Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ARTHUR

Hendrix's schedule suddenly got busy, so I didn't get to see him again until the next show. He promised we'd go out afterwards though, so I was looking forward to it. They even got an earlier slot, the band playing at nine instead of closer to midnight, so I could justify going out afterwards. I spent too long agonizing over what to wear, since I didn't know exactly what Hendrix planned after the show. I would be happy with anything, but if it did lead to sex, I didn't want to look like a hot mess.

I showed up early, as usual. Maya was on her honeymoon, so there was a new bartender at the bar. She seemed friendly, and after grabbing me a drink, she stopped by to chat. I was a little awkward, but once she got me talking about the band, I couldn't shut up. She looked bemused, leaning against the counter as she listened to me babble. She tipped her head towards the stage when the first band came out.

"That them?"

I shook my head. "No. Children of Myth is made up of all paranormals."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really? That's freaking cool. What kinds?"

I listed them while ticking off on each of my fingers. "The drummer, Ruby, is a vampire. Duncan, the keyboardist and back up vocalist, is a witch. Laz is the bass player, and he's an incubus. Their lead guitar isn't at every show, but his name is Zion and he's a werewolf. And the lead vocalist is Hendrix. He's a demon."

She pressed her lips together, trying and failing to hide her grin. "You've got a thing for that one, don't you?"

My face flushed, and I started tripping over my own tongue. "I– How–"

She shrugged, grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter after someone left a stool nearby. "Your tone changed when you were talking about him. The rest, you were excited, but tempered. Him you got all dreamy eyed about. No shame in it. I couldn't tell you how many rock stars I crushed on in my life. Pretty sure my childhood bedroom was all band posters with lipstick stains on them."

Her attempt to ease my mind helped a little, but being compared to a teenager with a crush was a little embarrassing. I didn't argue with her, though, considering I was dating the lead singer anyway. She moved on for a bit, filling drink orders as the bar got more crowded. After she was through, she headed back to me and sighed.

"I should've gotten more background information before starting here. People keep asking me questions I don't have the answer to. They didn't even give me a schedule of what bands were playing tonight. I'm out of my depth."

My brow furrowed. That didn't sound like Maya. Peeking around her, I spied the little blue notebook Maya kept under the register and pointed at it. "Have you looked in there? Maya usually has the schedules for the bands in there, as well as a few notes."

She backtracked a few steps, grabbing the notebook and flipping it open. After a few seconds, she groaned, dropping her chin forward. "It's all here. They seriously could've mentioned that sooner. Thank you, this helps a lot. Your next drink is on me, okay? I'm Aliyah, by the way."

"Arthur," I replied, shaking the hand she thrust at me. "The regular bartender is a friend of mine. I knew she wouldn't leave her replacement hanging."

We chatted a bit while I waited for the band to show up. The first band wasn't terrible, but it wasn't Children of Myth, so I didn't pay much attention to them. I mostly played with my phone, looking through the updates Duncan had done with their social media. Their pages looked better, more professional, but they still needed more content. I made a mental note to ask Hendrix if he wanted to post some clips I took from the wedding. He wasn't happy about playing at a wedding, but I got some clips of their originals and he might like them online.

I was scrolling through some pictures and videos I took so I could show Hendrix after their gig when a rough voice snapped at Aliyah. "How do I get back stage?"

She frowned at the speaker, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you with a band?"

The guy, who looked like a rat in a suit, with greasy brown hair and a terrible mustache, sneered at her. "I will be. I'm a scout for Broadcast Records. I'm here to meet with Children of Myth. Zion knows I'm coming."

That caught my attention, and I put my phone away to listen. Aliyah didn't look impressed by the guy, her eyebrow raised defiantly. I was glued to the conversation, both excited for the band and a little concerned. This guy gave me bad vibes and, if the way he spoke to Aliyah was any indication, he wasn't a nice person.

"If you're not in a band, you don't go backstage. Meet them when they're through."

He bared his teeth at her. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

She lifted a shoulder carelessly. "Does it look like I care?"

"You will care when you cost a band their future! My name is Wallis Weatherby. I am one of the best scouts in the country. Do you really want to ruin the band's chance at meeting me just because you're on a stupid power trip?"

He sounded important, and I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I interrupted them before Aliyah could piss him off any more. "The band almost always comes to the bar after the show. You can meet them then, if you want?"

Weatherby swung his gaze to me, sucking his teeth to show his irritation. "I don't wait for bands. They come to me. Either someone gets me backstage or I'm walking. I don't have all night."

