Ty points at the sofa. “Why don’t you go have a seat over there, and I’ll see what’s going on.” No one has noticed that we’re here yet; they’re all gathered at the far end of the narrow room near the booth, chatting with their backs to us.
Rather than take a seat, though, I follow Ty. When he reaches the other members of the band and two other people I’ve never met, the conversation stops. Ty begins to speak with them but soon realizes all of their attention is elsewhere—on me. He turns around, and when he sees me standing there, he scowls.
The angry look on his face pierces my heart like a needle. His expression falls away pretty quickly, but not fast enough. I frown back at him for an instant before turning my attention to the others. “Good morning.”
“Hey! You made it,” Mooch says. He comes over and stands in front of me looking excited, happy, and confused. I wait for him to explain his emotional state.
“You look so much like your mother, it’s just blowing my mind.”
I hold out my hand. “Thank you. I consider that a compliment.”
Instead of taking my hand, he leans in and gives me a hug. My arms drop to my sides in surprise. He pats me on the back. “Thanks for staying,” he says quietly in my ear.
I nod and back up as he lets me go. The attention is overwhelming. He probably imagines he’s my father. It makes me sad to think that so many years have passed without either of us knowing the truth. Not that I want to know the truth. I couldn’t care less which of these men is my sperm donor. What does it matter, really, in the long run? It won’t change the fact that for twenty-five years, I had no father. My heart aches just thinking about it.
Paul comes over next and shakes my hand. “I’m going to spare you the hug.” He laughs, making me smile.
“Nice to see you again.” I actually mean it when I say that. This man was never part of our mothers’ past and he’s definitely not my father or Rose’s or Em’s either. Like Ty, he’s innocent in this mess.
Cash is next, looking completely different from how he did in Toronto, wearing a pair of jogging shorts that really should be a size bigger and a T-shirt that has seen much better days. He shakes my hand too. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
He moves away when Red comes over. Red looks like he always does, his fingers full of rings, wearing a well-worn leather jacket, his rocker status on full display. He shakes my hand with both of his together. I’m enveloped in warmth and skulls made of metal. He smiles. “I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you here today.”
“Do you give all of your consultants this warm a welcome?”
He thinks about it for a couple seconds and shakes his head. “Nope. Can’t say that we do.”
A couple of the guys chuckle behind him.
“You should probably treat me like you would anybody else.” I withdraw my hand from his grasp. “I don’t want you acting different just because . . . well . . . because you know my mothers.” Awkward moments galore! Well done, Amber! I want to keep this as businesslike as possible. I want to prove to them and myself that I’m up to the task of updating their image. I always wondered after I chose to stay at the farm if I could have made it out in the big world, and now’s my one and only chance to find out. I’m not going to spoil it by letting our personal issues get in the way.
Nobody looks at me after that slick move on my part. Some are staring at the ceiling, others at the floor.
Red turns sideways and holds his hand out, gesturing to the other men in the room. “Amber, allow me to introduce you to our sound engineers. This over here is Pete Ramey, and that over there is Jed Hessler. Best in the business.”
These men are as old and grizzled as the original band members. “I recognize your names from the liner notes on one of the albums,” I say, walking over to shake their hands.
Pete holds his out first. “I guess you know the music, then?”
“I was born and raised on it.” I take Jed’s hand to shake it after finishing with Pete.
“Normally, our manager, Ted Swanson, would be here, but he’s on a long and well-deserved vacation in Tahiti. We don’t expect him back until next month,” Red says.
“Yeah, he’s always given time off when we’re in the studio,” Paul says. “There’s not much for him to do when we’re in here.”
I nod, wishing I knew what was supposed to happen next. I pull back and stand near one of the armchairs, staring at the group of men. Everybody seems happy to have me here except one of them.
I’m sorry, Ty. I wish I could say it to him out loud, but I don’t need to create any more awkward moments than I already have.
Ty speaks up. “I was hoping we could have a private meeting before we got started today.” He’s looking at Red as he makes this suggestion.
Red shrugs. “Go ahead, man. I don’t mind.”
Ty looks furtively at me before he speaks again. “Band members only.”
My heart sinks. He’s mad about me being here. Or he’s not happy with the fact that I was hired without him knowing. I’d be upset too, so I don’t blame him. I just wish I weren’t in the middle.
Red looks at Pete and Jed, gesturing with his head over to the door. “Sure. We can spare five minutes. Pete and Jed, do you mind?”
They both nod silently and leave the room, stepping outside the door to the foyer and reception area that is currently unoccupied. I couldn’t tell when I passed through it earlier if it’s ever manned with a receptionist.
I start moving toward the door too, even though Red didn’t say anything to me, but the bandleader’s voice stops me. “Not you, Amber. You stay.”
I hear Ty mumble something behind me but can only make out the words that Red responds with. “She’s not going anywhere. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of her.”
I continue toward the empty chamber. “No, that’s okay. I need to grab something anyway.” I leave the room and shut the door quietly behind me. I lean against it for a few seconds with my hand behind me on the door handle.
