Page 59 of Over You
“What can I say, dickhead? You wanted me to go more pop.” I swiped a hand over my spikey hair. “This is all the pop you’re getting.”
Nash chuckled beside me. “You could give him extensions like Beyoncé.”
“She doesn’t have extensions,” Leo argued to my right.
“Are you kidding me, dude.” Nash leaned across from me and pointed at Leo. “She does.”
Ricky rested his head against his palm. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”
“It’s not that big of a deal, man.” Leo slouched in the chair to my right. “Extensions aside, what do you think of the album names?”
“They’re awful.” Ricky grabbed a piece of paper from the desk. “Karma Dharma, Truck stop Baby, and Pussy Patrol?”
I glanced at Nash. “You came up with those last two, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Ricky slapped the paper down. “We need another name.”
“Over You,” I said. Because I was. I was over the label. Over showbiz. Over it all.
“For an album name?” Nash’s lip curled with a hint of disgust. “No way.”
“I like it,” Leo said.
I whacked the side of Nash’s head. “It’s better than Pussy Patrol.”
“Ow, dude.” He rubbed at his skull. “It sounds like some chick-lit shit.”
“It’s fine.” Ricky jotted on his notepad. “The label’s wanting to release at the first of the year. Ten tracks or more. Four with the heavy, original sound. Four with a more contemporary edge—think White Zombie meets Bruno Mars.”
I scowled at that.
“It’s called compromise, Spencer,” Ricky glowered. “And then do whatever the hell you want with the other ones.” He thumbed through a document, made a fewXs, then slid the paper in front of us and extended a pen. “Sign there to get this show on the road.”
I grabbed the ball-point, scrawled my signature on the page, then shoved out of the chair. Nash and Leo penned their names, then met me at the elevator.
“You guys coming over to the house to practice?” I pressed the down arrow.
“Georgia’s not gonna frisk me again, is she?” Nash frowned. “That felt like my sister trying to feel me up.”
Leo whacked him this time. “Don’t be stupid, and she won’t frisk you.”
“I was only joking about having weed. I mean. . .” Nash trailed off when a curvy blonde sauntered past, batting her lashes. He puffed out his chest and threw his shoulder back. “How you doin’?”
Leo shook his head. “Around six?”
“Yeah. I want to spend as little time in Cali as I have to.”
That got Nash’s attention for point five seconds. “Paul Revere would feel betrayed. Going back to the motherland like a traitor. One if by land two if by. . .” He was a lost cause when another girl walked by.
The elevator opened just as my phone buzzed. Leo and Nash filed on while I stared at a string of numbers I didn’t recognize. I waved to the guys. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
The doors slid shut, and I headed to the exit at the end of the hall. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t call you for money.” It was Vicki. “And I never expected forgiveness. I don’t know how much you know about The Twelve Steps, but I’m on step nine. Make amends.”
