Page 57 of The Drummer

“Sorry about that,” I mutter. “You know, sometimes I wish my life was more shallow, but then I talk to TJ. He always snaps me out of it.”

“TJ?”

“Our manager.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah… He’s awesome at what he does, it’s just unfortunatelyallhe does. He tried to call Luke.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh…”

“Yeah.”

Only TJ would think that was a good idea. Let’s call the guy who blew up the band to harass him with mandates to put it back together. I’m surprised we didn’t hear a phone hitting the wall in Luke’s room.

My gaze crosses to the hallway as the gravity of my conversation with TJ sinks in. As irritating as his animated delivery can be, he’s not an alarmist. If he’s worried, I should be too.

Do I talk to Luke? Try to smooth things over? Maybe TJ’s right. Maybe now’s the time to finally have a heart to heart about the future of the band. It’s not just my career on the line. Sweeny, Eli, the entire army of staff and crew who are already making arrangements to follow us around the country in the fall…

No. I can’t bring it up yet. I’m still trying to convince him not to kick me out of his suite.

I have no idea how I’m going to pull off the impossible.

With a long exhale, I focus back on Callie. “We have four months before our next tour and they want at least three new tracks. We should be releasing an entire album and building the tour around that, but they know that’s not going to happen. They’re okay releasing the album next year if we can have some new material now.”

Her expression sags with understanding. She read the part I’m not saying.

“But without Luke…” she finishes quietly.

I press the heels of my palms to my eyes and shake my head. “I don’t know, Callie. I honestly don’t. I mean, I’ve got some ideas, but…”

“Maybe I can help.”

I drop my hands and stare at her. “What?”

She returns a shy shrug. “I mean, I’ve never written a song before, but I write a ton of poetry. Is it a lot different?”

Is it a lot different… jotting down some pretty words in a journal versus navigating the cannibalistic vortex that is the music industry?

Yeah. It’s a lot different.

But I’m not about to take any chances with teasing her after what happened earlier. It’s sweet that she wants to help. Of course she does. She probably would have made the same offer if I needed a kidney. It’s just who she is.

I pass a quick look around the disaster of a living room.Honestly, it could be fun to explore our creative sides together. Heaven knows we need something to fill the hours in this suite waiting for The Emperor of Brood to emerge from his cave.

My career-saving demo probably isn’t the best project for our first collaboration, though.

I try to keep my tone as sincere and humor-free as possible. “Well, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, it’s just, I mean, it’s not that easy. There’s a lot of politics to songwriting. The band, the Label, legal stuff…”

“Okay, so we don’t write for Night Shifts Black. We just write to have something to do while we hang out, and try to find you some inspiration.”

Damn. Did she read my mind? A shiver runs through me at how in sync we are.

I search her face when a hint of doubt creeps into my head. People don’t just give their time and talent without expecting something in return. I’ve been burned more times than I can count, in ways I never saw coming. By reaching the top, I’ve achieved the status of being the connected ladder rung people step on to reach their own summit.

“Really? You’d do that?” I try not to sound as skeptical as I feel.

But her casual shrug shows no sign of exploitation. She looks like it makes no difference to her if I say yes or no. This really is about me, not her.

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