The Fire Walker (2 page)

"What did those record types want before?" I asked, trying to work up to asking about the woman Frank had said was called Jessie.

"Schmoozing," she shrugged. "They want to take us out for dinner tomorrow night and do the whole club thing." She didn't sound impressed, but I knew Zoe wasn't into going to clubs. She called them meat markets and when she had a hot piece like Will Strickland, of course she didn't want to go. But, if it meant this Jessie would be there, then I was all over that shit.

"They're doing this now?"

"We're pretty much finished recording, so I guess they want to reward us."

"Like a dog doing a fucking trick," I said sullenly. This was my dream, making it big, but I found myself disliking the facade that the business types threw up in our faces. As long as we were making them a dollar, then they slapped on the fake smiles and were all for showing us a good time. All I wanted to do was stand on a stage and play.

"Dee, I know. But a record deal is a record deal. Just cos they want to sell out and make cash, doesn't mean we do."

"I know. Sometimes it just shits me to tears."

"You're too genuine," she smiled, patting me on the knee. "Good guys get eaten up."

"Good guys finish last," I scoffed, thinking about my perpetual single status. Girls liked the bad boys and I didn't have a bad bone in my body.

"Does this have something to do with earlier?" Zoe asked with an accuracy that annoyed the hell out of me.

I shook my head, but she knew me like the back of her own hand.

"You were staring at that Jessie chick like she was something to eat."

"I wasn't," I protested, suddenly flustered.

She grinned, shaking her head. "If you say so, Dee Dee."

"Shut up."

She dumped her empty takeout cup on the table. "You know what you're doing, but be careful there."

"Why?" I asked with a grimace, poking at my own untouched coffee. What had she heard?

"You're with the band. She's with the label."

I never thought about it that way. I'd just locked eyes with the woman and already I had to know her.

"Zoe?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I understand what Will was saying now."

"About what?" she asked, but I knew she was playing with me.

"
Zoe
."

"Really?" she asked, frowning. "You haven't even spoken with her."

"Will didn't speak to you until later."

She shrugged. "It worked out for us in the end, but you saw the shit we went through to get there."

"Yeah." I knew it just as well as she did. I'd been there the entire time. I'd given Will a black eye he'd never forget when he'd stuffed up.

Looking up, I realized Zoe was peering at me with a strange expression on her face. Like she was worried about me. Like she knew I was going to fail before I even began and I didn't like it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked with a scowl.

"You know you can be a little arrogant, right?"

"No way… really?" I slumped back into the couch.

"In the beginning, I wish Will had of just talked to me. You know about it. You were there. Cut out the dick and go straight to the nice guy."

"I'm not a dick."

"Of course you're not. You're my best friend. But Americans see our sense of humor differently. Instead of the loveable fool you are, you might come across like an arrogant wanker."

"Fuck, Zoe," I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Way to bring a guy down."

"You wanted my advice."

"I never asked for it."

"You didn't need to." She sat back next to me, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I can see it every time you see me with Will."

"What do you mean?"

"You've always been on your own," she said carefully.

"That's by choice." No it wasn't.

"Dee," she scolded. "It's me you're talking to."

"Sorry."

"I know you want more. I saw it in your eyes this arvo. All I'm saying is don't throw yourself in too fast."

I felt my insides knot and I groaned. "You really get me with an accuracy that pisses me off."

"That's why we're besties." She punched me in the shoulder, and then planted a kiss on my cheek. "But before you go out, I want her resume on my desk."

I sunk my head back against the couch and laughed. When we'd started the band and Will came sniffing around, I'd told her that I wanted to see the resume of every guy she wanted to go out with. Now it was like a running joke and since I was single and she was taken, it was at my expense every time. I knew she didn't mean it in a nasty way, but I couldn't help but feel a little sad.

As soon as we stopped talking and turned our attention back onto Chris in the sound booth, my thoughts went straight to this Jessie. What did her voice sound like? Where was she from? And most importantly, why had this mystery woman sparked such a reaction in me?

If I didn't find out, I might as well just quit at life. Forever the nice guy finishing last.

I'd never been to Los Angeles before.

There were wide streets, palm trees and it was flat. I mean, there was high rises and all, but nothing like Manhattan. And the traffic was badder than bad. The sky always seemed to be blue and it had this haze, like the desert had kicked up a dust storm and flung it over the city.

"Jessie?"

At the sound of my name, I sat up sharply in the back of the town car and flicked on my tablet. I sat next to Georgie, one of the executives at Galaxy Records who often went out sucking up to bands. She's the spitting image of Joan Jett, tall, leggy and tough, while I was this tiny little mousey blonde whatever.

"Is it too late to go to the studio? What was their schedule?"

I looked down at the tablet. "They'll still be there. They're booked until midnight."

"Good." Georgie tapped the driver's shoulder and barked the name of the recording studio in his ear and I even I was sorry for his hearing.

Sinking back into the leather seat, I watched the city go past. It was so different here from where I grew up. So glitzy. I was from Montreal, Canada, but I'd moved to New York the first chance I got. How could I not? Music was my blood and it was the home of everything from Broadway to Punk Rock. People went there to follow their dreams of stardom and it was only natural I went too. Except, I didn't want to be a star. I wanted to help others become them.

