Warlord Metal (22 page)

Middlestead was nodding to himself in solemn understanding. "I know what you're talking about. I haven't seen anything either."

Jordan snorted again. When he glanced at her, she said, "Buddy, you didn't see her throwing herself at me for the last year either." She snickered at his chagrin, imagining a blush in the dark. She stuck her hand out towards him. "Truce?"

The drummer regarded her for mere seconds before taking her hand. "Truce."

They sat for another few minutes in silence, Jordan's body in a constant state of motion, letting the last of the feud between them settle into the concrete beneath their feet.

Middlestead finally glanced at his watch. "Damn. Already nearly five in the morning. I've gotta get some sleep."

"Yeah. Me, too," Jordan lied. The two stood and regarded each other for a moment. "Night, Tom."

"Night, Jordan."

The redhead moved quickly up the wooden steps to her door. Behind her, she could hear Middlestead going back into the house and shutting the sliding door behind him. She slipped inside and closed her own door, leaning against it briefly as she scanned her room.

Her eyes needed no adjustment as a single candle was burning in the window, illuminating the space in golden hues. I didn't have that burning when I left, she frowned. Jordan stepped further into the room, shrugging off her jacket and dropping it onto the floor. And then she saw the form in her bed.

Sonny was sound asleep, breathing easy. Her long frame was wrapped around one of the redhead's pillows, hugging it close in her slumber. She was still dressed in the jeans and sweater she'd been wearing at the bar, her shoes and coat lying on the floor nearby.

Jordan moved closer to the bed, her movements stealthy. She squatted down beside it and stared at the dark woman. The drug in her system screamed at her to keep moving and her hands twitched on her knees. But the guitarist ignored it, forced it down and refused to respond. It was a torment, but nothing she didn't feel she deserved.

And so she stayed, watching her lover sleep peacefully, studying her. No matter how hard she thought, Jordan couldn't fathom what made the teenager tick. Her mind worried it like an old bone, her thoughts racing as she tortured herself by not moving, not risking awakening Sonny.

Hours later, grey light showed through the window. And still Jordan remained motionless.

"Hey, sexy," a low voice murmured into her ear.

Jordan, her sleep disturbed, growled and rolled over, pulling her pillow over her head. She heard a soft chuckle and felt the sheets shifting as someone else slid into her bed.

"Time to get a move on," Sonny said, caressing her lover to wakefulness.

She grumbled, "Don't wanna."

The redhead had finally crashed from the methamphetamine early Sunday morning. She'd barely made it in the door after their gig at the Satyricon before falling into her bed. Jordan had slept most of Sunday away, recuperating from nearly twenty-four hours of crank.

Now it was Monday. And the hands on her body were warm and inviting. The post-high depression had lifted somewhat, but her eyes still hurt and her skin seemed to crawl with itchiness.

Sonny grinned as her lover squirmed a bit, trying to burrow unsuccessfully into the bedding. She snuggled closer in response.

The dark woman had awakened early Saturday morning to find Jordan peering down at her from the side of the bed. Neither of them had mentioned the night before - it was almost as if it hadn't happened. Instead, the redhead had made gentle love to Sonny. At the time, it seemed to almost be in apology for the fiasco at La Luna.

The teenager stroked her lover's arm, feeling the tattoo against her fingers. Almost like it's trying to get out for real. At some point on Friday night, Jordan and her brother must have settled their differences. The tension and animosity had fairly disappeared on Saturday and their last gig had been one of the better ones to date. Now it was a new day and the band had an appointment with White Horse Records.

Sonny continued her subtle attack. "C'mon. You've got a meeting to go to."

There was a groan from under the pillow. "Go without me," Jordan mumbled, knowing that it wasn't an option.

"Nope." The teenager slowly pulled the pillow away, revealing tousled red gold hair and eyes that were firmly closed. "Betcha they're wanting to organize a more extensive tour for the CD."

Jordan sighed. No rest for the wicked. She cracked open one emerald eye and gazed at her tormentor. "I'm awake," she growled, rolling over onto her back.

