe dream considering no one outside of Lake State has ever heard of us. And I’m afraid at the end of the day, our fate is going to be similar to our name.
Fade Into Nothing.
NASH: Can’t hurt to ask.
Nash’s final text from last night rattles around in my head as I watch him fiddle with his drumsticks. He and Ace finished setting up a few minutes ago and are currently sitting on the edge of the stage flirting with two girls. I’ve seen them before. They’ve been to a few shows. I’m not sure how they heard we were playing tonight since it was a last-minute thing, but I honestly don’t give a damn either. That’s two more people in the audience cheering, riling up the crowd.
“This place smells like shit.”
What the hell is he doing here? I purposely failed to mention where we were playing tonight so none of the guys would be able to come. If I can’t stand to be here, and I grew up in places like this, then I doubt any of my brothers would be caught dead here.
“No worse than the house after a few of the parties over the years.” Turning to face Max, I’m not surprised to find his nose wrinkled in disgust.
“It’s worse, man. Way worse. Why the hell did you take this gig?”
“Out voted.”
“Doesn’t your vote count more than the others? You founded the band. You’re the lead singer.”
“Nope. We agreed a long time ago we all had an equal stake in the game.” Max shakes his head before dusting off the bar stool next to me, carefully taking a seat. “What are you doing here?”
“Needed a favor and thought it’d be better to ask you in person.”
Max needing a favor is rare. Don’t get me wrong, he asks us for shit all the time. He refuses to call those things favors, though. Which means, whatever he’s about to ask me, I’m not going to like.
“How much am I going to want to punch you in the face after you ask?”
Max chuckles, but it’s forced.
“Depends how you feel about Cleo.”
Now I’m the one who’s laughing because I don’t feel anything about her. She’s the Zeta president. We have no reason to cross paths unless one of our houses is hosting an event. The last time I saw her was at Thanksgiving dinner, and she kind of faded into the background considering Max was pummeling Leo’s face.
Still, I can’t help but take a free jab at Max since he brought her up.
“Well, she has a way of getting under your skin, so I guess she’s okay.”
“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath.
“What do you need, Max? We have sound check in a minute, and I want to get some fresh air before we start our set.”
