“You read my mind,” JD said, reaching for the bottle.
She frowned. “I think it’s coming back.”
JD lifted a curious brow. “What’s coming back? Your psychic powers?”
“Don’t mock me. I saw on the news you guys found a body in a steel drum. It was a girl, wasn’t it?”
“Did they say that on the news?” I asked.
“No, but I had a vision flash in my head. Not a pleasant one, either.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who the girl is? That didn’t flash into your head, too, did it?”
She frowned at me. “No, it doesn’t work like that. And I’d prefer that it didn’t work at all.”
There always seemed to be dire consequences when Teagan used her supposed psychic abilities.
“Do you guys know what you want for lunch?”
“The question is do you?” JD teased.
“Shut up,” she sneered.
“Seafood platter,” JD said.
“Crawfish étouffée,” I added.
“Coming right up.” Teagan punched in the order.
We sipped our beer and shot the breeze. The trailer for the Bree Taylor project played three times on the flatscreen behind the bar during the course of lunch. The studio was doing a big marketing push.
Teagan freaked out when she saw it. “Oh, my God! Is that Scarlett!?”
Jack grinned from ear to ear. “My greatest achievement.”
“I’ll say. She looks stunning. Are you sure you’re related?”
JD frowned at her.
My agent called during the meal. I hadn’t talked to him in a while. I figured I'd be hearing from him soon.
I liked Joel. He was one of the good guys in a business that was filled with sharks and vipers. I had become an accidental participant in the business. My chance encounter with Bree turned into a whirlwind of studio meetings and story deals.
"Unless you’ve been living under a rock, I’m sure you've seen the trailer by now," Joel said.
"I have."
"Fantastic, isn't it?"
"It really is. I'm impressed."
"The studio is being very tight about the project. No pre-screenings. No advanced press screenings."
"What does that mean?"
"It can be good, it can be bad. If the film is a stinker, they certainly don't want the press to get advanced screenings."
I frowned. "You think it's a stinker? The trailer looks great."
"It wouldn’t be the first crappy movie with a great trailer," Joel said.
I cringed.
"That said, all of my sources tell me it's fantastic."
"Do you trust your sources?"
"I don't trust anybody. But I've acquired a good nose for bullshit. So, I'm pretty confident that we've got something that could be an awards contender here. Whether it does well at the box office is another story. Time will tell."
"Fingers crossed," I said.
"The studio's gonna fly you guys out, put you up, all the usual perks. There will be pre-parties and after-parties. You guys will have a blast. David Cameron has finished post-production on Ultra Mega 2. They’re dropping the first trailer next week, and the premiere is a month after the Bree Taylor project. You're gonna have a pretty crazy summer. David's gonna take a little time off, then he wants to go full-speed ahead with the television show."
"Sounds good to me."
"I'll touch base soon. Things are about to get exciting," Joel said before ending the call.
We finished eating and headed over to Mega Music. The music store contained every instrument and recording gadget known to man. We had the afternoon to kill until band practice, and this was a pretty good way to spend the time. Rows and rows of guitars hung on the walls in all colors: Ferrari Red, Neon Green, Jet Black, and more. There were stacks of amps and cabinets. Drums and cymbals. A recording section was home to high-end microphones, keyboards, and speakers.
“This is great,” JD said, “but I don’t need to spend anymore money here.”
“Don’t worry. I’m the one spending money today.”
7
I made a beeline for the bass guitars. After all the drama we’d been through recently with Crash breaking his wrist and needing to find a temporary replacement, I figured it was a good idea to pick up a cheap bass guitar and start practicing—just in case we ever got into a bind again. Plus, I had to admit, the one time that I did jam with the band, it was fun.
I had done some research online, and I knew what I wanted. I grabbed a cheap Squire Mini Precision Bass from the rack, found an amp, and plugged in.
The bass was finished in gloss black and had a maple fretboard. The mini bass was smaller than a regular P-Bass, and that was fine by me. I just needed something to noodle around on in my stateroom. I figured with a little practice, I'd be able to hold down a groove. And for a couple hundred bucks, I couldn’t go wrong.
I plucked the strings and started playing a Wild Fury song that Crash had taught me.
JD chuckled. "I see where this is going."
"We need backup systems in place," I said.
We always planned for contingencies on the battlefield but had been woefully underprepared when it came to the band. We were all flying by the seat of our pants. As manager, I decided it was probably a good idea to start making plans for every possible scenario. If it can go wrong, it probably will at some point.
I fumbled through the song, and JD sang along. It put a smile on both of our faces.
I liked the guitar. It felt good in my hands. I gave it a look over for blemishes or other defects that might give me a little negotiating room on the price. There were fingerprints all over it. It had been pawed on by more teenage boys than the prom queen.
I unplugged it, grabbed the small practice amp, and carted them both up to the counter.
The pasty-faced salesclerk with hair that fell into his eyes tried to upsell me on a hard case. But since the bass came with a nice soft case, I declined the offer. This wasn't a