That was awkward. Not a good way to start the day or the relationship.
“So, I hear you’re the new consultant,” Jed says. He’s sitting in a low-slung chair. I walk over and lean against the reception desk.
“Yep. That’s me.”
“And the guys knew your mother, is that it?”
“Yes. Many moons ago, my mother hung out with the band while they toured for a couple years.”
The other guy nods his head slowly, narrowing his eyes at me. “I thought I recognized you.”
I smile at him. “That would be pretty difficult, since I wasn’t born until after my mother and the band parted ways.”
“No, I recognize you because you look like your mother. What was her name . . .” He squints and looks off into the distance.
“Barbara?” I offer.
He points at me and winks. “That’s it. Barbara Fields. You look just like her. Spittin’ image.”
My ears start to heat up. This conversation is not going in a direction I want it to. Quick. Think of something else to talk about. “So . . . you guys do the sound mixing for the band now, eh?”
“Yep,” Pete confirms. “We’ve been here since the beginning, pretty much.”
“Cool. And what about new material? Will they be working on something new today?”
“That’s the goal,” Jed says. “I’m not sure how far they’ve gotten with anything, though.”
“Great. Who’s writing the music?” I’m happy to be off the subject of my mother and the circumstances of my birth. “And who’s writing the lyrics?”
“We’re not really sure,” Pete says. “They’ve been practicing on their own, but we haven’t been in on it. This will be our first day working as a team.”
“Yeah,” Jed says. “Don’t expect to be impressed today. First days are never very productive. The band hasn’t been working on any new material since Ty started with them, so it’s bound to be a little bumpy.”
&nb
sp; “Okay, I’ll set the bar very low.”
They both chuckle politely.
The door opens behind me and someone sticks his head through the crack. It’s Mooch. “You guys can come back in. We’re all done.”
“That didn’t take very long,” I say, happy that it wasn’t a long, drawn-out argument.
“Yeah, we’ve got work to do. No time to be messing around with nonsense.”
Uh-oh. I think this means Ty got shut down. That’s not going to be good for his mood. Now I’m feeling as frustrated as he probably is. He came in here with something to talk to them about and they’re blowing him off. They must know that he found out about my new job from me rather than them. It’s pretty disrespectful, as far as I’m concerned.
If I’m right, this is something that needs to be dealt with ASAP, and I think it’s my job to do that. But the question is whether I should be doing it with them individually or together as a group. Unfortunately, since I’m mostly unqualified for this job, I have no idea which is the right answer.
Mooch pushes the door open farther so we can come back in. When we’re halfway across the room, Ty buzzes right past us without a word and goes out the door, slamming it behind him.
I turn around in shock. Holy shit. He’s really gone. When I turn back to the band, nobody looks particularly happy.
“Where’s he going?” I’m praying they’ll tell me he’s off to the bathroom for a quick break.
“Don’t know,” Red says. “Just let him cool off.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. Day one and I already suck at this job. This is terrible! Who knows, maybe by the end of two weeks I can totally break up the band and destroy their entire futures. I’ll be worse than Yoko!
“Don’t worry about it,” Cash says. “We’ll get started without him. He’ll show up.”
I hold out my hand. “Wait.” Everybody stops to look at me, even the sound engineers.
“I think I need to chat with you before you get started playing anything.” I gesture at the furniture. “Please have a seat. I’ll stand over here.” I set myself up near the mixing boards while everybody finds a place on a couch or chair. Jed and Cash sit on the arms of couches because there isn’t enough furniture for everyone.
I begin pacing in front of them, my mind racing with what I’m going to say. I don’t want to sound like their mother or somebody they can’t respect. I need to be an adult about this, and I also need to lay down some ground rules. And I have to do whatever I can to fix what’s already been broken by me simply being here.
“I had a nice conversation with Ty last night,” I say, walking back and forth in front of them. I keep my eyes glued to the carpet for now so that I can keep my brain on track. “He really is completely and totally dedicated to this band. I’m sure you already know that or you wouldn’t have hired him. And obviously he knows his stuff. He’s been playing your music since he was six years old.” I pause and look at them. “I’m serious. I saw some of his home movies. He’s been playing since he was six.”
A couple of them laugh, while the others exchange glances. I think this impresses them. I’m kind of surprised they don’t already know it. What kind of interview process did they use, anyway?
“But as you can see, he’s not very happy.” I start pacing again, imagining him in my mind with that scowl on his face. “And I understand why he’s upset. First of all, you guys hired me after you had a discussion among yourselves, but you didn’t include him.” I pause and look at them. “That’s not cool. Not cool at all.”
“We didn’t exclude him on purpose,” Paul said. “He just wasn’t around.”
I stop pacing, hands on hips. “If Red happened to not be around, would you have made the decision without him?”
Paul shrugs. “No. But he’s Red.”
I look at Red. “If Paul wasn’t around, would you have made the decision without him?”
“No. But it’s Paul. He has to be in on every decision.”
“Exactly. So I’m guessing that if any one of you in the band here—who’s in the room right now—were absent, you wouldn’t have made the decision. But it’s okay to make those decisions without Ty?”
