Page 37 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

20. Texting With Jack

Sunday mornings I often go for a walk and take photos, but today I put on a pot of coffee and headed straight to my laptop. I was determined to get to the bottom of everything.

First I sent Kelly a text, once it was past 11 am.

Me: If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been working with Vegas Mud Disco, and how long has the band really been together? After that post from Tim Larker, some things don’t seem to add up.

Me: If it’s not my place, or you’re too busy to chat, don’t worry about it. I’m just a curious person and I can’t help myself when there is a mystery to be solved. But if you have a moment, please call me?

Half a cup of coffee later, she phoned me.

“Hey, Keira. Thanks so much for reaching out. To be honest, I’m dying to talk to someone about this. But nobody in Paul’s camp will listen to me, and I don’t want to upset the band when they’re on a bit of an upswing.

“Yeah. So, what do you think is going on?” I asked.

“I’m totally convinced that Paul’s trying to sabotage the band, but I’m not sure why. He keeps making ludicrous decisions that lead them astray. He also sometimes blatantly drops the ball on projects, saying that he’s too busy, but he just doesn’t seem to do a lick of work. What do you think?”

“Kelly, do you know anything about Jason Murray, the owner of their label?”

“Yeah, he’s a decent guy by all accounts. He’s really into the music, and wants to make money, but isn’t hung up on money grabbing opportunities. I think he has some integrity, which is pretty rare sometimes.”

“So if he found out that his older brother Paul was trying to sabotage a band on his label because he didn’t like their stuff, and was jealous of Jason, he’d be pretty pissed?”

There was a pause for a moment. “Paul Fleet is Jason Murray’s brother?”

“Yeah, how else could a scumbag like him score a job as a promoter with no prior experience?”

“Holy shit.” There was another pause. “That explains so much. Like why he doesn’t trust me – he must know that I realized he was lousy at his job and afraid I’d eventually say something about it.”

“Who do you report to?”

“Jason.”

“Well, I think it’s time to do some reporting. I’ll email you everything I have pieced together so far, and send you a link to Paul’s blog.”

“He blogs?”

“Yeah, and he’s been ranting about wanting to make sure some losers fail at their concert next week.”

“Goddammit.”

“Exactly. I’ll email you in a bit, okay?”

“Thanks, Keira. I really appreciate this.”

After we hung up, I fed and watered Lizzie while I wondered what to do.

I didn’t want to worry Jack with our deductions and thoughts until I knew more. He seemed to be all fired up about the upcoming gig in Montreal, and I didn’t want to mess with his creative flow. I figured since he was coming back to Toronto next week, perhaps I could get all of my thoughts in a row, get some proof, and find a gentle way to tell him that Paul was shooting the band in the foot every single chance he got.

Around four in the afternoon, Jack sent a photo of his eyes looming over a gigantic mug of coffee.

Jack: Sleep was great, but this is even better.

Me: Why do I have a feeling that once you’re finished drinking that, you’re going to go pinging around the room like a three-year-old cranked on sugar?

Jack: Because you already know me incredibly well.

Me: Do I? I haven’t even seen your criminal record.

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