With a suspicious look, Sonny studied her. "You sure?"

"Lemme prove it to you," the guitarist purred. She reached up and grasped the back of her lover's head, forcing her closer for a rousing good morning kiss. Fuck morning breath!

The small meeting room was crowded. Not only were the members of Warlord present, but Sonny and their lawyer were in attendance, as well. On the White Horse side were the producer, Mike Hoffman, two of their own lawyers, an executive vice president named Jonathon Allen, a publicist and a secretary taking notes.

Jordan lounged in her chair, mirror shades on to protect her still sensitive eyes from the overhead fluorescents. A couple shots of Jack Daniels before leaving the house had also helped make her feel a little more human. Beside her, Sonny watched the proceedings with intense curiosity, having never been privy to the business side of the band's dealings.

The VP tossed a magazine out onto the table with a grin. "Here ya go. Warlord just debuted on Billboard at number thirty-seven."

"Thirty-seven? No shit?" Middlestead asked with wide eyes.

Allen's grin widened. "No shit," he agreed. As Hampton reached out for the magazine to have a look, he continued, "Seems that 'Face' is getting quite a lot of airplay."

"Far fucking out!" Atkins exclaimed. He leered at Jordan from across the table. "Must be my singing expertise."

"Schyeah, right," the redhead snorted. "You keep telling yourself that."

"So," the bassist interrupted, passing the magazine to Middlestead for a look. "What's that mean for us?"

"Well, frankly, we weren't expecting it," the VP said, rubbing the side of his nose. "The CD's been out for five months. A few play dates in the area and we called it good." He glanced to one side and the publicist took her cue.

"We don't know what happened," she said, with a delighted smile. "Apparently, your fans have been generating requests at various radio stations up and down the coast." She pointed at the magazine which was now in the hands of the Warlord lawyer. "Considering it debuted at thirty-seven, we think there's some room for further options."

"Which is why we called you in here," Allen finished for her.

Tamara Hampton, the band's lawyer and sister to the bassist spoke up. "My clients have already fulfilled their part of the contract they signed in September of last year. What do you have in mind?"

"A new contract," the VP stated with a smile. "Another release of the CD, maybe with a new cover. A wider distribution and a national tour of one hundred cities."

"Do you have the contract handy?"

"Certainly." Allen waved at one of his lawyers who produced the document in question and handed it to the woman.

"Why did you ask me here?" Sonny finally asked. She'd never been involved with the business aspect of Warlord before and couldn't figure out what her purpose could be in this meeting.

The producer, Mike Hoffman, smiled at her. "I asked for you. I suggested to Janet here," and he nodded to the publicist, "that we already have a wealth of information, talent and photos available for a new CD cover and perhaps some merchandising."

"Merchandising?" the dark woman nearly squeaked, her pale blue eyes wide.

Janet stepped easily into the conversation. "Yes, we'll need to consider T-shirts and such, photos for autograph sessions, a program book.... Have you ever been to a larger venue concert with a big name band?" At the teenager's nod, she continued. "Then you recall the various sales going on at that time. Merchandising brings in quite a bit of income when done properly."

Jordan frowned. "So, you want a look at her portfolio and buy her photos like you did for the last CD cover?"

The VP cut in. "Yes, that and to offer her an opportunity to do some freelance photography during the tour with Warlord."

Sonny openly gaped at the man.

Chuckling, her lover sat forward and nudged her with an elbow. "Close your mouth," she murmured. As the teenager complied with a snap, she returned her attention to the White Horse negotiators. "You have a contract for her, as well?"

"Certainly!" The second lawyer produced a document and slid it over.

The Warlord lawyer looked up from the first contract. "I'd like some time with my clients to go over these." She swiftly intercepted the one meant for Sonny. "Perhaps we could meet back here this afternoon?"

"Of course!" Allen exclaimed cheerfully. "In fact, why don't I have my secretary make a lunch reservation for you...? Say, Jake's on 10th? My treat!"

