Page 115 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

“What do you want to do today? Beyond a trip to IKEA for desks,” he asked Izabel.

She was dressed in one of his hoodies and a pair of Birkenstocks. Utterly irresistible. “What I want to do is spend it on the sofa with you, watching movies while we snuggle under a blanket.”

“Done. I’m sold.”

Izabel sighed. “What Ineedto do is follow up on a million and one things for the concert.”

“How much did it raise in the end?”

“That’s one of the things we need to finalise, but it’s somewhere in the region of four hundred thousand pounds. Got some big donations at the event. More than enough to help the shelter relocate.”

Matt’s phone rang and he looked down at it, hoping it was Jase. Disappointment flickered through him when he saw their manager’s name.

“Hey, Simon. What’s up?”

“Matt, are you sitting down?”

Matt laughed. “Yeah. Just eating breakfast.”

“Upper Street Records want to meet.”

Matt coughed, choking on his mouthful of cereal. “Don’t mess with me, Simon. It’s been quite the fucking week already.”

“Yeah. Saw the footage online this morning, which—we should talk about anger management classes for you lot at some point. Or at least make a gentleman’s agreement that your fights will be done behind closed doors and away from mobile phones. But you’re going to have to patch it the fuck up. Parker Moseley is a stellar A&R guy. His artists and repertoire have changed music trends more times than you and Jase have brawled. He wants to meet. He sees the potential. He knows you’re a train wreck. He’s also heard footage of the band, with Jase singing and with you singing. He’ll take either setup. You guys just need to decide.”

Matt dragged his hand over his face, through his hair. Could they really sign a record deal that excluded Jase? The immediate no in his gut was backed up by his brain. “We can’t leave Jase behind.”

“Then you need to get him on board and fast. If Moseley takes you on, there will be rules. Consequences. Rule one is you’ll hit the studio with a producer of his choosing who has his own recording studio in Detroit, Michigan—where it will be colder than a polar bear’s asshole in February—but they want you contained.”

Matt reeled, every third heartbeat felt like his chest would explode. “They want us to record in February?” His head did the math. Nine weeks from now.

Simon laughed. “Yeah. It’s fucking insane. But they really want to strike while the iron is hot. Parker is going to be in London next week. Wants to meet on Wednesday at Upper Street Records HQ in the UK. He’s heard the music, mate. This will be about vision. Where do you see yourself going? Where does he think you should go? Can you align? Will you work well together?”

He looked at Izabel who had one hand over her mouth and was rubbing reassuring circles on his back with the other. “Holy fuck. Yeah. We’ll be there. Just send us the details.”

“Of course. Big leagues, mate. Big leagues. You need to get Jase there too.”

Shit.

Of course. And he wasn’t answering their calls. “I’ll figure it out. ‘Thank you’ seems totally inadequate.”

“It’s my job, but it’s also my greatest pleasure. You deserve the success that’s waiting for you, Matt. I’ll be in touch.”

Matt placed his phone on the kitchen counter.

“So?” Izabel asked excitedly.

“One of the biggest record labels wants to meet us.”

“Holy shit, Matt. It’s finally happening for you.”

19

Drizzles of rain trickled down the tram window as Izabel ran her fingers over the new notebook she’d picked up from the bookstore during her lunch hour.

New notebooks meant new beginnings.

It was simple. A deep red. Dot grid. Paper that could hold ink.

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