Her face flashes before my eyes, her voice inside my head. I instantly calm down and work out a rhythm. I hit record on my laptop and play the sound through. It’s slow, smooth. Definitely something Liam and I can work on.
Jimmy and Tyler knock on the window, alerting me that they’re here. Tyler is our new soundboard guru and he’s been spending time with Jimmy in Los Angeles for the past week getting to know him. I stop the recording and take off my headphones to open the door for them. When I do, she’s coming down the stairs talking on her cell phone. Her eyes meet mine briefly. I can’t tell you if I’m smiling or not showing any emotion whatsoever, her presence alone makes me turn into a fool. It’s times like this that I’m thankful she works for us. It gives me every conceivable excuse to be near her. It’s so easy to fake a conversation about music and what gig we have coming up or what our deadlines are. The funny thing is, I know all of this, but act as if I’ve forgotten or can’t find my phone to look it up.
Jimmy, or JD as we call him as he tells us it suits his ‘rock star’ lifestyle, slaps me on the shoulder as he passes. He’s chuckling and muttering something to himself. Liam is trudging down the stairs before I can shut the door and turn on the light to let Katelyn and Josie know we are working.
I hate the way Liam looks in the morning. No, I shouldn’t say that. I’m happy for him. He’s with the one woman he loves and they are happy. Sickeningly happy; he’s paid his dues and deserves this. The pride I see in his eyes when he looks at his son is the same way I am when I look at Quinn. They are the best of us, no matter how much we screw up.
“JD, my man,” Liam says as they man hug. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Linda let me in. Tell me, how much did you have to pay her to leave her cushy job at the hotel to come here to take care of your sorry arse?”
Liam laughs. He made it a few months before he started looking for a housekeeper. He didn’t want Josie having to take to care of the house by herself so he asked his former maid, Linda, to move to Beaumont. He’s in the process of building her a nice little house behind his and he bought her a car.
“Let’s get to work. Katelyn is working on booking some new bars that she heard about, so we need to work out the kinks.” Liam straps his guitar on and starts tuning.
“I worked this out before you guys got here.” I move over the laptop and press play, watching JD and Liam as they listen to the melody. Liam smiles and looks over to the lyrics we’ve been working on. JD moves to the keyboard and hits a few keys and I add in the beat from my drums. Liam signals to Tyler to start recording. He strums his guitar and sings into the microphone as JD and I play along with him.
When I look up, Katelyn is watching me. Not us, but me, before she turns and is out of sight. For one brief moment I have a sliver of hope that she might feel the same way.
I set the phone down, resting my head in my hands. I know I can do this. I just have to convince myself that Liam didn’t make a mistake in hiring me. What was I thinking when I opened my mouth at Christmas, saying I could be their manager? I fear I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, but Liam has confidence in me, even if I’m only booking 4225 West in small bars.
They laugh – the bar owners – when I call to book a gig. They ask if I’m joking, and I assure them that I’m not. I tell them, repeatedly, that the band is trying a different angle, more family friendly and want to give back to the fans that have made them so popular. Still, I can hear the humor in their voices when they agree to a booking and the small fee is figured out. What they don’t understand is that with a bit of advertising, they will clean house at the end of the night. 4225 West isn’t asking for a large percentage; they just want to play and want to do it without the bright lights shining in their faces.
My phone rings, startling me. I almost spill my coffee when I reach for the handset. My hand steadies the cup before there’s a mess everywhere. I don’t know where all these jitters are coming from… okay, yes I do. I know exactly what or who is setting me on edge. I just choose to ignore it. I can’t focus on my children and career with the distractions that face me daily. I need to get through… I don’t know what. He’s my boss. That’s what I keep telling myself, whether he’s actually the one who signs my check or not. I work for him.
I pick up the phone on the fourth ring, clearing my throat and taking a deep breath before saying hello.
“Is this Katelyn Powell?”
“It is,” I say, pulling my pad of paper closer to me to take notes.