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I sat next to Jamie and dug my phone from my pocket, flying to my email. Another text from Bennett popped up. Swiping it away, I opened the email and read aloud . . .
“Elliot Whittaker and the Savaged Whittakers—”
“Savaged Whittakers?” Jillian interrupted.
“His band, shush,” Jamie snapped.
I cleared my throat and continued, “My name is Carson Bently, the owner, and CEO, of Pacific Sound Records. One of my agents, Liam, had the pleasure of meeting with you at The Piano Bar in Portland Oregon a few weeks ago. Needless to say, he is thrilled to work with you in the future. And, from what I’ve heard, so am I. We think your sound is the perfect fit for our label and would love to set up a meeting with you and the rest of your band. Please respond with five original tracks for us to sample and we will reach out with timing to meet. If this goes further, we will fly the band out to our studio for a performance and, if we really like what we hear, discuss the contract situation. I look forward to your response and hope to meet with you soon. Sincerely, Carson Bently, CEO, Pacific Sound Records.”
I dropped my hand down, my phone going dark, exhaling a breath through my mouth.
“Elliot . . .” Jamie spoke softly. “That’s . . . that’s . . . holy shit! First your company and now this! This is crazy!”
“I need to call Bennett, he has all the tracks, he can send over a few of our popular ones—”
“Why doesn’t this Carson Bently guy just go on Spotify, they’re all there, aren’t they?” Jillian asked.
I furrowed my brow at her. “You listened?”
“Jamie played them for me, but I didn’t know what the band was called. I get the Whittakers . . . but Savaged?”
“Bennett Savage. It meshed.”
“No, I like it.” Jillian smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. “It fits.”
A corner of my lips raised in a small smile in response to Jillian.
“So, Bennett will send over some tracks . . .” Jamie prodded.
“And then we wait for a date to go to California.” I turned to her, resisting the urge to pull her in for a kiss in front of her sister and nephews.
“Daxton?”
Everyone at the table froze at the sound of my middle name. When Jillian was in the room, I was Elliot. Everyone else in her family still called me Daxton, or Dax, but with Jillian being the only one who knew our secret, I could be myself around her. I turned to the sound and saw Pete, the owner of The Cabin, standing at the end of our table.
“Oh, hey, Pete.” I settled, remembering that he was introduced to me as Daxton. “Good to see you, man.”
“Likewise, I couldn’t help but overhear, you have a band . . . and Pacific Sound is interested?” He smiled, shifting his weight as he folded his arms over his chest.
“Yes, sir. I do.”
“He’s the lead singer.” Jamie smiled as she slid her hand up my back.
Pete’s smile grew. “You know, I’ve had a few people ask about you after karaoke that night. Just solo you put on a show. Thursday and Friday’s I have band come and play; I’d love to see you again, and then, maybe your entire band, up on my stage.”
Jillian gasped and spun her head to look at me across the table. “Elliot, you have to.”
“I’d love to, but I don’t have a guitar here and my band is in Portland.”
Pete gave me a slight nod. “If you can get a guitar, I can get your band here.”
“Seriously?” Jamie’s voice rang in my ear as I studied the man in front of me.
“Yes, seriously. You’re visiting, how long are you here till?” Pete asked.
“Um, we leave on the 26thto head back to Portland.”
“Come play on the 23rdwith your band, and this Thursday solo. Can you get a guitar by then?” Pete asked, his eyes narrowing.
