Conquest (5 page)

A smile rose to Evan’s lips. “To see a band. They’re called Conquest. As a whole they’re a little rough, but the guitarist is slick as hell, and the singer, he’s got a voice that will knock you on your ass. His name is Jesse Alexander, the guitarist is Kenny Cooper. I don’t know much about the drummer and keyboardist, they’re not worth my time, but you’ve got to see Jesse perform.”

Greg stared at Evan. He took a breath to pull himself out of his shock. “If he’s getting an endorsement like that from you, he must be good.”

“He’s amazing.” Evan stood and walked to Greg. “I’m going to head home so I can take a nap and be fresh for tonight.” Reaching around Greg, he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper off the desk. “Here’s my cell and house number. I’ll leave making dinner reservations up to you, just call and let me know when and where. Conquest takes the stage at ten and they’re playing at a little joint down south of The Loop. I’d like to be there when they start.”

“Okay. I’ll call you later then.”
Evan turned for the door.
“Evan,” Greg called. “Welcome back.”
Evan nodded his head once and disappeared out the door.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Evan stood outside the bar, his arms folded across his chest, the fingers of his right hand tapping an annoyed beat on his left bicep. “That’s it. I’m going in.”

Greg glanced down at his wristwatch. “He’s only five minutes late.”
“Five minutes means we’ve already missed one song. I’m not going to miss the whole set because you decided to invite your assistant who clearly isn’t competent enough to show up on time.”
Greg sighed. “With the cutbacks Phoenix has had to do, we couldn’t be picky about who was willing to stay on the smaller salaries. All the A&R reps took off, so I need to get Tim some experience dealing with bands in the field.”
“That’s fine, but don’t do it with this band.” Evan whirled around and reached for the door.

“Here he is,” Greg said, waving to a heavyset man coming toward them.

Evan tipped up the rim of his Yankees cap to get a better look at Greg’s assistant. Tim walked with all the speed his stubby legs could carry him, the pudginess hanging over his belt jiggled with his rapid strides, his small dark eyes darted nervously about.

Tim drew to a short stop in front of them, puffing for breath. “Sorry I’m late. When I found myself in this neighborhood, I thought I made a wrong turn, then I checked the directions and realized I was in the right place.”

“It takes a while to learn a new city.” Greg placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Tim, I’d like to introduce you to Evan Arden. Evan, this is Tim Polanski.”

Tim shoved his hand toward Evan. “When Greg said we were meeting with you tonight, I almost didn’t believe it, but here you are. I’ve been a fan of yours since your first album. I’ve seen you in concert five times, too.”

“Wow, that’s impressive. Thanks for supporting my fetishes of fast cars and gourmet chocolate with your hard earned money.” Evan shook Tim’s hand, immediately regretting the action when he felt Tim’s palm sticky with sweat. He grimaced as he drew his hand back and wiped it on his jeans, then regretted doing that since they were his favorite pair of Dolce & Gabbana.

“There’s that wonderful sense of humor you’ve got,” Greg chided.

 

“Yeah, so can we go in now?” Evan gave Greg a sharp look that told him his patience was about to break.

Greg nodded and followed Evan to the door with Tim trailing behind.
Tim hesitated outside the door, looking up at the bar. Neon signs touting the bar was open and advertising different beers flickered behind the rusted steel bars covering a large picture window, adding the only glitter to the flat, plain front.

“This place is a dump,” Tim said. “What band worth anything would be caught playing here?”

Evan tugged his cap lower over his eyes to hide his irritation. “These guys have only been on the scene for a little more than a year and they’ve been playing anywhere and everywhere they can to get exposure. That’s what highly motivated musicians do, and their talent should be judged based on their music, not the atmosphere they play in.”

Tim shrugged. “If you say so.”

They stepped inside to find a woman standing with a money pouch around her waist and a bouncer at her side. The sound of fast offbeat drums and a keyboard not in synch with the drums or the guitar reverberated off the walls.

“Sounds great already,” Tim said, his sarcasm thick. “You may be a musical genius when it comes to your own material, Mr. Arden, but I’m not sure I agree with your taste in music for listening.”

