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I lift my brows, shocked at her encouragement. “How do you know?”
“Simon told me about you last night.” Her smile is small. Maybe even a little bit naughty. “He gets off on making money, and he firmly believes you’re going to make him a lot. Again.”
She opens the door before I can respond, and I’m left standing there for a few seconds, shocked she’d talk about her sex life with Simon and how the idea of making a bucketload of money... what, makes him horny?
There’s something vaguely gross about that.
“Mr. Ramsey has arrived,” the assistant announces, my cue to follow her inside the office. She turns to me. “Want something to drink?”
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
“Water?”
“I’ve got Voss,” Simon calls out.
I roll my eyes. Back in the day, I was the asshole who wouldn’t drink any water unless it was Voss. Such a pretentious little prick. “I’ll take some water, please. Whatever you’ve got.”
She smiles and leaves the room, closing the door behind her while I head deeper into Simon’s office.
He’s standing, gesturing toward the empty chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Roger is already here.”
I glance over to see the record exec who took us on back in the day sitting in the chair next to mine, his hair a little grayer, but otherwise he appears exactly the same. “Tate.”
“Roger.” I nod, rearing back a little when he rises, thrusting his hand toward me. I take it, giving him a firm shake, surprised to see the sincerity shining in his gaze.
“Bloody good performance this weekend.” His hand is still clutching mine, giving it a vigorous shake. “Your voice blew me away.”
“Thank you.” I withdraw my hand from his and settle into my chair, glancing over at Simon helplessly. I have no idea what to say next or why they called this meeting in the first place. I mean, I can assume they want to talk to me about possibly recording a new album, but maybe that’s a stretch.
And then again, maybe it’s not.
“Look, let’s get right to it.” Roger leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his body angled toward mine. “You sounded fucking fantastic at that party Saturday night, Tate. Have you been working on your vocals? Getting some training, lessons or whatever?”
Not really. Only a couple of sessions to get back into it prior to the performance, but I don’t want to seem lazy. “Definitely. I’ve been working on my singing and vocal strength for a while.”
“It shows.” The sincerity all over Roger’s face almost makes me want to laugh. “You’ve never sounded better. Everyone is raving about you online. On TV. You are everywhere right now. The comeback kid, sitting on top of the world once again. It’s unbelievable, man.”
Tell me about it.
“I’m just grateful they had a good time at the party while I performed,” I say, trying for humble. Feeling, for once in my life, actually humble. I learned my lesson from the last time I had a taste of fame. Being an asshole gets you no friends. And a shitty attitude only creates enemies. “And I’m grateful that you enjoyed my performance as well.”
“I more than enjoyed it, Tate. I practically jizzed in my pants, you sounded so damn good.”
I say nothing, just stare at Roger blankly while Simon coughs to cover up his discomfort. That statement is so typical Roger. I forgot how grossly blunt he is and how he always tends to take things a little too far. “That’s... awesome, Roger.”
He throws back his head and laughs, pleased he rattled me, no doubt. “I mean it, kid. You have that million-dollar face, and now you’ve got a million-dollar voice to go along with it. Back when you were with Five Car Pileup, I knew you had potential, but you were held back by the other bandmates. Well, them, and your voice hadn’t really matured yet. Plus, you epically fucked everything up with all of your... issues.”
Always gotta remind me how I ruined everything, don’t they? “I made a lot of mistakes in my past. I’d like to think I’ve grown up and won’t act like that anymore.”
Roger squints at me. “How old are you now, kid?”
I hate how he keeps calling mekid. “Twenty-one.”
“Just a baby then.” He leans back in his chair, contemplating me. “Still drinking?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t had a drop in three years.”
And I definitely don’t feel like a baby. I’ve seen and done a lot more than the average twenty-one-year-old guy.
