Brando 2 (2 page)

I
sit up on a stool next to Josh and he pulls out a couple of tapes and
a USB stick.

“It’s
a nice TV.”
Josh
smiles at Jenna, then at me. “Living
the high life, I see.”

I
shrug with my eyebrows. Jenna pours each of us a cup of coffee with
the kind of quick, fluid motion I’m
used to seeing, and I understand how she manages to cope with working
at the café;
she enjoys serving people, taking care of them in some small way.

Josh
takes his coffee with one hand and slides the USB stick over to me.

“The
takes from last week,”
he
says, pausing to take a sip. “A
couple of them are really good. We should definitely use your guitar
tracks from some of them.”

“Cool.
I’ll
listen to them today.”

Jenna
suddenly explodes into a higher gear. “Shit!”
she
squeals, as she catches sight of the big clock hanging from the wall.
“I’m
gonna be
so
late!”

Josh
and I watch with awed appreciation as she slaps a cover on her juice
cup, finishes buttering her toast, sticks it in her mouth, uses a
foot to close a cabinet, hangs a purse over her shoulder, and glides
out of the door in less time than it takes me to sip my coffee and
shout a feeble “Bye!”
after
her.

“Can
she afford to live here?”
Josh
asks, a few seconds after she’s
gone. “No
offense. It’s
just, this place is…”
he
gestures at the grandeur all around us.

“Not
really,” I
admit. “I’m
paying most of the rent. But without her, I’d
just be living here alone anyway. And besides, she’s
got some auditions lined up. I really think it’s
going to happen for her soon.”
A
smile crosses my face for a split second, because I mean it.

“That’s
very generous of you.”

I
shrug. “She
believed in me for a long time. I want to repay that. I believe in
her too.”

Josh
looks seriously at his cup for a few moments before speaking again.
“There’s
somebody else who believed in you who could do with some of that
support right now.”

I
close my eyes and shake my head.

“Josh,
I know Brando’s
your friend, and he probably asked you to talk to me, but—”

“He
didn’t
ask me to talk to you. But he
is
my friend,”
he
says, before sighing. “I
don’t
know what happened between you two, but I have some idea. Either way,
he’s
still your manager. You can’t
keep avoiding him.”

“Why
not?” I
say, grabbing a slice of toast that Jenna left and sticking a piece
in my mouth. “You,
me, and the band are doing just fine recording the album without
him.”

“If
only music was all about recording,”
Josh
says, wistfully. “I’m
not the kind of guy to preach, Haley. It’s
none of my business. But you need Brando. For your own sake. He got
you this far. If you can’t
work with him, you’re
not going to last long. I’m
not telling you this because he’s
my friend, I’m
telling you this because
you
are.”

I
turn to look at him, his craggy face somehow soft and understanding.
The kind of face that couldn’t
lie if it tried.

“I
know,” I
say. “Don’t
worry. I’ll
work with Brando. I’ll
hate him, avoid him, and never forgive him. But I’ll
work with him.”

The
most surprising thing about Majestic Records is how bad the acoustics
are. Everything in the office is made of glass so shiny it reflects
almost everything under the bright lights. The surfaces are all cold
and hard, marble floors and metal desks, with only a couple of
simple, hard-lined paintings to offer a hint of personality, as if to
place complete emphasis on the people alone.

I
always did think record executives were vain and tone-deaf, and
whoever designed the Majestic Offices seems to agree.

I
step up to the reception area.

“Hi.
I’m
supposed to meet Mr. Rowland at eleven?”

“Ah,
Haley,” the
smiling girl says. “He’s
expecting you. Let me show you the way.”

She
asks the intern beside her to take over, and then leads me toward the
elevators at the back of the building. When the doors open up on the
billionth floor, I see Brando sitting on a couch, thumbing through a
magazine. My whole body clenches, as if bracing itself for the
emotional onslaught of being around him.

“Haley!”
he
says, tossing the magazine aside and standing up. He looks like shit.
But it’s
no consolation. He was probably up late screwing the next girl in
line who doesn’t
know any better.

