Page 72 of Deeper

His cell phone rang and one look at the caller ID had him standing up and excusing himself from the room.

Paul was back in his own phone and I took the opportunity to study him, curious. “Can I ask you something?”

He sent a quick text while responding. “Shoot.”

“What made you want to work with Zander, if I may ask?”

Paul appeared thoughtful. “I won’t lie, I look at the kid and see a gold mine. If this were Monopoly, that would be one hot property. But honestly, my little sister is a big So What fan and I once got her tickets to one of their shows, but my parents are up in age and couldn’t take her. Naturally, that left yours truly being the chaperone. I wasn’t too into their sound, but there was one record with an R&B flare that stuck out—”

“?‘Us or Not’?” I cut in, agreeing that that was the one song from So What that was my jam.

Paul pointed at me. “That’s the one. I just remember listening and hearing it and thinking it should’ve been a Zander solo song. I mean, he really owned that record.”

I couldn’t agree more. Zander’s vocals in that song foreshadowed all that he was capable of showcasing on his debut album. “Hell yeah.”

“So, I just knew there was at least something unique about him, something to believe in if you will.” Paul sat back and shrugged as if it were an easy decision. “The temper was a red flag, I will admit, but it wasn’t enough to just deter me. The problem with a lot of these famous kids is that they were given the world at an early age and don’t quite know how to adapt into humility and adulthood. I commend Nazanin for what she does for Zander, because he’s been in charge of everything since he was like sixteen or seventeen. He’s been allowed to do and say whatever he wants, and sometimes he needs people like Naz, or me, to bring his ass down to Earth.

“People were talking, saying he was a flop, and really, the kid should be just as big as Teddy, if not bigger by now. It’s not fair to compare those guys, but let’s be real, you can’t help it. Vernon’s stuff is all right, Oliver’s debut was just a clusterfuck of singles, Jac’s debut was good, but the real stars are Teddy and Zander. Which begs the question, how does one group get two fuckin’ Beyoncés?”

I burst into a loud, terrible laugh, having to cover my mouth to smother it down.

Was Teddy Sykes really that good? “Damn, Teddy’s that legit?”

Paul nodded. “Grammy winner for Best Rock Album. The kid’s got his own little lane and I admire that. I grew up on the Stones, Guns N’ Roses, Aerosmith, and some Mötley Crüe, so I’m liking his solo direction, and how for a young guy he’s channeling that era.”

I was going to take Paul’s word for it, because I already pitied myself for getting into Zander’s music. I was not about to go further down the rabbit hole and listen to Teddy, or worse, So What.

Paul checked something on his cell phone before going on. “Anyway, Zander’s got the greatest potential, but he’s a stubborn ass and we really gotta shoot for the damn stars on album number three so we can get him back into the spotlight. He’s gotta tour, he’s gotta interview, he’s gotta interact. People like mysterious, but they relate to someone who’s giving them something to relate to.”

I liked that Paul was honest enough to call Zander out on his shit. To truly reach his potential, Zander needed to step up and want it as badly as those hungry upcoming artists who were constantly on the go promoting their YouTube videos and SoundCloud links. “Exactly, that’s why I came up with Zaturday. He’s gotta keep giving his fans appetizers before they get this album, to ensure them they’ll be fed. It’s all or nothing now.”

Paul was impressed. “Have any idea what this week’s song will be?”

Zander had mentioned either “Triggered” by Jhené Aiko or “Rocket” by Beyoncé. Whatever he chose, Zander was going to kill it.

“He’s still deciding. The fans will love it no matter what,” I assured.

Paul looked like he wanted to ask me more, but then Zander came back into the room, shaking his head.

Paul sat up, on alert. “What’s up?”

“We gotta go.” Zander grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.

“Was that Naz?”

Zander grimaced, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “We gotta go to LAX to pick up Raj. Naz believes I need an assistant, or someone I—shecan trust close to me.”

Paul whistled and stood to his feet. “So Nazanin pulled an ambush? Gotta love it. Should we get Terry and Dax?”

“No time if we wanna beat traffic; it’s rush hour.”

Even with Zander’s hastiness to avoid linking up with his bodyguards, we still ended up in a bit of traffic. We took Zander’s all black Lexus SUV. Paul offered to drive, but Zander got behind the wheel with Paul riding shotgun and me in the second row. He set the destination into his GPS and we hit the road, regrettably having to spend over fifty minutes in traffic to get to the airport.

The airport was a frenzy of people coming and going. That old Miley Cyrus song, “Party in the USA,” came to mind at the sight of so many people buzzing around. Young hopefuls arriving to chase their dreams, or seasoned wannabes who were going home as they realized they would never achieve them. So many faces. So many expressions. So LA.

Instead of picking Rajaa up at the loading/unloading zone, Zander drove around the maze of lanes and went for the parking buildings. At Parking-3, he drove to the second level, which wasn’t as packed with cars, and found a space and parked.

Paul got on the phone with Rajaa since he was the one going out to find him. “Hey, we’re here, where are you?”

---