This guy was an ass, and I almost wanted him to walk away, but I didn't want to ruin the band's chance at meeting with a label. Maybe the scout was only their first point of contact. They could get a manager who was a lot more friendly.

"I can text them, have them come out to see you. They're getting ready, so it might be a few minutes."

Weatherby studied me, his eyes trailing up and down like he was sizing me up. "Who the hell are you?"

"A friend of the band," I answered casually. I didn't want to say I was dating Hendrix when I didn't know how Hendrix wanted to approach that. He might want to keep our relationship quiet for all I knew. We hadn't really discussed it.

He gave me another once over before making an irritated sound. "Make it quick. I've got places to be."

He turned his back to me while I shot off a text to Hendrix. I didn't get a reply right away, but I didn't really expect to. They were usually busy before a show, getting ready and tuning their instruments. That kind of thing. I didn't expect him to drop everything to check his messages the second I texted him.

While we waited for him to respond, I tried looking up information on the label Weatherby mentioned. They represented some big names, but I couldn't get a list of the managers and there were some concerning articles about bands going to court after dropping their contracts. It made me nervous, and I checked my messages again to see if Hendrix replied.

Luckily, he got the message, but he said he needed a few minutes. I was going to update Weatherby, but he got a phone call before I could. He moved toward the back hallway where the bathrooms were, his phone pressed against his ear. I didn't know what possessed me to do it, but I followed him, staying out of sight while I eavesdropped on his phone call.

"What? No. I'm signing another band tonight." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, ignoring the no smoking signs right in front of his face. "Should be. They'll take what I give them. No one else will hire a bunch of freaks. They'll be grateful for the contract or I'll walk."

An uneasy feeling swept over me. I took a few steps back, pulling out my phone to text Hendrix again. I couldn't hear the entire conversation, but it made me nervous. It sounded like the guy was going to lowball them because he thought they wouldn't get a better offer. I knew this band, and I had full faith they could get any label they wanted once they got the attention of the right people.

"Art?"

Spinning around, I let out a sigh of relief. "Hey. Can we talk for a second?"

His brows drew together, and he looked around with a frown. "Sure. I thought you said the scout was here?"

I waved my hand towards the hallway. "He's on the phone. Did he already give you a contract?"

He nodded slowly. "He gave one to Zion when they met. Zion looked over it. He said it was a good deal. It's exciting, isn't it? A real label is asking to sign us."

He looked giddy, and I hated even thinking about taking that away from him. Still, I didn't want him getting into something he couldn't come back from. "Can I look at the contract? I'm good with numbers. I can check it over for you."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Sure. That sounds good. Lemme go grab it."

He headed backstage again while I stayed put, frozen between the hallway where the scout was still talking and the stage. I wanted to check the contract before Hendrix met with the man, but Weatherby came back out of the hallway right as Hendrix approached me with the contract. His entire demeanor changed, smiling as he came to join us.

"You're Hendrix, right? Leader of Children of Myth?"

Hendrix's eyes lit up, and he stepped around me to shake the man's hand. "Yep. Are you Mr. Weatherby?"

I hovered, unwilling to let Hendrix sign up for anything without someone watching his back. Luckily, he texted the band to come out and introduce themselves, giving me a few minutes to look over the contract. The longer I studied it, the deeper my frown got. While the rest of the band shook hands with Weatherby, I tugged Hendrix's shirt to draw his attention.

"Can we talk for a second?"

He looked concerned about the look on my face and bobbed his head, leading me with a hand on my back to the hallway that led backstage. The walls muffled the band on stage enough that I didn't have to shout when talking to Hendrix.

"Did you look at this contract?"

"Uh, not myself, no. Zion said he looked at it. I was going to look it over after we met with the guy."

I shook my head quickly. "That's not what he thinks. He thinks you're signing tonight."

The eagerness that passed over Hendrix's face killed me. I put up my hand, guilt and determination at war in my stomach, making me feel nauseous.

"Look, Hendrix, I know you're excited about a label, but I looked over the contract. They're setting you up to fail."

His face fell and his eyes dropped to the contract in my hand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think this guy preys on bands who are too eager to succeed to argue with him. The numbers in here are awful. Even if you made it big, you'd be making pennies compared to the label. And they expect a lot out of pocket. Not only that, but they've got a loyalty clause that will basically force you to stay with them, no matter what. I saw some articles online about artists who have worked with them in the past. They were put through the ringer to get out of their contracts and most of them ended up broke. I don't think you should sign this contract. You can do better."