Page 79 of Puck Daddies
Siena pauses. “I’m looping the label. Give me two minutes.”
I sip water and look at the wall of names. The tiles glow in the morning light. Tom sets out chairs, readying for the day ahead. My phone buzzes again.
“Rocco, meet Reid Donovan,” Siena says. “He runs A&R and special projects for the partner label.”
“Rocco,” Reid says, voice clean and quick. “Siena sent your clip. I like your tone. I like your head. You’re proposing a live EP in a coffee shop for a good cause. We could use that right now.”
“How come?”
Reid doesn’t dance around it. “One of our artists was named in a harassment suit. We settled. The headlines stuck on the label as much as the artist. It’s a bad look for us—people think we bailed them out. We didn’t—the victims deserved a payout.”
“That’s a generous way of looking at it?—”
“Not generosity. It was the right thing to do. Point is, I’m not asking you to carry our water. I’m saying that a project that’s transparent, local, and community-minded helps. If the audio holds, I’m in.”
“It will hold. It held the night of the video. It’ll hold when we do this too.”
“The budget will be tight but doable. We’ll hire a mobile crew. Room and spot mics. We’ll need quiet HVAC, a power plan, and a stage plot. Dates?”
“We have a two-week TRO that gives us a few more days of breathing room,” I explain. “If we keep it inside that window, the story lands right. I can be ready Friday or Saturday night.”
Siena jumps in. “I can get my pianist free on Friday. Coach and prep Tuesday, touch-up Thursday, record Friday.”
“Friday, then.” Reid runs through the logistics. “Doors at six, downbeat at seven thirty, done by ten.”
I picture it full. “Works.” Since controversy is a concern for them, I don’t want to hide this. “One more thing. I’m being transparent as well, since we’re being open about potential problems. I’m in a polyamorous relationship with three people I’ve known most of my life. It’s public enough that a bad outlet could try to make it a headline. If that’s a problem, you need to say so now, and we can cut ties. No harm, no foul.”
Siena is quiet for a beat. Reid, however, doesn’t hesitate. “Consenting adults?”
“Yes. All four of us consent. It’s not a stunt or cheating or anything. Everything is on the table. We’re open with each other.”
“Then it’s a nonissue. We don’t hide it. We don’t sell it. If asked, we say you keep your private life private and you support your community. Anyone who tries to make it a scandal misses the point.” He pauses. “But if rumors swirl, that’s clicks. So, if you want to hint at anything without confirming it, we can go that route too.”
Siena adds, “I like that you told us. We’re done with secrets.”
Relief loosens my shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Send me a one-sheet by the end of the day,” Reid says. “Title, concept, set list, tech needs, crew list, permit needs, union flags if any. We’ll get legal to draft location releases and a charity rider.”
“You got it.”
We hang up. I sit there with my phone on the table and let the plan lock into place. Live at Bea’s. People in chairs who know the shop. A label that sees the room as an asset. It fits.
Meg stands behind the counter, reviewing the temp log. She’s always gorgeous, but early morning light suits her best. Makes her peach skin glow against her untamed brown hair.
She catches me staring at her and half smiles. “What is it?”
“You, for the most part. Can’t take my eyes off of you.”
A nervous laugh parts her pretty lips as she blushes. “Stop.”
But I shrug. “Can’t. Just telling the truth. Oh, and I’m doing a live EP here.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Friday if the permits land. Fifty seats. All proceeds to the fight.”
Her eyes go wide. “Here?”
