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Startled, her body jerks slightly before turning her beautiful hazel eyes on mine. “Oh, I didn’t expect you to be this early.” Reaching for her coffee cup, she moves it aside and quickly puts her laptop on the seat beside her.
Sliding into the booth across from her, I ask, “Are you always this early to meetings?”
“Dad was Air Force, and I’ve been engrained since I could tell time that if you show up on time—you’re late. Besides, I was already up and didn’t want to wake my sisters.”
The waitress arrives and refills Sloane’s cup with coffee. When I push mine toward her, she fills it to the brim. With a cheery smile, she states, “I’ll give you some time to look at the menu. Be back in a few.”
As soon as she leaves, I ask, “Are you staying at a local hotel?”
“No, we’re staying at Nana’s—Uh, I guess it’s our house… now that she’s gone.”
“So…” I draw out, trying to piece the puzzle together. Before I can censor my thoughts, I blurt out, “You live around here?”
“Well, I have most summers since I was a kid. But like I said, my dad was in the Air Force, so we didn’t live near here. Seaside was Nana’s home and the one place we always return to. Even now that she’s gone, it’s still where we feel most at home.”
Before taking another sip of coffee, I ask, “Is your entire family here for the summer?”
“No, only my sisters and me. Mom’s a traveling nurse, and Dad’s stationed at Lewis-McChord. But enough about me. We’re supposed to be talking about you.”
I knew it would just be a matter of time before she turned the table, but I’d much rather talk about her. Sighing heavily, I admit, “Trust me, you’re way more interesting.”
I’ll admit I’m impressed he showed up so early for our meeting. You can tell a lot about a person who’s punctual. This tells me I might not have pegged him right. Most musicians are rarely early; rather, they’re egotistical and try pitching themselves to me the moment they learn my role in the company. Jax, surprisingly, is quite the opposite. He seems more interested in getting to know me than focusing on his career.
As the regional talent coordinator at Smashing Waves Records, I’m more than used to contending with the talent and their egos. But something’s different with Jax. Sure, he’s confident, but I’m not sensing his ego is out of check in the slightest. In fact, he’s quite humble.
Needing to see if my gut instinct is right, I choose to take the lead from him and not talk about his music just yet. “You said last night that you’re from Seaside. My sister’s boyfriend mentioned you being in school with him. Have you always lived here?”
His brows knit together for the briefest of moments, then he asks, “Who’s your sister’s boyfriend?”
“Ryan Murdock. He and Lanie met last summer when Nana hired his family’s company to renovate our house.”
“Ryan’s a great guy. He’s been away at college for a while. I wasn’t aware he was back in town. He still working with his dad?”
“Yeah, he and Lanie just graduated a few weeks ago. He’s working with his dad’s company, and she was just hired on at the middle school here in town. For the first time ever, she’ll live here year-round.”
“What about you? Do you live here year-round?”
“For now, I’m doing an internship with Smashing Waves Records. It’s a huge opportunity, with the possibility of a full-time position if everything pans out. They’ve got offices in both Portland and LA as well as team members following the talent, so I’m not sure where I’ll land.”
Leaning forward to rest his arms on the edge of the table, he asks, “Does this mean you’re here for the rest of the summer?”
Reel it in, Sloane. This isn’t about you. Switch our focus to him. Tara’s dying to get him to try out for the competition. Like me, she thinks he has what it takes.
“Yeah. I’m here through the end of July at least. Like I said, I’m not sure where I’ll end up. But tell me, what got you into playing music like that last night?”
A slow smile spreads across his lips as he looks to his hands around his coffee mug. “I’ve been playing for the last couple of years.”
“Do you play any other instruments?”
“Can I?” He pulls his lower lip under his teeth, then admits, “Yeah. I suppose. Mom started me with piano when I was younger. But I can also play bass and drums, besides lead guitar. But I wouldn’t say I’m proficient enough to do much more than write music for songs on all of them.”
Jax’s modesty is refreshing. But after hearing his song last night, I’m curious. “Do you write most of your own music?”
Shrugging, he admits, “I’ve written quite a bit. But I also can cover quite a few crowd favorites.”
Pulling up my calendar on my phone so I can get him onto my schedule, I eagerly ask, “When’s your next gig? I’d love to check out more of your songs in another performance.”
Instead of answering, Jax is suddenly extremely interested in his coffee cup.