Evan balled one hand in a fist and took in a slow, deep breath, holding it to keep himself from exploding.
Jesse’s tenor blasted over the instruments,

“
This euphoria,
Makes me crazy.
I don’t need you in my bed, Just need you next to me…”

The sound of Jesse’s voice drove Evan’s anger into nothingness. He closed his eyes in a long blink and exhaled his held breath in a soft sigh.

Greg’s head snapped up, cocked in the direction of the music. He ripped some cash free from his money clip to pay the cover charge for all of them, and they headed in. Up on a small stage, Jesse leaned over the edge holding the mic in his right hand, reaching out to the people with his left. The crowd focused on his every move, shoving to get closer to the stage.

Jesse snapped to an upright position, raising his voice higher for the next verse of his pop/rock song, “Euphoria,”

“
I won’t let you walk away, I won’t let you leave.
You finally came back to me, I’ll be everything you need. Just tell me all that I did wrong, I can change it all I swear. There’s nothing I won’t do, Nothing I can’t be…”

“Whoa,” Greg said.

Tim turned to him. “That kid can sing. Look at the way he’s got the crowd. They’re about to riot just to get closer to him. I can’t remember the last time I saw someone sing like that.”

Greg aimed a pointed look at Evan. “I can.”
Evan’s gaze remained on Jesse.

Greg put his hand on Evan’s back. “No one’s sitting at the tables. Let’s grab a seat and study him for a while.”

They moved over to a few tables that had been pushed toward the back of the bar and sat down. A waitress walked up to take their drink orders. When she left, Tim turned to Greg. “This place is too small for his voice. Just imagine what he’d sound like in the studio or a real concert hall.”

“I was already thinking that,” Greg said.

The waitress returned and deposited their drinks. Evan took his bottle of Guinness and lifted it to his lips, his eyes never leaving the stage.

A tendril of concern snaked its way into Greg’s chest as he watched him stare at Jesse. “You said you haven’t met him or any of the band members yet, is that right, Evan?”

Evan nodded.

 

Tim leaned across the table and slapped Evan on the arm. “So Greg told me you just bought a house. I bet it’s some amazing place with what you can afford.”

Evan slowly turned his head, locking his eyes on Tim in a silent stare.
Tim shifted back in his chair as if the cold look in Evan’s eyes had physically pushed him. “It’s, uh, great that you’re back. The charts haven’t been the same without you. When do you plan on hitting the studio?”

“I didn’t come back to record.” Evan turned back to the stage. “And the charts are fine. It’s Phoenix that looks to be in trouble.”

His voice on edge, Tim said, “Where’d you hear that?” Evan whipped his head around. “Just because I’ve been out country hopping for the past few years doesn’t mean I’m fucking clueless.”

Greg leaped to intercept Evan’s rising anger. “I’m not going to lie, it’s been rough. A few months after you left, George decided to sell the label, and it went downhill fast. The investment group who bought it brought in all new staff, and just like that, businessmen instead of people who love music were running Phoenix. They were out for the quick buck, and had all the A&R reps searching for the next great one hit wonders. The goal was to pump out fast albums, then let the bands go and bring in the next round. Quantity over quality. Going against everything Phoenix always stood for.

“It didn’t take long before the pile of bills was higher than the checks. The label went up for sale again, and George bought it back. Part of the reason he sold it in the first place was he wanted to be closer to and spend more time with his daughter and grandkids who live here, but seeing all he had worked for on the edge of destruction hurt too much, so he decided why not bring the label here also, but it hasn’t been easy. We still have our name, and most people remember our reputation from when we were contenders, but that’s about the best thing we got going right now. That, and of course, still having you. The sales from your albums are about the only thing keeping us going. The damn things keep selling after all this time. It’s amazing.”

Evan didn’t bother looking at Greg, knowing he was trying to justify again why he had re-released his album without his permission. Not willing to let business darken his mood, he kept his eyes on Jesse and watched the sensual way he drew his fingers down his chest as he sang, how he smoothly rolled his hips in time with the beat.

Evan’s rapt expression caused worry to fire in Greg’s chest again. “Evan, I’m already forming an opinion of this Jesse, but you’re the one who brought me here to see him, so I’d like to hear your full view on him and the band.”

