Page 87 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

Alex clutched a hand to his heart, his black nail polish sparkled. “Aww. Are you saying I’m special, Jase?”

Jase flicked him the bird.

Matt bit down on his tongue. “It was his suggestion we get added to the tour given our current popularity. He was impressed by our show. I chatted with Niles while on the tour, see what they think of Simon, and he was really specific about why he thinks Simon is amazing and would be a good fit for us.”

“What did he say?” Ben asked, leaning back against the live music venue’s production desk.

“He seems to think Simon’s strength is getting bands like us, bands that have already had modest success on their own, into the mainstream. It’s what Simon did for them. Plus, he has a lot of contacts. Well-connected ones with labels. Has an uncle at Upper Street and a sister-in-law at Columbia. He has this multi-pronged concept he works on for growth that really fired earnings for Stryker. Goes above and beyond, to be honest.”

Jase tapped his fingers on the table. “If people who profess to know shit say we can make it, why can’t we make it without them? They’re only going to eat at the profits. And I’m not fucking Jesus, here to feed the five thousand.”

“Playing in the small gig economy, places like this, with a simple contract is one thing,” Matt said. “Smaller venues need less set-up, less equipment. But if we want to scale up—play bigger tours, even overseas ones, working out record deals instead of being independent, those kinds of things—we need someone to navigate us.”

The door opened, and Simon and Ennis stepped inside. “Guys. I’m excited we get to discuss if this is right for you, and I’m going to get straight to it.” Simon’s London accent was as slick as his suit and hair. “You blew me away on the Stryker tour, and I think there’s a lot we could do for you to help the band grow.”

“We’re all ears,” Matt said.

Simon sat down, but it was Ennis, a man weathered by a fast life well lived, who spoke. “I think the biggest thing we can give you is time and space. You’re doing too much yourself, and you don’t have the contacts to scale. We want to do three things for you. First, we want to get you recording contracts and performance deals that will enable you to focus full-time on your music. Make enough money, and you have time to write and perform. And if we take care of the logistics, one less thing to worry about. Easy as that. Second, we want to reduce your risk exposure. I know you got a lawyer to look through the Stryker tour agreement, but he wasn’t an expert. He missed shit we would have removed. We have lawyers so you don’t need them yourselves, except for signing any agreement with us. You should obviously have your own people check it out. And third, we want to introduce you to people who can help. Your circle is too narrow right now. If you want to break America, we’re going to need to ride a bigger band’s coattails on their tour, and I know how to get you on the right radars.”

“Sounds fucking brilliant,” Ben said. “I have no problem whatsoever using experts.”

“But how much does it cost?” Jase asked.

Simon leaned forward. “We take twenty percent until your income reaches a certain threshold, then we take fifteen.”

Simon explained more detail on each point, and the longer he spoke, the more excited Matt got. There was much good Simon could do for them, his brain was exploding at the potential while he almost cried with relief at the shit he wouldn’t have to carry alone anymore. “Simon. Ennis. We’re honoured. Could we just have a chat as a band for a minute? I want to keep talking with you, but I also want to groupthink what else we need to know.”

“Sure thing, we’ll go grab another drink.”

Matt watched the door close. “What do you think?”

Luke leaned forward. “I’m buying what he’s selling. We talked about this, Matt. If we did another album on our own, it might be the last we could afford. But this ... he makes it seem possible.”

“But what about the profits? What if he takes over, starts taking twenty percent, and then we only have the same kind of deals and gigs?” Jase asked. “We’ll go broke.”

Matt saw the folded arms and scowl, but he remembered the words from his nan the week before. Jase and confidence and no reason to trust anyone. Instead of sniping back, he paused. “We’ll go broke if we don’t. When I spoke to Niles, he said Nikhedonia added a zero on their profits in the first twelve months. Two zeros by the end of the second year with them. And I still believe we’re at least as good as they are.”

“That’s the dream, right?” Alex said. “The idea we could be earning ten times what we are now from our music within twelve months is incredible. I think their connections alone are worth it. Think of the big bands they manage. I know we want to headline, but I’d take an opening act on a big tour rather than headlining pub and club gigs any day. So, I don’t have problem with it.”

“Ihave a fucking problem with it,” Jase said. “I’m skint. Until we’re all making a decent crust to keep your pie analogy going, I don’t know why we should be paying out our money to others.”

Ben spun his phone on the tabletop. “I think it’s short-term pain for long-term gain. He’ll only take a percent of future-facing earnings, right? Not what we’ve already recorded and shit, or stuff we already have lined up.”

Matt nodded. “Correct. I have a problem with not doing it, Jase. I’ve been the one doing all the management work. It’s exhausting, saps my creativity, and is as dull as fucking dishwater. I need it to end. It can end by us signing a management contract, or it can end because I run out of steam doing it all.”

“Matt’s right, Jase. And we can all argue that we could divide it up. But I’ll not be as good as Matt at talking people into letting us play, and arguably Matt isn’t as good as these guys.” Luke closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Can you imagine having that kind of cash? I could get Iz her own place, have my own space again. We could go back to Ibiza, Matt. Stay in one of them fancy hotels instead of that shithole we stayed in last time.”

Matt liked the idea of a nice hotel. One with white sheets and an uninterrupted view of the Mediterranean. But he liked the thought of Iz with her own place, more. One he could visit without having to sneak around. “Fuck me, that hotel was a dive.”

Ben grinned. “I could help Chaya pay down her loans. I’d offer to get Mum her own place away from Dad.”

Alex high-fived his brother. “I’d give you half.”

“Sure, we could all chuck in to get Nan a little place in Spain. But what do we do in the meantime while we wait for all this to come true?” Jase asked.

“We hustle,” Matt said. “We get proper financial advice from Simon about where we are, how positive the bump is from that Willow Warner thing. Ask them how to ensure we continue to capitalise on the lift. Maybe with them on board, it actually means we get more sooner. Although we need to hope for the best and plan for the worst. What good is us all having fancy cars and shit if we’re too broke to put petrol in them because this wave we’re on doesn’t last? We need these people with the kind of experience and connections nobody at this table has. Without a breakthrough, without this deal, everything happening right now is the equivalent of being a one-hit wonder. That app will fade, the chick will move on, there will be another song. Yes, some of the people who found us will remain fans, but it we don’t speed up recording, if we don’t put out another full album, if we don’t continue to raise our profile and tour, we’ll never be any bigger than this. So, if you want the money we made this month to keep coming in next month, and the month after, and the month after fucking that, we need to find a way to build on the momentum.”

“So, the mighty Matt Palmer isfinallyadmitting he doesn’t know what he’s doing?” Jase sneered.

---