I leave a message for Brendan, a little annoyed he doesn’t answer. But the guy’s busy. And it’s not like I answered on the first ring every time he called while I was working for Jonathan. Or at all since I married Alexis. He’ll call back. Eventually.
Alexis is gone, meeting with Delores about next steps. When she announced the appointment, I had to bite my tongue, because I thought I was working on the next steps. But Delores is Alexis’s agent, and it’s possible Alexis sees going indie as a backup plan in case the label never changes their maybe to a yes. If I had an agent, I doubt I’d be so quick to jump ship and give up my last chance of having a standard contract with a label that has nationwide store and radio distribution deals.
Yeah, you get to keep a larger portion of your royalties as an indie, but you have to work a lot harder to grow your fan base too. There’s no done-for-you promotion. And while I have contacts with bookers and promoters, as I’m discovering, they’re hesitant to take a risk on an indie, even one with an existing and growing fan base.
But for me, that’s all the more incentive to work hard. And I’m too chicken to ask Alexis to elaborate her point of view for me. Because there’s the very real possibility that this is all just a stepping stone to her. That I’m just a stepping stone to her. That’s what this was intended to be, after all. That’s how this all started. And the fact that I’m pivoting to a new opportunity rather than waiting around for the music gods to drop something in my lap twice in a lifetime doesn’t mean she’s actually ready to do the same.
Sure, yeah, she’s recording videos with me and for me, and she’s happy to have me post them on her pages. But that, again, is just business.
The fact that my emotions are now tangled up in all of our business doesn’t mean hers are too.
So she’s off meeting with her agent, and I’m home continuing to work on our indie career and waiting for someone to call me and tell me they believe in us.
Closing my laptop, I stand and rub my eyes, making my way to the shower for something to do while I wait. Constantly refreshing social media hoping for a new comment somewhere isn’t a helpful distraction.
When I get out of the shower, I check my phone to discover an email from one of the bookers I’m negotiating with and a voicemail from my brother.
Cursing myself, I call Brendan back without listening to the voicemail. To my surprise, he picks up on the third ring. “Hey! It’s about time you called. How’s married life treating you? Quite the stir you’ve caused.”
Cinching my towel around my waist, I force out a weak laugh. “Yeah, I guess. It was a surprise. But things are good.”
“Surprise,” he says slowly. “That’s one way of putting it.”
I scoff. “You’re one to talk. You got married in Vegas on the spur of the moment.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “That’s true. And while I’ve never regretted it for a minute, it would’ve been easier if we’d planned it ahead of time just a little. Especially with the parents. Speaking of parents …”
I try and fail to stifle a groan. I know where this is going.
Brendan laughs. “You know, I shouldn’t be so gleeful to see you ignoring Mom like this, but after the way you tried to convince Jonathan and then me that we were overreacting, it’s kinda funny seeing you in the same exact position. And from what I heard, you didn’t even give Mom a chance to be awful to her new daughter-in-law. You just dropped the bomb and went no contact.” He clucks his tongue. “You’ve got some balls, little brother. I’ll give you that much.”
“Thanks,” I say wryly. “I appreciate both the schadenfreude and the recognition of the size of my balls.”
Brendan cackles. “Seriously, though. It’s been over a month, and you’re just now finally returning my calls. How long before you talk to her? Or at least Dad?”
I run a hand through my wet hair. “I dunno, Bren. It’s not like any of this was planned.” Or at least, not in advance. Sure, technically the wedding wasn’t quite as spur of the moment as I’m making it sound. But I definitely didn’t plan for the family fallout. So I have no idea how long it’ll take me to decide to include my mother again.
For now, we’re busy, and I don’t want to give her the opportunity to fuck anything up. And she’ll try, especially if she thinks that Alexis is somehow steering me wrong. And if I tell her I’m going indie, she’ll definitely decide that’s Alexis’s fault and immediately dial up the overprotective stage-mom routine. No one needs that, Alexis least of all.
“Alright. Well, just so you know, she’s been calling Jonathan and me hoping for information. Of course we haven’t heard a peep out of you either, so we haven’t been able to tell her anything she doesn’t already know.”
I let out a sardonic chuckle. “Nice to know our places have been entirely reversed.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the way it goes I guess.” I can just imagine his philosophic shrug to go with the resigned tone of his voice.
“I guess so.”
“So,” his tone shifts, turning brusque and businesslike, “I’m guessing you didn’t call to hear about Mom harassing us or for tips on how to get her to come around to your surprise marriage—though, seriously, if you need to talk, I’m here. But from your message, you’re hoping for help with producing another album?” Despite his politeness, there’s an undertone of something closer to irritation.
Ignoring it, I press on. If he’s willing to help me, even if he’s not excited about it, I’m not going to turn him away over some misplaced idea of wounded pride. One thing I learned working for Jonathan is that opportunities, however they present themselves, have to be grabbed with both hands. And sometimes opportunities have to be made.
Suggesting Alexis and I form a mutually beneficial relationship was me grabbing an opportunity when it presented itself. Me badgering Brendan into producing another album for me, is me creating an opportunity.
“Did you see any of the videos of Alexis and me performing at The Sapphire?”
“Maaaaaybe,” Brendan hedges.
Rolling my eyes at his deliberate obtuseness, I push on. “That means yes. What’d you think?”
He hums thoughtfully, and I hear some clicking in the background, then the unmistakable sound of Alexis’s voice layered over a cheering crowd. I recognize those words. That was her introduction to our encore.
“You guys definitely have something,” he says after listening through the first verse and chorus, the tinny sound bringing back the feeling of singing on stage with her. The elation, the rush of us sharing a microphone and singing those words to each other, plus everything that happened after we got home that night. And I’m immediately and inconveniently hard while on the phone with my brother.
Awkward.
At least he can’t see me.
“This is what you want me to produce?” he asks.
“Yeah.” My voice scrapes over my vocal chords, and I clear my throat of the emotion lodged there. “Yeah,” I repeat, my voice deeper, clearer. “She hasn’t been able to land a contract as a solo artist since her band broke up. We’re taking a stab at an indie career.” At least until something better comes along. For her. But I don’t say that part out loud. “I know this isn’t what you usually do, and I also know you’re crazy busy, so if the answer is no, I understand. But I figured it was worth asking, and if you don’t have room in your schedule, then maybe you could point me to a few people who might have the time and interest in working with me.”