Page 15 of Follow the Rhythm
‘I’m begging you, Jess. Have mercy,’ Charlie had texted right before the show started.
‘Fine. Come by on Monday night,’I sent back. I needed to make him wait a few days.
“But you had fun? Grace liked you; she’s already begging to hang out later this week,” Austin said.
“I did! Thank you again. Sorry I was a little weird. And your sister is great. Kind of a lot, but great.”
Austin smiled. “It was cool to see you so happy.”
“Oh, gross, no sappy stuff,” I groaned and looked out the window at the city flashing past. Ellis Fox didn’t matter. I absolutely shouldnothave been thinking about his gorgeous blue eyes looking right through me.
Chapter 4 - Charlie
Echelon Records in Fairview looked more like the lair of a comic book supervillain than a record label office. The building was black steel and glass, a pyramid shape that narrowed as it rose, capped by a spire.
It was an offering to the gods of capitalism, and considering the money that flowed in and out of here, some of which was flowing directly intomypocket now, it was doing a great job.
Johnny Fairchild, who’d hired me, was waiting for me in the lobby. We’d only talked on Zoom before, but I recognized him immediately. He was a short, older Beta with thinning ginger hair liberally streaked with gray and an accent like the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins. Johnny was a legend in the business and almost certainly knew my father.
“Charlie, my son, right on time,” he boomed. “Thanks for coming early, mate.”
“Of course, it’s great to meet you in person,” I replied, shaking his hand. His scent was malty and slightly bitter, like a warm beer. He led me to a collection of couches and chairs that looked so deliberately uncomfortable I was sure we weren’t supposed to sit on them.
“I apologize for the skullduggery, but I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the suits,” he said.
“What’s up?” I asked. He’d piqued my curiosity. What could be so secret that he didn’t even want to say it over a Zoom call?
Johnny gave a long-suffering sigh. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, then. These boys I’m managing are barely getting on. It was hell getting Kieran to agree to this tour when they’ve either been at each other’s throats or not speaking.”
“Right,” I said after a long pause.
“I need your help, Charlie. I figure you know a thing or two about keeping rock stars from bashing each other’s heads in, eh?”
Ah, so he did know my dad.
“Sure, man, whatever you need.” I managed not to sound exasperated.
“Good, good. Knew I could count on ya. But that’s not it. The cunts at the label are trying to interfere, too. They pushed this drummer on us, some dykey girl. Granted, she sounds alright, but she ain’t Michael.”
“Hey, man, don’t say that,” I said, tapping his shoulder with the back of my hand.
“Ah, you yanks, so politically correct. Was it ‘cunts’ or ‘dykey’ that got your hackles up?”
“Both,” I laughed. It wasn’t funny, but I knew the best way to deal with old-school guys like him was to keep it light.
“Alright, alright. I’ll watch my tongue. Ah, here he is,” Johnny said, standing.
I recognized Kieran Walsh walking across the lobby towards us. He was tall, broad, and scowling. All in all, pretty intimidating. But he returned my smile with a nod and shook my hand without hesitation.
“This is Charlie Bennett, the poor sod that’s going to try and keep this tour on track,” Johnny said by way of introduction.
Kieran almost smiled. “Sorry about that, mate, sounds terrible.”
“It’ll be great.” And even if it wasn’t, it would at least be better than my father’s farewell tour. It had to be. My career couldn’t survive another implosion like that.
We waited a few more minutes for Ellis, but he didn’t show before we needed to head upstairs for the meeting with the label.
“Typical,” Kieran said softly, and with a surprising amount of contempt, before we boarded the elevator.