Middlestead's eyebrow rose at that and he looked meaningfully at the bassist beside him. The bald man shrugged slightly.

"That would be fine," the lawyer said with a smile. "We can meet back here around four?"

"Certainly," the VP agreed.

"Whaddya think, Tamara?" Middlestead asked the lawyer as she finally put the documents down.

She raised her eyebrows and grinned. "I think it's a pretty good contract." She took a sip of her tomato juice and blotted her lips with her napkin. "With very little editing, you've got a good thing here."

"What kind of editing?" her brother asked. He dipped a piece of bread into the garlic butter of his escargot.

"Well..." She flipped through the contract. "They've tried to gain the rights to the songs on the CD again." A pen was pulled from behind her ear and she drew a line through that section. "And full copyrights on the photos involved." Another line. "The tour looks pretty good, though I'd probably ask for some sort of compensation in the event that venues are cancelled. They don't have a clause for that."

"Sounds good," Hampton nodded. "Let's do that."

As their lawyer scribbled along the bottom of a page, the drummer asked, "What about Sonny's contract?" He looked over at his sister who was working on a salmon filet.

The lawyer swapped documents with a smile. "Actually, pretty good. Aside from the copyright crap." A line went through yet another clause. "They've nearly doubled the last amount they paid for the photography usage. They've also offered an advance to get her set up for the tour." She frowned. "Again, I would ask for a lump sum in compensation should they decide not to use any of your work during the tour. And pay your way on the tour, regardless."

Sonny nodded.

"But, when would the tour occur? Do they have any kind of indication there?" Middlestead asked with a frown.

"Well," the woman sighed. "Looks like they're aiming for an almost immediate one. They want to have a go at it somewhere towards the end of next month. You're looking at six to nine months of touring time."

The dark man looked pointedly at his sister. "What about college?"

Sonny sighed and stared off into space. "What about college?" she repeated to herself. Go to college and stay home for the next nine months? Or take a hiatus and do what I've wanted to do for over a year now - the band's first publicist....? Her eyes fell on her brother and she could feel Jordan watching from beside her. "There's hardly a choice, Tom. I go with you guys."

"Are you sure?" For so long she'd babbled about going to college and becoming a writer, Middlestead still hadn't gotten used to the course change that had occurred over a year ago. "Won't that mess up your scholarship?"

She shrugged. "Possibly. But, I've got the money in savings still. If they want it back, they can have it. I can pay for the next semester I attend with the trust fund."

He nodded solemnly. Glancing at the redhead beside Sonny, he mused, Like there was any doubt.

To the lawyer, Sonny said, "Count me in."

Apr 17, 2002

Well, tomorrow's the big day! We open for Silverchair here in Portland and then we go with them for the next 18 tour dates here on the west coast! After Silverchair, I'm not sure who they'll hook us up with.... It's gonna be cool hanging out with other bands, though. I'm really looking forward to it.

We got to see the tour buses. Wow! Totally amazing! Pretty ritzy living for a road trip. I can imagine why, too. All the comforts of home. We've got two of them. We'll be traveling with four drivers, a couple of security people, and the tour manager and his assistants.

The CD cover is looking mighty fine, if I do say so myself! Ha ha ha! It's been released all over the United States and has already shown great sales. It hasn't gone gold or anything, but Jonathan Allen says it looks pretty promising.

Tonight we're having a dinner party at Lamont's Place. He's closed down for the night and having it catered in celebration! I think there're about a hundred people on the guest list!

I've gotta finish packing...! And then get ready for the party...!

Crawl Away

Tool

You crawled away from me.

Slipped away from me.

I tried to keep ahold,

but there was nothing I could say.

You slid and crept away

and there was nothing I could say.

So what you're trying to say

is you don't wanna play.

But what you want and what you need

don't mean a fuck to me.

Because I can see your back is turning.

If I could, I'd stick the knife in.

This is love.

This is my love for you.

Say you won't go.

Chapter 7

Turbulence