Page 52 of Get Even

“Why are you even here at,” I checked the time on my phone, “almost four in the morning? I mean it was weird before but now that I know you own all this shit…”

His jaw clenched for a second before he relaxed, holding open the door that led to the microphone booth behind the mixing decks. “I have insomnia.”

“Oh,” I said and walked into the room, letting him follow behind me and decided to let that slip by. “So what do you want me to sing?”

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

NO. 1 PARTY ANTHEM - ARCTIC MONKEYS

My throat hurt,I’d sobered up around the fifth song Max got me to record but everything still felt warm and fuzzy. I was having… fun.

Despite the fact that Max was the big boss and therefore should have been intimidating, it was hard to feel like that when he was pretending to rock out to an air guitar. Plus, I’d guessed correctly before, he was only four years older than me at twenty-five. He’d bought the studio with family money and surprisingly, that hadn’t rankled me. He was clearly doing this because he loved it and he was good at it too, he knew way more about music theory than I did.

“Are you on any socials?” Max asked as I span in the office chair next to the mixers.

“What? Oh, no. Had to delete them when the nude was leaked.”

Max gave me a sympathetic look but nodded, “Well, we’re definitely going to want to get you back on them at some point, especially that one that’s so hyped right now – TakTic?”

I snorted, “Right, yeah sure.”

“So if you’re down with it, I’m happy with everything that I’ve seen. You’d be the first new artist signed to our Sun City label.”

I blinked. Just like that? “Really?”

Max smiled and it transformed his face, lighting his eyes and making a dimple pop in his right cheek, “Do you know how many people I could sit and jam with for, say, five hours?” He raised an eyebrow, “You’re talented, Jamie. But more than that, you’re down-to-Earth and genuinely nice. Which is always a plus. Take some time, get a lawyer to look over the contract, but we can sign a prelim agreement now to show that an offer has been made if you want it or need it for an employer or something.”

This was really happening. I pinched my arm. “What exactly are you offering me?”

“A contract to sing for us, it’ll be a mixture of your own stuff – some of your covers will be fab for TakTic – and we have songwriters on the team. Unless that’s something you’re also into?”

I shrugged slightly, “Only when the mood takes me but I don’t think they’re very good.”

“You never know,” he said, standing and stretching. “You could always work with one of our writers and turn what you already have into something better.”

I nodded thoughtfully, that did sound like something I’d enjoy, similar to when I’d sit and play around meshing songs for covers.

“What changed your mind in the end?” Max asked as he rifled through papers in a drawer next to him. “About coming to do the test recording I mean.”

“My mom, actually,” I smiled wryly and he raised one honey-coloured eyebrow at me.

“You guys are close?”

“Not at all,” I said and a small smile curled his mouth and he nodded like he could relate. “It’s funny really, sitting in here with you singing, getting offered a contract –did you know I used to sing at the strip club across the street?”

Max handed me the prelim paper to sign and a pen and smiled, “Small world, I guess. You’re a local then?”

“Not really, I moved here from Tempe originally to get away from… everything. Wound up in a dingy apartment I could barely pay for and working at Marco’s.” I tapped the pen against the paper after I signed my name and then handed it back.

“You talk to her much?” Max said, looking away and somehow that made it easier to open up a little.

I shrugged, “Not if I can help it. Sometimes she just texts, other times she just turns up like everything is normal, likewe’renormal.” I sighed and rubbed my temples, “She knows a lot of people who also know a lot of people, you know? Hard to stay on the down low when they’re all connected at the proverbial hip.”

“That’s rough,” he said, but it didn’t feel dismissive, more like he was commiserating. “My folks and I don’t talk much either. They thought that opening the business was a dumb idea.” Max smirked, “Of course, that was until I earned my first mil, then of course they acted like they’d practically had the idea for me to open a record label.”

I snorted, “Don’t say that in earshot of my mom, otherwise she’ll be hitting you up for money as well as me.”

He winced, “Drugs?”

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