I
clench my jaw tight and follow the receptionist, keeping my eyes on
the door. She knocks on it, and when Rowland shouts a response, opens
it for me. I walk through quickly, more to get away from Brando than
to get to the meeting quicker.

Rowland
is standing with his back to the door, his feet spread wider than a
tennis player, as he gazes out of the window. He spins around,
smiles, and walks over to his chair.

“Take
a seat, you two,”
he
says.

I
continue to ignore Brando as I sit down, though I can almost sense
his big frame gliding into the chair, his cologne wafting over me
like searching fingers, a smell that I now associate with so many
things. Being thrown onto a bed, pressed up against the window,
kissed on the neck….
Stop
it, Haley.

I
breathe deeply and cross my legs in the opposite direction from him,
as if shielding myself against his sex voodoo.

Rowland
checks his watch excitedly, then grits his teeth with restraint.

“We
should wait for Lexi, but I can’t
hold this in any longer,”
he
grins, broadly.

“Lexi?”
I
ask, the name coming out of my mouth with barely-concealed disdain.
“I
thought this meeting was about my album.”

“How
is the album going?”
Brando
asks me.

Rowland’s
glance flicks between us rapidly, waiting for a response, before he
realizes that I’m
ignoring the question.

“Whatever
the state,”
he
says, picking up on the weird vibe and using the opportunity to take
the lead, “it’ll
have to be put on hold –
because
you’re
going out on tour!
All
over America!
”
He
smiles like a game show host who’s
just told me what I’ve
won.

“What?!”
I
scream, a combination of excitement and panic rushing up like a
tsunami wave. It feels like someone just punched me in the stomach.
“How?
Why? Are you sure?”
I
bite my lip, nerves taking over.

“I
thought you’d
be excited,”
Rowland
says, leaning forward in his chair and placing his palms out wide on
the table. “It’s
not just any tour. You’re
going to be the support on
Lexi’s
tour!”

“
What?!
”
I
repeat, only this time it isn’t
in a tone of excited disbelief, this time it’s
a long wail of defiant irritation. I look over at Brando for the
first time since we entered the office and he give me a ‘not
my idea’
shrug.

Rowland
stands up and walks toward the window as he speaks. “It’s
perfect, isn’t
it? The idea came to me a few days ago, in the bath. Moments of
brilliance like that, you know, you just have to let them happen. I
mean, that’s
the nature of genius when you think about it, am I right? It’s
in the
moments
,
not the—”

“
Why?
”
Brando
suddenly calls out in a big, booming voice that slices through
Rowland’s
self-indulgence. For a second, I almost miss him.

Rowland
spins around to face us, still wearing his broad smile as he steps
back behind his desk.

“Come
on, Brando, you of all people should know.”
Rowland
turns to me. “You
and Lexi need each other. Lexi committed herself to this tour before
we got her. Sure, she sold out some of the small towns that rarely
get big stars coming through, but she’s
yet to sell out the big cities - the cooler spots, the towns with
more astute audiences. She just doesn’t
have the edge anymore. Her singles sold like hotcakes, but her album
was panned. Most people are already onto the next hot thing. Lexi
needs some credibility, a boost. She needs to be associated with
someone who has a little substance, someone street, so people don’t
write her off already –
and
that’s
where you come in!”

“Well
I don’t
need
her
,
so—”

“Oh,
but you do!”
Rowland
interrupts me as he lowers himself into his seat. “Don’t
let the TV spot you played fool you into thinking you’ve
already made it, young lady. The music bloggers might love you, but
that doesn’t
mean a thing in terms of sales. Until we start putting you in front
of bigger audiences you’re
just another cute girl with a guitar. Lexi’s
your
in
.”

“But
my music speaks for itself. I don’t
need—”

“Exactly!”
Rowland
says, jabbing his finger in the air to dot his point. “You
make great music, Haley. But you know what the problem with great
music is? You need to actually hear it.
Really
hear it. Most people won’t
give it a chance unless we sit them down and serve it right to ‘em
with a cherry on top.
Lexi
is that cherry
.”

I
just shake my head. This can’t
be happening. Everything about this is wrong.

