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“I never doubted you for a second,” Kom chuckled.
* * * *
Matt’s breakthrough with his third song carried over into his fourth. Both were done the same week. He struggled again when it came to the fifth tune, but it wasn’t the song itself fighting him. It was because it was about his father.
“It’s excellent you’re using your art to express the pain,” Retel encouraged him at their regular session.
“It’s a valid avenue to exorcise your demons, so to speak,” Sanderson concurred. “What an opportunity, thanks to Casual Innuendo. I’m delighted you’re taking hold of it.”
Matt wasn’t sure he would. It was one thing to write his songs and play them for his clan and the small crowds at Den of the Departed. He thought he could also handle a second gig. Solomon had offered him Nineday, the busiest night of the week, in addition to his regular Sevenday set.
Matt had even begun speaking to local musicians, in the hope of playing with a band instead of backing tracks. But to aim for the bigtime, to ask the biggest manager to offer his music to a worldwide audience…and beyond?
He didn’t mention his doubts to Retel and Sanderson. He concentrated on each step as he took it, pushing himself where he could at a given moment. He couldn’t see beyond performing at Den of the Departed or writing and playing for his recorder. He wouldn’t consider it until the fifth song was ready.
Unfortunately, it would be less than a week, and it would be done. Then he’d have to decide if he’d bare himself to potential devastating rejection. Matt wasn’t sure he could face it.
* * * *
“Two people offered you money to record them singing and playing?” Avir’s brow rose as he gathered dinner plates from the table.
“I played them my demo and asked them about being members of a backup band. They were impressed by my recording work. Oh, they said they’d be glad to play with me too, so I might start rehearsing with them once I have a full set of original work.” Matt wiped his mouth with a napkin and rose to help clear the table.
“Sounds good.” Avir gently steered him to his original question. “But they offered to pay you to record them?”
“Yeah, well, demos are expensive to record at a dedicated studio, though there’s so little work involved.” Matt carried a tray of leftover pilchok to the kitchen to store. He kept eating golden chunks of his favorite Kalquorian food as he went, despite being stuffed.
“Give me that before you burst,” Masok chided, taking the tray from him.
Matt belched and grabbed another piece. “There. I made room.”
Kom laughed. He fed dirty dishes into the washing intake.
“You could earn an income from doing this?” Avir had followed Matt in and joined Kom in loading. “Not because you need to, but I’m curious.”
“If enough people want the service. If studios are charging so much for three- to five-song demos, I could possibly make a killing undercutting their fees.”
“I wonder why they demand a ton of money for demo recordings?” Masok said.
“Probably because they rake in so much more by scheduling professional bands who have the big bucks to throw around for a four-week session. Tying up the studio for those trying to break in probably costs them.”
“Interesting. It might be worth us looking into,” Avir said to Masok.
Matt’s eyes rolled. “You can’t take an actual extended break from the businesses you have, and you’re considering adding another? Especially a business involving equal helpings of ego and self-doubt?”
Avir chuckled. “The inability to successfully tear ourselves from one of our corporations has us considering selling it and investing in something else.”
“Speaking of towering egos.” Masok shook his head. “Those are what keep dragging us to the office during our vacation, entitled clients who use those particular services. If you advise us, we might find the music business less problematic.”
“I don’t know about that, but it does offer me an important advantage. Even if I suck as a musician myself, you’d have to allow me to record to keep me happy.” Matt rubbed his hands together in pretended glee, adding an evil laugh.
“You absolutely do not suck.” Avir’s tone held a warning as he washed his hands, then he paused and tossed a grin at Matt. “Well, as far as music’s concerned, anyway.”
“The sucking you do could win prizes,” Kom agreed. “The award for best use of mouth goes to…Matthew ‘Lips’ Larsen!”
“Don’t you dare call me Lips in front of anybody,” Matt groaned. “Prophets, if a nickname like that stuck, I’d jump off the cliff.”
“What’s it worth to you?” The nude Nobek had a glint in his eyes, and his cocks perked up.
