Page 101 of Fire
While Zara gets ready in the hotel suite, I dash downstairs where we’ve agreed to meet and go through all the required paperwork to sign with the Creed Agency. I’m also meeting with my new agent, Saul.
It’s been twenty-four hours since I gave my brother the thumbs up to move ahead, and had I not been holed up with a sick girlfriend yesterday, this probably would have already taken place.
Like I said, the man moves fast.
It makes me wonder how much further along my career would be if I had just given in and signed with him like Zander did. But then again, I wouldn’t be here with Zara, which makes me think I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
Look at me being all sentimental and shit.
We meet in one of the hotel’s available conference rooms, and it takes me just five minutes to sign my name where mydad’s new assistant has marked. I don’t bother to look it over. I’ve seen this boilerplate Creed Agency contract more times than I can count.
Besides, this is my dad, the man who used to sneak me cookies after bedtime and gave me an allowance each week for doing literally nothing.
He’s no villain.
“Now that we have that out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff,” Saul says, grabbing a folder from his briefcase. Do people actually carry briefcases anymore? Saul is about the same age as my father, but half as cool. He reminds me a bit of Stan Lee, but instead of sunglasses and superhero comics, you get tweed blazers and legal jargon.
“What’s the good stuff?” I ask hesitantly.
He opens the folder, and my eyes widen. “Are those?—”
“Offers? Yup.” He confirms. “And good ones too.”
“Barely a month on tour,” my dad says, looking at me with a gleam in his eye. “You should be proud of yourself.”
I blow out a breath, feeling a little taken aback. “Do they want me or just the media attention I’ll bring with me?”
Saul shrugs. “A little bit of both, I’ll wager. And I think there are some we can easily weed out because of that. But there are legitimate offers in here, Hendrix. Bands who want you. Not your name or your…” He waves a hand in my direction.
“My abs?” I roll my eyes.
“Media attention comes and goes. Ask Zander, Asher, or anyone else who has been in the spotlight. So ignore all that.” He shoves the folder in my direction, and I stare down at the first name on the stack. It’s a band I know well. One I would have been thrilled to work with six months ago. Hell, six weeks ago.
Now, all I feel is a hollow sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, especially when I look at their tour schedule: a four-month US tour and a three-month international tour, startingin October. Manic finishes up in September, which means I’d be leaving almost as soon as I got home.
Another seven months on the road.
Would Zara want to come with me? Can I ask her to?
Elena travels with Zander, but it’s not quite the same. Her career is portable. She can write anywhere. I can’t just assume that any band I’m signed with will need a full-time doctor or that Zara will even want that as a long-term career.
Fuck.
I swallow hard and glance up at Saul and my dad. Saul speaks first. “Take some time and look them over, and when you’re ready, give us a call.”
“Okay.”
As soon as I say goodbye and leave that room, my heart begins to race, and it feels like there isn’t enough oxygen in my lungs.
I take out my phone and call Zara.
“Hey.” Her voice is warm and sweet. My pulse starts to slow.
“Hey,” I reply. “How soon do you think you could be ready?”
“Five minutes? Why? I thought we weren’t due to leave until noon.”
I lick my lips as my eyes dart toward the exit. “There’s somewhere I want to take you first. You up for it?”
