We sat at our high-top table, both of us enjoying the music and the way in which the band commanded the stage. The lead singer reminded me of a male Gwen Stefani from back in the day, if such a thing existed. They were really good. A mix of old school punk and ska with catchy melodies and lyrics. It was easy to see why the place was so packed.
While Lauren was laser-locked on to Drummer Boy, my eyes wandered, and I mentally took notes on the amount of people here on a Wednesday night. I questioned if they had come to see the band or if they just liked to drink during the middle of the week. The majority of people who not only knew the lyrics, but were also actually singing along gave me my answer.
They were fans.
And they had come here to watch the band.
I felt proud and excited, and I hadn’t even met the guys yet. The realization that they already had a fan base made me smile. And it could be so much bigger if they kept their online presence up-to-date and informed people where they were playing and when, among other things.
But my first order of business was to find out if they even wanted that growth in the first place. It seemed like a question that went without saying, but it wasn’t. Not every band was trying to make it big. I needed to know what their ultimate end goal was. Was it a record deal, radio airplay, sold-out concerts, or were they content with being a big fish in a little local bar scene? In order to serve them the best way that I could, I needed to learn exactly what they wanted.
All things I would ask them once I got the chance to sit down and talk to them. Hopefully, they’d all be on the same page. That was the first challenge when it came to working with multiple people—aligning their goals, especially if it was something they had never discussed before. Putting your dreams and desires into words made them real. Almost like once you’d said them out loud, you weren’t allowed to take them back. That was a very scary concept for some people, especially artists I’d learned.
“I’m going to go get us some drinks,” I yelled toward Lauren, who nodded her head but didn’t make eye contact with me.
I’d already lost her. She was encapsulated in the wonder of live music. And to be fair, there was something about seeing a band perform live that was a step above anything you could ever hear through your speakers. Well, most of the time anyway.
I made my way toward the bartender, wiggling and sucking in my stomach as I pushed through the crowd. When the bartender finally noticed me—or should I say, when he noticed the top of my head—I shouted my order and pushed all the way in, my chest firmly pressed against the dark wood that currently smelled like spilled beer.
“This is a nice surprise,” a guy to my left said.
I racked my brain, wondering how and if I knew him. He looked familiar.
“I’m not sure we’ve ever formally met. I’m Logan LeDeoux.” He wiped his hand on his shorts before holding it out toward me.
Logan LeDeoux … Logan LeDeoux …
Recognition dawned on me. Baseball player. I should have known or at least put it together, but then again, why would I have? There was more to my life than just the Fullton State baseball team.
“Christina,” I said with an unsure smile, not knowing what he wanted or what was about to come out of his mouth. Anything having to do with Cole always made me a little uneasy.
“Nice to meet you.” He gripped my hand and gave it a firm shake right as the band announced they were taking a twenty-minute break.
“You too. I actually have to go.” I broke our contact and thumbed toward the band, who were putting down their instruments.
“Come back. I’ll buy you another beer,” he said as I made my way toward Lauren without answering him.
Lauren was smiling at Drummer Boy as he walked toward our table. It was cute, seeing her so enamored. And he seemed to feel the same way. At least if I was reading his expression right anyway.
The four band members surrounded our table as I handed Lauren her drink, and a waitress appeared, giving the guys each a beer and water. Where was she when we needed drinks?
“You guys are really good.”
“Thank you,” Jason, the drummer, said.
“This is my roommate, Christina. The one I told you about.” Lauren started the introductions, and I paid attention even though I already knew their names and what they played from my research earlier, “And this is Jason, the drummer. Aaron, the bassist. Frazier, on guitar, and Charley, the lead singer.”
Drummer Boy wiped the sweat off his head with a towel before dropping it to the ground. “It’s nice to meet the social media guru.”
A loud laugh came out of me without warning. “I’m not sure I’d go that far,” I started to say, “but okay.”
The group laughed along while they all stared at me, so I decided to get right into it. We only had twenty minutes anyway, and it wasn’t enough time.
“So, I took a look at all your sites today, and you guys have a lot that needs to be done,” I started my pitch.
Charley interrupted, “We can’t pay you.”
“I mean, we barely get paid to play,” Frazier added.
“I know,” I said, hoping to calm them down.
I felt their fear, their apprehension. They were struggling artists who knew that nothing was free or cheap in this industry. It was one thing to hope for a break, a helping hand, or someone to throw them a bone, but that rarely happened. And the majority of people who offered it usually had a hidden agenda.
“I didn’t come here, hoping to get the big bucks.”
“That’s good. ’Cause we got no bucks,” Aaron said.
“What did you come here hoping for then?” the lead singer asked with a wink.
Is he flirting?
He leaned his body closer to mine.
Yeah, he was definitely flirting, but I shook him off and focused on the business at hand.
“I came here, hoping you guys would hire me. And I’ll work for free for the next three months until I graduate. I’ll take pictures and video tonight to add to your pages, I’ll update all your sites, and I’ll build you guys a solid foundation that you can use, going forward. We also need to have one big meeting where we sit down and talk about each individual social media channel and your goals. I have a lot of things I want to ask you, but I need way more than twenty minutes.”
I could tell that I was starting to lose them, overwhelm them. Social media was like a giant Oak tree that had a few large branches but what felt like a million smaller ones sprouting off in all directions. It was easy to get lost on a tiny branch and never get back to anything else.
“Okay, let’s start small,” I started, and I swear they all breathed out in relief in unison. “Which one of you has your login for Instagram? I want to log in to your account and go live when you guys start playing again.”
Frazier raised his hand and then scooted next to me, giving me the password and login information, and I entered it into my phone. The Long Ones was added to my list of Instagram handles and logins. I planned on updating their site with some clips from tonight, and then I’d schedule a meeting with them ASAP to discuss the rest.
“Are you guys all good with this?” I asked before I started taking over because I knew that I could move a million miles a minute.
They all said, “Yes,” and, “Thank you,” as they downed their water before finishing off their beers as well.