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Nick strolls into the studio as we’re packing away the last few instruments. He’s carrying a stack of paperwork in his hands. He looks up when he notices we’re no longer playing.
“You guys sounded good.” He glances at each of us in turn and I’m waiting for him to make some smart-ass remark, but it never comes and for once I think the compliment might have actually been genuine. “Next week we move to the warehouse. The stage has roughly the same dimensions as the stages at the larger venues on the tour, and I want you guys to start working within that kind of space. It’ll give you more of an idea of how much room you’ll have and how closely you can interact with each other. The fans love it when you guys play around with one another.”
Kael laughs, rubbing his hands over his bald head. “What is it with chicks digging guy-on-guy action? I’ve only got to look in Quinn’s direction and I swear the chicks up front just about cream themselves.”
“Nice,” deadpans Nick. He’s chewing on the end of a pen. “The record label has decided to try something a little different with theGoodbye NYshow. I know Radiator Fluid has been supporting you guys for years now, and they do an incredible job, don’t get me wrong. But the label has decided to cut back their set by about four songs, to allow another support act into the mix. The second support will be more low key, not a big-name ticket.”
“Why would they do that?” I ask, wiping a towel over my face. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“Trust me, Reed, if it doesn’t work out, the studio will drop the second act like a hot potato. They won’t waste money on something that doesn’t turn out to be a financial benefit to them. The labels aren’t in this just for kicks, remember?”
“I guess.” I shrug, jumping down from the edge of the stage. “They got anyone in mind?”
“Not yet,” he replies, watching me pack my things into a duffel bag. “They’re still scouring around for the right fit. I’ll let you know when they book someone so you can check them out and see how you feel about it. I don’t think you’ll get the final say, but the label will take your opinions into consideration.”
I nod, slipping my arms into my jacket. “I’m heading out if we’re done here. I… uh, I’ve got someplace I need to be.”
“Where are you going?” asks Jaxon.
“Some place I need to be.”
Jaxon snorts. He shakes his head, exchanging a quick look with Kael that doesn’t go unnoticed.Nosy bastards.I glance across at Quinn, but he’s not paying the conversation an ounce of attention. Instead, he’s got his head buried in his cell phone, a stupid smile plastered on his face as he thumbs out a text message to fucking Christ knows who. He’s been so distracted lately, by what, I’m not sure. But then again, so have I.
I miss knowing what’s going on in his life.
I set a reminder in my phone to call him later and catch up with my best friend.
Until then, like I said, I got somewhere to be and I don’t want to be late.
Brinley
Ifeel like shit.
No, worse than shit. I feel like death.
I woke up earlier this week with a cold. And it’s gradually gotten worse. I’ve never felt this sick before. My throat is raw and scratchy and I can’t stop coughing. I think I have a fever too, but it’s hard to tell because my apartment is so cold.
Yawning, I down a couple of ibuprofen to help chase away the headache I can’t seem to get rid of. My head feels too heavy for my shoulders, and I’m barely able to breathe through my nose. It’s bright red and flowing like a river.
I pop a lozenge into my mouth and suck all the sweet honey goodness down my throat. I probably need more than a lozenge right now, but it’s the only thing in my apartment that even slightly resembles a vitamin.
I paid Ray half the rent I owed him, and it just about wiped me out–no, he did not turn on the heat despite me begging, because apparently‘that not deal, missy’–so I’ll have to wait a couple more days before I can buy some groceries.
A coughing fit takes over me, my chest as tight as a drum and it really hurts to breathe.
There’s a knock on the door and I jump at the sound of Reed’s deep voice saying my name. “Tink, you in there? It’s just me. Can I come in?”
Damn it.What’s he doing here?
I really don’t want him to see me like this.
“Tink?” he calls a little louder, knocking harder this time.
“I’m coming,” I say, but my voice is croaky.
My entire body hurts as I drag my feet toward the front door.
