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“But he doesn’t like her.”
“He doesn’t like anyone. So if he found someone he likes, it would be pretty great, don’t you think?”
“Who are you, and what have you done with Denver? The last I knew, you didn’t give a shit about anyone’s love life.”
“I’m just observant, that’s all. It doesn’t mean I care. Just like I know you’re in love with Brit. To me, it’s kind of obvious. But I don’t want to talk about that.” He shoved the papers under my nose. “I want to talk about this.”
“The fuck?” I said, because I was still annoyed, and was I that transparent? The note Brit had written felt like it was burning a hole against my skin. But looking at Denver’s papers was an easy way to avoid talking about it, so I took them.
There were a couple of pages that had been folded together. The top one was a printout of a real estate listing. Denver must have printed it at the hotel in New York. It was a building for sale on the outskirts of Vancouver, just outside of Portland and across the border in Washington.
I frowned as I read it. “A building? You want to buy a building?”
“Look.” Denver pointed. “They’ve knocked fifty grand off of the price. They want to unload it. It’s in a rundown area that used to be an industrial park, and half of the businesses either moved out or went under.”
“Wow, sounds great,” I said drily. “You’re a real mogul, Denny.”
“It’s cheap as shit, they’re motivated, and it’s zoned commercial,” Denver said.
Now I was more confused. Since when had Denver cared about municipal zoning laws?
Then I looked at the next page, and I started to get it.
I looked at the page after that, and I saw the light.
“Holy shit,” I said softly.
“It’s good, right?” Denver asked, nervous. “Do you think? Tell me the truth, Shimmy.”
I swallowed hard, looking at the pages again, then again. Speechless.
It was a recording studio. Denver wanted a building so we could make a recording studio.
He’d drawn plans, diagrams. The studio would be on the lower level, fully equipped. There were a couple of offices at the back, a rehearsal room, and a central room he called a “songwriting room,” where musicians could get together and hash out ideas.
The second floor—this was genius—was two apartments, linked by a connecting door. They were spacious, each with a kitchen, living room, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. Since the building was concrete, the apartments could be soundproofed from the studio below.
“You plan to live here?” I asked.
“With Callie, if I can convince her,” was his soft answer. “She hasn’t seen this yet. We’d be here part time. We’d keep either my house or her apartment in Portland for when we’re in the city.” He tapped the drawing. “The second apartment is a spare for anyone working late. You know how sessions can go until morning.”
I did know. I’d done more than one all-nighter when we recorded our own albums. I shook my head, following Denny’s line of logic. “This isn’t just for us,” I said. “You’re talking about recording other bands, too. You’re talking about being a label.”
“Our own label,” he said.
I was speechless all over again.
“Listen,” he said, because he could tell how hard this was hitting me. “What have we been hearing ever since Detroit? The band’s blowing up, we’re more popular than ever, we’re about to hit it big for the first time. All that shit. Everyone wants an album, but we know that means we sign with some big label that fucks us over.” He tapped the page. “Not if we make our own album. We make our own tour schedule, too. You think you’re the only one who can’t tour anymore, Shimmy? I’m useless without Callie. Neal’s in love with Raine, and he doesn’t want to leave Amber anymore. Stone needs to figure his shit out. This here—this is the key.”
“Holy fuck,” I said softly, because this wasn’t just an idea. It wasn’t just the answer to most of the problems we were facing right now.
It was a dream. When was the last time any of us had dreamed?
“Where do we get the money?” I asked.
“We all throw some in,” Denver said. “You know who else has money and wants in? Roy.”
“Our audio engineer?” Roy worked at a studio in downtown Portland, and he’d mixed all three of our albums.