“Yeah, but there’s a reason for that. A legal reason.” Mooch looks at Paul. “Right?”
Paul nods. “Exactly.”
I look at them in confusion. “You mean he’s legally not a member of this band?”
Everybody looks at Red, expecting him to answer. He leans forward and rubs his hands together, his rings making clicking sounds as they hit one another. “Yes and no. He’s with us on a trial basis. So, yes—on one hand, he’s a member of the band. But if he doesn’t do certain things, or if certain things don’t work out the way we want them to, he won’t be a part of the band anymore.”
I feel sick for Ty. “And he knows all this?”
“Absolutely. He signed a contract. He had plenty of time to review it, and we’ve discussed it on several occasions.”
I bite my lip, thinking it over. It makes sense that they would want him to do this. They would have no idea what some guy’s baggage might be until they spend time with him, so a contract would protect them.
I nod. “Okay. This makes sense.” I pace the floor again. “But the problem is, you want to find out if you can integrate him into the band and make him a true member, somebody you can get along with, right?”
They all nod.
“Well, that’s great. But the problem is, you’re never going to figure that stuff out about him if you don’t give him a chance to act like a true member of the band.” I look up to see if any of this is penetrating.
There’s a slightly stubborn expression on Red’s face and a blank look on Mooch’s, but Cash and Paul seem to get it. They’re nodding and glancing at each other meaningfully.
“I don’t know Ty that well—probably a whole lot less than you do,” I say. “But I’ve spent some time with him over the past couple days, and I’ve had some great conversations with him. I watched him onstage with you guys the other night, too, so I think I can say in all fairness that if you don’t act like he’s a permanent member of the band starting right now, you and he are not going to get along, and you guys are going to have to get rid of him.”
“If he can’t hang, that’s the way it needs to be,” says Red.
“It’s not that he can’t hang.” I stand there and stare right at him, this stubborn mule who might be related to someone I love . . . or me. “It’s more like you’re sabotaging him.”
Red sits back on the couch, his legs spread and his hands resting on his thighs. “Nobody here is sabotaging the kid.”
I point at Red. “There it is. Right there. Again, you’re calling him a kid. There’s something you’ve got against him. What is it?”
He hisses out a breath, looking left and right and then at the ceiling. “You’re way off base.”
I fold my arms and shake my head. “No, I’m not off base at all. I just pressed a button. Trust me . . . I’m an expert at it, so I know when I’ve done it.”
Mooch has a small smile on his face, but all he does is look at the ground. I’m reading body language all over this room, and what it tells me is very clear: Red is in charge, but if Red has an issue, nobody’s going to confront him on it; they’re going to tiptoe around him and wait for the issue to disappear on its own.
Well, that’s just too bad. I’m not the type to tiptoe or let sleeping dogs lie. I’m more the type to strap on a pair of elephant shoes and clomp around until someone wakes up and starts paying attention to me.
“Red, I need to talk to you alone.” I glance to my right. “Why don’t we go into the booth over there?”
Red looks left and right. “Everything we talk about should probably be said in front of everybody.”
“I don’t mind,” says Mooch, shrugging.
Somebody, I can’t tell if it’s Cash or Paul, starts singing under his breath. “Someone’s in trouble.”
“Just give me five
minutes,” I say, practically begging while trying to ignore the juvenile senior citizens in the room. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”
Red stands, taking a moment to straighten his spine. Cracking sounds come from his bones. “Okay. Five minutes. And then we need to get to work.”
I enter the booth ahead of him and wait for him to shut the door behind us. I take a seat on one of the stools and he does the same. We sit there and stare at each other for a couple seconds. It’s really weird looking at this man and wondering if I’ve seen his eyes before, either in the face of one of my sisters or in the mirror. I have to force myself to think about why we’re in here and not the genetic mystery still waiting to be solved.
“I know you’re not trying to be difficult, but your attitude and the things you’re saying are having the same effect.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” His voice is roughened by years of singing and hard living.
“You hired me to help you, right?”
“Of course. And I appreciate you coming in here to do that today.”
“Good. Then I need you to work with me and not against me.”
“But I am.” I detect a note of guilt in his voice that gives me hope.
“But you’re not.” I stand, unable to sit still on that stool. The booth is tiny, but I still manage to get three steps in one direction and three steps in the other. Pacing helps me gather my thoughts. “You signed Ty up as a temporary band member and you keep treating him like he’ll always be a temporary band member. If you continue to do that, he’s never going to be anything else but that.”
“It just takes time,” he says.
“Time, sure. But it also takes effort. Effort means you can’t have meetings without him, you can’t make decisions without him, you can’t keep calling him a kid, and you can’t keep him out of the loop anymore. It’s just not fair.”
“Life is unfair, and nobody ever said it wasn’t going to be.”
I stop and point at him. “Don’t. Do not quote my mother’s words at me.”
He pulls his head back a little. “I wasn’t aware that I was.”
I stop and stare at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. “God, give me strength to deal with this man.”