“Listen.”
Rowland
leans forward over the desk. “You
and Lexi, you’re
like two sides of the same coin. Lexi’s
got people’s
attention, and you’ve
got the talent to back it up. Alone, she’s
going to be off the map completely in a few months, and all you’ll
get are some great reviews and enough sales to buy a new guitar. But
together
,”
he
draws his hands together, locking them and smiling as if he’s
proud of it, “you
could take each other to a new level with this tour.”

“I
don’t
know…”
I
say, but suddenly I do know. Everything he’s
saying makes perfect sense. I’d
have killed to get a tour the size of Lexi’s
a month ago. I was happy enough with the opportunity to just record
an album, but this is a chance that probably won’t
come along many more times. I remember Jenna’s
words, about how she had ‘One
chance. And that’s
all.’

“Tell
her, Brando,”
Rowland
says, sensing my still-lingering hesitation.

I
try to just glance at him, but something about his eyes makes it
impossible, and I find myself being pulled magnetically to look at
him fully. Even with the stubble and the circles under his eyes, he’s
magnificent. Hating him would be a lot easier if he didn’t
look like that.

“He’s
right, Haley,”
Brando
says slowly, almost regretfully. “The
tour could be the difference between ten thousand album sales, or
half a million. You’ll
be reaching people in a tangible way, in their home towns, standing
right in front of them, that all the internet buzz can’t
even touch.”

I
swallow hard. I think about a whole tour with Lexi. Her supporting
act. No doubt she’ll
never let me forget I’m
only there ‘cause
she is. I remember her lording it over me in the bathroom of the
club: ‘Brando’s
new little toy.’
I
close my eyes and ask myself if I’ve
really got the strength to do this.

“It’s
just three weeks,”
Rowland
says, as if reading my thoughts. “Twelve
dates.”

I
remain silent. Rowland sighs, nodding sympathetically.

“Look,
Haley, I get it. You don’t
think you’re
up to it. But you know what? You’ve
already nailed one of the hardest TV gigs there is. You’re
a natural. Just do what you—”

“Okay,
okay,” I
say, interjecting so that I don’t
have to hear his voice anymore. I know he’s
giving me a spiel –
something
I never felt from Brando.

I
guess some guys are just better at lying.

“I’ll
do it.”

Brando

The
second Rowland calls the meeting to a close, Haley springs out of her
chair and breaks for the door, her slim legs not just for show. I
bound after her, but she’s
so fast that I only catch up just as she’s
about to get into the elevator.

“Haley,
please,” I
say, grabbing her arm.

She
spins around and I almost flinch when I see her eyes. It’s
like I’m
being skewered by them. It’s
a look worse than any punch.

“Let
go,” she
says. It’s
her voice, but it’s
been possessed by something that even I’m
scared of.

“Just
give me a minute,”
I say.

“Sure.
You’re
my manager. I can give you a minute. Starting now.”

“Come
on, Haley.”

She
checks her watch. “Fifty
eight. Fifty seven. Fifty six…”

“Are
you not even going to give me a chance to explain?”

“Go
ahead,”
she
says, folding her arms and pursing her lips. “Explain.
Explain the bet you made. Explain how you got Lexi back to Majestic
Records. Explain why you were in such a rush to make my record a hit,
and what it really meant to you all along.”

“Haley,
come on,”
I
say, putting my hand on her arm, gently this time. She bats it away
violently anyway, and I see the delicate line of her jaw move as she
grinds her teeth, breathing through her nose. “I’m
sorry. Okay? I fucked up.”

She
steps toward me angrily and puts her face close to mine.

“You
didn’t
fuck up at all, Brando. You got exactly what you wanted.
I
fucked
up. I trusted you. Signed a deal with you. Slept with you. I told—”
she
stops herself as the elevator opens and lets some people out,
lowering her voice a little, from furious spite to hissing venom,
“told
you about Rex Bentley being my father. You took advantage of me,
Brando. I put everything in your hands: My career, my secrets,
my…body.
And it was all just a stupid fucking game to you. Explain this: How
could you do that to me? To someone you claimed to care about? How
did you lie so well?”