Evan forced his attention away from Jesse and looked at Greg. “Well, this is my fourth time seeing him, and I can tell you, he puts everything he’s got into every performance. And that voice, he can really belt it out. The guitarist is pretty awesome the way he always manages to pull such clear, sharp sounds out of his instrument even in a place where the acoustics are bad, like here. I’ve seen him play a Les Paul, but the Strat seems to be his weapon of choice. And Jesse,” he tipped his beer toward Jesse, “knows how to work a crowd.”

Greg nodded. “He seems like he’s got the heart for it.”

“He’d have a hell of a good sound with some real musicians,” Evan continued. “The only thing holding the music together now is the fast electronic backline from the synth he puts in some of his songs, the guitar, and his voice. I like what he’s trying to do with the sound. He’s leaning toward the rock side, it’s got a nice bold edge, but it’s lightened with a little pop vibe, and its real upbeat. And he’s got this ballad called ‘Shattered’ that has some clear classical influence, so I’m thinking he’s been classically trained.”

“And just look at him,” Tim broke in. “The hair, the clothes, he’s got a nice look that’s fresh without being too edgy.”

They all looked at the stage. Jesse wore a pair of faded jeans and a tight black shirt with a slight sheen and red flames rising from the bottom. His silver hoop earrings flashed as he turned his head, sweat dripped from the sharp angles of his black hair.

“He’s a real good looking kid, too,” Tim said. “He’s a little on the pretty side, but either way, every teenage girl will want his poster hanging above her bed.”

Evan slammed his beer down. “Are you kidding me? That’s not what you would do with him, is it? Turn him into bubblegum and lollipops?”

Tim shrugged. “It sells.”

“Hey now,” Greg cut in. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re not going to market anyone if we don’t talk to them first.”

“I just hope he doesn’t play on the other side of the fence, if you know what I mean,” Tim said.

“No, I don’t,” Evan growled through clenched teeth. “Explain it to me.”
Tim leaned back in his chair, gazing up at Jesse with a scrutinizing eye. “Phoenix has enough problems as it is. That’s all we’d need is to throw our support behind him, only to have him get busted, ass in the air, and—”

“That’s enough!” Greg said. “We’re all talking too much and not listening enough. None of that makes any difference. Look at him. He practically drips sex appeal. Watch the way he dances and moves his body. He almost reminds me of you, Evan, except you had a more elegant sexual charisma on stage, kind of like, I’ll wine you, dine you, then screw your brains out. This kid is more like, I’m not taking you anywhere, shut up and get naked.”

Evan chuckled under his breath. “I guess that’s one way to describe it. You’re such a closet pervert.”

 

“No more talking!” Greg demanded.

The three men sat back as Conquest finished their set and headed off the stage at midnight. Evan, Greg, and Tim found the manager of the bar, and after a few brief words, he let them into the back, directing them to the break room. As the three men approached the door, they paused at the sound of Jesse’s roaring voice coming from the other side.

“What the hell was going on out there, Mike? You had to be jerking off because you sure as shit weren’t playing the drums!”

Mike dropped down on a dilapidated couch. “It’s not my fault! That electronic backbeat had me all messed up! It’s too fast! Nobody could keep up with that!”

Jesse stepped up to him. “You’re not supposed to keep up with it! That’s why it’s the backbeat, to add some extra kick to the song! You’re supposed to play the rhythms I’ve been trying to teach you!” He snatched Mike’s drumsticks off the couch and pointed them down at him. “I should shove these things up your ass since that’s where it sounds like you’re playing from!”

Mike shoved off the couch and stormed toward the door. “I’m done taking this shit from you, Jesse! You think you’re so goddamn perfect with your music, then play it all yourself! I’m outta here!”

Jesse flipped his hand at Mike as if flicking him away. “Good! Get out! I don’t need your piss poor drumming in my band!”

As Mike stomped past the three in the hall, Tim whispered, “Guess we don’t have

 

to worry about attachments to the drummer.”

 

Greg took a deep breath. Evan leaned against the wall, struggling not to laugh.

 

“Jesse, you really need to chill-out, man,” Ben said, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Ben, I wouldn’t…” Kenny started.

“Oh, don’t get me going on your ass,” Jesse said, turning on the keyboardist. “You don’t
even
want to know how pissed I am at you.”

Ben looked up at him with an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, okay? But I was nervous. It was really packed out there and people were pushing and screaming. This place is way too small for people to be acting like that.”