Page 20 of Your Rhythm
I know you mentioned you’re looking to release the article in tandem with their June show at Metropolis, but I think it would be great if you could tag along to some of the smaller shows they’re playing in the next few weeks, maybe get to know the guys a bit better, do some interviews, etc.
Let me know what you think.
Sincerely,
Shayla McDougal
“Oh no.”
“What?” Pierre calls from his desk.
“Sherbrooke Station’s manager wants me to go on tour with them.”
He lets out a laugh at my expense. “That’s great news, Kay. We all know how much you love them. Now you get to spend even more time together!”
“Marie-France will never go for it,” I assure myself, ignoring Pierre as he starts humming ‘Sofia.’
With the Arts and Culture expansion in the paper, and our very limited budget, there’s no way we’ve got the money or time to send me on the road with Sherbrooke Station. I decide to go check with Marie-France to feel justified in turning the offer down.
After seeing them in person, I’m willing to admit that I get why everyone finds Sherbrooke Station so sexy, but even with the memory of Matt and I’s interview in mind, I stand by what I’ve said before: they’re way too trendy for me to take them seriously. The less time I have to spend listening to fans screaming out the lyrics of ‘Sofia,’ the better.
I knock on Marie-France’s door and give her a summary of Shayla’s email.
“I wanted to make sure it’s okay I tell her I’ll be doing all of the interviews in Montreal,” I conclude.
She closes her laptop and gives me a look that implies I’m being an idiot.
“Ce n’est pas‘okay.’ I would like you to go to as many shows as you can, and do what this Shayla says: get to know them better.”
I start firing off reasons I shouldn’t go. “I don’t have the money to travel all over Ontario and Quebec right now, and to be honest I don’t think we can spare me for that long. Pierre and I barely made it through the week—”
“The paper will pay for it,” she interrupts. “I’ll get the budget moved around. You can spend a night here and there out covering the Sherbrooke Station story, and the rest in Montreal helping Pierre. He’s an experienced writer. He’ll manage during the days you’re gone.”
She flips her laptop open again, signalling that the conversation is over. I hover at the door, trying to come up with an excuse she won’t be able to deflect.
“Kay,” Marie-France sighs, fingers clacking away at the keys, “don’t just stand there. Get Shayla to send you the band’s schedule, and I’ll have someone take a look and figure out how many shows we can send you to.”
By the end of the day, it’s decided that I’ll be going to see Sherbrooke Station play in three different cities over the next few months. It’s not a lot, but I know trying to balance the travelling with my regular work in Montreal is still going to be hell.
I’m drowning my sorrows in vodka at a bar with Pierre that night when a text pops up on my phone:
If you wanted to see me again you could have just called, but I’m flattered you put in all that effort. See you in Ottawa.
I guess ‘in vino veritas’ also applies to vodka, because reading Matt’s message has me wondering where he is right now and how he feels about me going to all the shows. I start replaying our conversation on the staircase, how his knee kept bumping into mine, the little thrill I felt when he caught me before I fell...
No. No, no, no. We are NOT going there.
I’ve been living by those two rules I made up for awhile now:
Never fuck with Atlas Records.
Never date or sleep with a source.
I just agreed to bend and possibly break number one. I sure as hell don’t plan on going back on number two.
