Page 46 of Shame Me
“I don’t think it’s the label—I think it’s just that dick with a camera’s idea.”
Zack shook his head, his eyes closed when I turned my head to look at him. “It’s not. They specifically said they wanted us to look sexy.”
“Fine, maybe itisthe label—but why doessexymean you guys stay fully clothed while I bare as much skin as possible? That’s bullshit.”
“I don’t disagree,” he said, pushing himself off the van and then facing me. “But this is our big break—and I might not be the smartest guy on the planet, but Idoknow that these kinds of opportunities don’t happen all the time. I don’t think we’ll ever have this chance again.” His eyes searched mine and I could see that old drive in there—behind the mistakes we’d made, behind the regret about his father—there was still that hunger that pushed us to where we were now.
“So you want me to just go along with whatever they say. Am I understanding that right?”
“No. You do what you need to do…but I’m asking you as a friend to consider this: what if we do what the label wants for our first album? I know once our music gets out there that it’ll sell itself—but we have to get it out there first. When they know our music will sell well and we could go to any label we wanted for representation, they’ll be more willing to negotiate.”
That all made sense…except for something it seemed Zack might have forgotten. “Except we can’t go anywhere because of the contract.”
“Nah. The other two albums are optional.”
Poor Zack. He was so blinded by the stars in his eyes that he had missed some of the fine print. “They’re optional for thelabel—not for us. If they say they want a second album, we don’t have a choice. They have us by the balls.”
He was quiet for a minute. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah. If they’re happy with the results, they’ll ask us to make a second and a third album before we can go anywhere else.”
“Fuck.”
“It sucks, but like you said, it’s not like we were gonna get another offer.”
“But that means—”
“It doesn’t mean shit.” I took one of his hands in both of mine, hoping to get him to look me in the eyes again. When he did, I said, “You’re right about one thing. Once we’ve made it, I can be as difficult as I want and they can’t do shit about it. There’s nothing in that contract that says I have to bare my skin. So…let’s just get through this.”
Zack nodded. “So what do you need me to do?”
“Just stand back. I’m going to see if Jonathan and I can reach a compromise. Just…don’t take his side and we’ll be fine.”
Zack raised his eyebrows. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Now let’s get back in there. It’s too damn hot out here.” Laughing, he patted me on the back as we began walking toward the door.
“Remind me to go to our next contract signing sober.”
Jerking my head toward him, I wanted to ascertain if he was serious or full of shit, and even though he grinned at me, I wondered.
As we walked through the door, I put on the most neutral expression I could, deciding my argument would be more effective if I could be calm when stating my case. But I got the terms I demanded—the jacket could be open, but I would keep it on.
And no one ever mentioned the miniskirt again.
It wasn’tuntil we were in a tour bus on the road that it hit me.This was really happening.We were a real band. I’d listened to our first single on Pandora and watched the number oflikesclimb on our video on YouTube and snippets on TikTok, but it wasn’t until we’d moved out of our apartment and taken most ofour earthly possessions back home to Nopal for me and Dalton for the guys that it started feeling like reality. Still, being home with mom for two days grounded me, making me feel like the past two years had been a dream.
The tour bus was reality.
Until that time, we’d been dealing with lots of other stuff—a merchandise deal with our label that we took because, even though we’d talked about it and come up with small items when we were independent musicians, we didn’t have the money to mass produce everything we’d need. The label actually offered us another option—to front us the money—but that would again be like a loan, just like all the other costs associated with our first album.
I was starting to wonder if we’d actually ever see a dime.
On top of that, the label hired a tour manager for us by the name of Mick Bauer. In his previous life, he’d been a roadie for some of my favorite bands, like Disturbed, Jokers Wilder, and Slipknot, and the label said they’d worked with him before and he was a total pro.
That might have been, but I thought he was an ass who had no sense of humor. He was about Braden’s height, with thinning chin-length brown hair that he usually pulled back into a ponytail and often bloodshot pale blue eyes. He had a bit of a belly, hardly noticeable under t-shirts, and both his arms were covered in tattoo sleeves.
The guy was legit, but that didn’t mean we’d be friends.
