Page 25 of Dark Room Junkie

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Robert went through every single point of the contract with me, explaining everything I needed to know about the tour. That’s how I found out that the opening acts essentially bought in, covering most of the costs. The label covered the rest and paid us our contractual share. When I learned how much we would get paid, I almost choked on my water.

“You’ll be on the road until the end of May.”

“And hopefully in June, we’ll already be recording new songs!” Marco proclaimed from the other side of the table.

“Coffee?” the waitress asked me.

I glanced over my shoulder and smiled at her. She was cute. Somehow, I felt like I’d met her before. Her face turned slightly red, and she tensed up a bit as she held the pen, waiting for my answer.

We must have met before.

“No, thank you,” I said with a charming grin.

Robert ordered a cappuccino, and Chris ordered an espresso, while I poured myself some more water.

“Do you guys have any new material?” I asked.

“We have a few songs, but they’re not quite polished yet,” Marco replied. “We still have some time, though. If you have anything, you can bring it anytime.”

“What about the song rights?” I asked Robert.

“For new songs, it’s up for negotiation.”

“Nonsense!” Lukas exclaimed, grinning at me. “Don’t listen to him. The song rights belong to us.”

Robert smiled mischievously. “It’s worth a try.”

When we entered the restaurant, Robert was already sitting with Ramon and Lukas at the table. He was around fifty and looked a bit like Kevin Spacey in his dark blue plaid shirt, with a slightly roguish face and a very friendly smile. I still didn’t fully trust him, but he seemed okay. Plus, he was some sort of uncle to Lukas, which didn’t mean much, but somehow meant something. So, I eventually took the pen and signed the contract.

I had nothing to lose. There was nothing to gain from someone who had nothing.

The guys cheered and applauded, knocking on the table. When the waitress brought out the coffee, Robert said, “Let’s toast to that. Do you want a beer? Or a glass of wine?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, placing the pen back on the table.

“What do your parents think about you becoming a rockstar? Your mother must be proud of you,” Robert asked.

My facial expression slipped away. I wasn’t prepared for his remark about my mother. It seemed like everyone at the table could sense my discomfort at that moment.

“Are your parents still alive? Or did I hit a sore spot here?” Robert asked tentatively.

“His father is Canadian,” Marco interjected casually.

“I see. And your mother?”

I swallowed the shock, collected myself, and took a deep breath. “That’s private,” I said, looking slightly annoyed at Marco.

He just shrugged.

“It’s good that you set a boundary,” Robert said in an approving tone as if the question had been a test. “But maybe you should prepare some answers because you’ll be giving interviews sooner or later. Be better prepared for such questions.”

I nodded and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

In the bathroom, I locked myself in the stall and took deep breaths. In and out. I clenched my hand into a fist and stared at my knuckles. The wound I had inflicted on myself by hitting the wall was now healed, and the bruising didn’t hurt anymore. But I felt this pulling sensation inside me. I desperately needed something to relieve it. The craving for alcohol overshadowed everything else, and it took a lot for me not to order a beer. I knew that giving in would be the beginning of the end.

The contract was signed now. Steffan was probably already waiting for me. But it wasn’t even half past eight yet. Definitely too early to leave from here.

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