Six days a week I interned at Galaxy Records. Five nights a week I worked at a cafe in Brooklyn. It was an alternative place, attracting artists and musicians. You know the type. We stayed open until ten thirty every night and the atmosphere turned dark and dangerous. The place was crammed full of old couches and armchairs complete with side tables and lamps. I'd made some good friends there, so I didn't mind the minimum wage. Tips were good because we had a lot of regulars and the boss didn't mind my rotating schedule.

It had taken me a lot to get to where I was. Falling to rock bottom in spectacular fashion and clawing my way back up. I was pretty lucky my life was back on track and going somewhere other than down the toilet. It really had been a close call. Twenty-four and still figuring it out.

Galaxy Records sounded like a label from the early nineties, but it had been around since the seventies. Despite the name, they were one of the biggest out there for rock, indie and alternative guitar and electro bands. When I was in my teens, I'd been a bit of a rebellious punk rocker, so this kind of music was my life, but I had no skill for singing or playing. I tried with disastrous results and cringed every time I thought about how bad I was.

Now, I wanted to get my foot in the door anyway I could. If I couldn't play, then I'd manage, or market, or scout, or
anything
. Somehow I'd got an internship at the label in the marketing team and had been working hard ever since. Mostly, I ran around after Georgie. She's in charge of a bands image, so it's all photo shoots, music videos and album releases. All the juicy stuff. It doesn't matter that I go out to get her lunch, it matters that I make most of the inane phone calls and tag along to meetings and shoots. It matters who I get to meet and the impression I make. I wanted to be better at Georgie's job that Georgie was, so one day they'd offer it to me.

But, all that schmoozing came with great responsibility. Integrity. The one thing that I promised myself I wouldn't do was to get involved personally with the bands. I got to meet a lot of musicians and they were all the same. Smooth talking assholes that only thought about their dicks. I guess I was pretty enough to warrant an attempt, but they never got anywhere. I'm sure Georgie slept with her fair share of rockers, but I wasn't Georgie.

So, when we inevitably came out to LA to see this new band that had been blowing up the office, The Devil's Tattoo, I was excited. I really dug their stuff. A girl and three guys from Australia. I'd always wanted to go there.

I'd spoken with their manager, Simone Glass, on a few occasions organizing some promo and she was the sweetest thing. I hoped they were all like that. We'd worked out a short but full schedule for the next few days. Georgie and I would go to see their last day of recording, depending on our flight. Then we had a dinner and the usual club outing that the label liked bands to endure in LA. Then there were a few interviews and a one off gig, which I was really looking forward to. Apparently they were really good to see live and I'd get to experience it side of stage.

It was still only around five pm when we got to the studio and we were let right in. This was nothing new for me, walking into the middle of a session, someone in the booth recording while the rest of the band lounged around, bored out of their brains with all the waiting. But when we went in, three of the four members of The Devil's Tattoo got straight up and cheerfully introduced themselves.

The woman I knew to be the lead singer was first in line and she was better looking in person than in the promo shots.

"Zoe," she said, shaking my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Jessie and likewise." She seemed friendly enough, which was a surprise.

The guy with the shaved head stood forward. "I'm Frank," he winked and I knew he was trouble.

"This is Chris," Simone said and he came forward to shake our hands. He seemed almost shy, but I knew he was with Simone.

Once everyone was done introducing themselves, I turned my attention back to Georgie, who was looking at the guy in the booth and I saw a gleam in her eye.

"That's Dee," Zoe said, watching me, watching Georgie.

"We weren't expecting you," Simone began. "And we've got this last song to do before our time's up. It was a last minute decision to add it into the album. We're thinking it'll be the first single."

"We want it to be," Zoe said, glancing at the guy in the booth.

I looked up through the soundproof glass for the first time and my eyes instantly locked with his. There was a horrible scratching sound as he messed up his take and I covered my mouth with a hand, stifling a laugh, but everyone else was falling over themselves.

He hit the intercom and said, "Start it again." His voice was one hundred percent sexy. I didn't know how I could come to that conclusion from three little words, but he was so Australian it hurt. I was a sucker for an accent. And his eyes. I felt like fanning myself.

I locked eyes with Zoe and she smiled, probably guessing that I was currently in the state of melting under those dark brown eyes of Dee, whatever his last name was.

"Sorry, it's a fleeting call," Georgie was saying. "We have a full schedule for you guys over the next few days, so we just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves. Anything you need, Simone has Jessie's number, so give us a call."

"Thanks, Georgie, Jessie," Simone said diplomatically. I'm sure they did things differently in Australia. Galaxy were more about the glitz and the dollar signs and I got the feeling, even from this short meeting, that the band wasn't into it that much. And that made me like them even more.

I didn't dare look back into the booth as we left the studio, the muted sounds of whatever part the guitarist was playing seeping out of the sound tech's headphones.

The outer door closed behind us and we walked towards the car, the look that guy had given me, playing on my mind.

"Cute, isn't he?" Georgie drawled and I shuddered internally. Of course she'd go there.

"I guess," I replied nonchalantly. The guitarist was smoking hot, but I didn't want to say it. It'd just encourage her.

"He was checking you out." It came out a little resentful.

"Don't be silly, Georgie," I said. "You know what I'm like."

She smiled at me wickedly and I was suddenly sorry for the guy. The next few days were going to be
very
interesting and I hoped it wouldn't include any damage control.