Page 12 of His Sound
She starts tapping on the tablet in her hand before holding it up for us to crowd around. She swipes through some pictures of tour posters and designs for t-shirts before asking us what we think.
“Uh...” Matt begins before trailing off.
Shayla sighs. “I know. Trust me, I know.”
The designs look like something I could have made, and while I am a man of many talents, making t-shirts isn’t one of them.
“Are those...bubble letters?”Ace asks
“These would be great,” adds Matt, “if we were the Bay City Rollers. Shayla, we can’t use these.”
“I know,” she agrees. “That’s why I wanted to show them to you. We don’t have the capital to outsource any more graphic design work, and I definitely can’t afford to put someone else on the payroll right now. Everyone has been pitching in where they can, but clearly music people are not necessarilyartpeople. This is the best anyone has got.”
“Hire someone,” Matt says firmly. “Put it on our bill.”
Shayla has refused to go into any debt building this business. She saved for years just to get it started, and she won’t take out any loans. The label could handle smaller bands no problem, but Sherbrooke Station is getting bigger by the minute, and we’ve had to put most of our money into covering our own asses—much more money than labels usually take.
“Are you sure?” Shayla asks. “It would only be for a little while. I just need some college student who’s good with Photoshop to pump out a few designs, but you guys are already getting billed for so much...”
“Go for it, Shayla,” Matt urges. “This place is calledMetro Records. You practically named it after us. We’re just making sure you make us look good.”
He smiles to show he’s joking, but I shake my head. “I don’t know about you, but Ialwayslook good.”
Matt takes the tablet from Shayla’s hand and holds the photo of the t-shirt up in front of my chest.
“Trust me,” he announces, “no one’s going to look good in these.”
Shayla claims her tablet back. “Agreed. So it’s settled: I’ll hire someone ASAP and keep Mona up to date. How are things going with her, by the way?”
Mona is the manager Shayla hooked us up with when she moved on to running Metro Records. Whereas Shayla always looks like some kind of punk rock princess with green-tipped hair and a septum piercing, Mona is quite possibly part of the Italian mob. She never wears anything besides black suits and fancy jewellery. I’m even more scared of her than I am of Shayla, but she knows how to get shit done. Somehow, her and Shayla are best buddies. I think it’s because they both totally would have been cutthroat lady pirates if they were born a few hundred years earlier.
I’m not going to say I have sexual fantasies about that, but I’m not going to deny it either.
“Mona’s impressive,” Matt answers. “She’s sorry she couldn’t be here today. She hates letting us run around without supervision.”
Shayla nods. “Oh, I sympathize. I sympathize so much. Just look; I took my eyes off JP for two seconds, and he’s already destroying my office.”
Everyone turns to where I’m trying to do chin ups on the framework for the wall.
“The gains, man,” I protest. “I gotta get the sick gains.”
The wood creaks under my hands. Shayla herds us out of the building soon after that.
“You guys are coming to the party tonight, right?” Ace asks us, once we’re back out on the sidewalk. “We’re pre-ing at Stéphanie’s place. Well, the people who are pre-ing are pre-ing. Her friend wants to go see some band after, and they don’t seem half bad.”
Stéphanie’s friend is having a birthday party tonight, and of course, this friend asked Stéphanie to invite her boyfriend’s famous band. Cole and Matt don’t seem too stoked about it, but I for one am always up for some cake.
And by cake, I mean Stéphanie’s hot dancer friends.
“Count me in,mon gars,” I tell Ace.
* * *
I tiemy hair up in its knot and tuck my wallet into my pocket before making my way to my apartment door, humming Flo Rida’s ‘Cake’ to myself as I go. I’ve got a feeling this is going to be a good night. I’m just about to head out into the hallway when my phone starts beeping at me.
I check the screen, where my ‘Take pills’ reminder is flashing.
Merde, I almost forgot.
