Felix
When I get to the studio the next morning, I’ve got more on my mind than just Jenna. I’m signing a contract for a job. A real job that isn’t selling cigarettes or teaching cello to whiny kids who hate the lessons and never practice. Sure, I’ve had paying gigs before, but never anything consistent, without an end date.
Whatever is going on with Alec and Jenna, the longer I think about it, the more certain I am.
I cannot let it mess this up.
Alec comes to the door when I knock. “After this you’ll have your own key,” he says, “so come on in.” He walks me down to the studio where Jenna sits on the couch. Her black hair is pulled back into a braid, the streaks of red threaded through like ribbon. She’s wearing another short skirt, this one in a shimmery silver, with a tight black t-shirt. The cellist’s chair sits empty right in front of her. My pulse, which has apparently missed the message about not screwing this up, races at the sight of her. I pull the chair back to take a seat, while Jenna grins at me and hands me a contract.
“You can take a few minutes to look it over,” she says. “It’s pretty standard. You won’t earn royalties on this album, but your salary is right there at the top. You could negotiate for more next time, but this is what Mason was making, so it’s set in the budget at least until the end of the tour.”
I’m staring at the number at the top of the page, right under their names and mine. I’d say it’s more than I’ve ever made, but that’s not exactly impressive, given I’ve never had a full-time job. Even my gig at the Kum-N-Go—which was amazingly a gas station and not an actual brothel—had only been part time, and nearly every dime I’d earned there went to drugs.
This, while far from millions, is enough to get both a decent apartment and a head start on paying back my dad. Two things that just days ago seemed desperately out of reach.
“Does it look all right?” Jenna asks.
She sounds nervous, and I nod. “Yeah, it’s great. That’ll be fine.”
Alec sits down next to her, closer than yesterday, and I notice too late that my knees are almost touching hers. I clear my throat and push back my chair, reading through the first page of the contract to avoid meeting his eyes.
“Some things to note,” Jenna says. “There’s a tour schedule attached. If you have any conflicts, let us know, but we really need you there for every performance.”
I glance at the schedule, but I already know it’s fine. For me, every day has only one task in it, and that’s to stay clean. I can’t think past the next hour sometimes, so I sure as hell haven’t planned weeks in advance.
“No problem,” I say. “I’m in.”
Alec gives Jenna a look. “There’s one more thing,” he says. I spot the plastic cup inside a ziploc bag on the arm of the couch.
“Yeah,” I say. “Like I said, you can test me anytime.”
“Not that,” Jenna says. “On the last page, you’ll find a non-disclosure agreement. After you sign that and the contract, you’ll receive some information. If you reveal it to anyone, you’ll be fired. We’re just as serious about that as the drug test. And even if you leave us for any reason, if word gets out because of you, we’ll sue.”
I look up at her. “Like, your new songs, things like that.”
Now she and Alec exchange a look. There’s definitely something I’m missing.
“Among other things,” Jenna says.
I look down at the line where I’m supposed to sign. “You should know that I’ve been staying with family. Is it okay if people overhear when I practice? I guess I could make sure I always come here, but my dad and my sister won’t—”
“No,” Jenna cuts in. “That’s no problem. I mean, when you’re working on new material, make sure they don’t record you, but even if something like that got out, it would probably just be good for publicity, especially since it’s just the cello part.”
I stare at her. She seems even more nervous than before, her fingers toying with the end of her braid. “That’s pretty much the opposite of what you just said,” I say.
Her smile is forced this time. “Ready to sign, or should we give you a few minutes?”
“No,” I say. “I’m ready.” Alec hands me a pen and I scrawl my signature at the bottom of the contract, and then again on the NDA. “Okay, so what’s the big secret? Do we work for the Russians? Are we spies for the DEA?”
“No,” Jenna says. “We’re not dating.”
I choke on my own spit. I’m well aware that she and I aren’t dating, but I’m not sure how to respond to this statement of the obvious.
“Alec and I,” Jenna says quickly. “We’re not together.”
I catch Alec giving me a knowing look, and I try to play my stumbling off as surprise.
Damn it, Gabby. I knew she was hitting on me.
“We were,” Jenna says. “We broke up about a year ago. But we’d already built the band around being a couple, and our first album had so much success that we didn’t want to just abandon the whole thing and start over. So, for now, we’re living together, but not living together, you know? And no one outside of the band can know.”
I’m sure I should be thinking about what this means professionally, but my mind keeps stuttering over this one thought. Jenna isn’t with Alec. They aren’t together.
God, is she available?
“Okay, yeah,” I say. “I see why that would be a big deal. I won’t tell anyone.”
“No one,” Alec says. “Even Mason hasn’t talked, because he knows damn well we will sue his ass, and we’d do the same to you.”
“You won’t have to,” I say. “I swear.”
Jenna looks between the two of us and smiles, sincerely this time. “All right. So that’s settled. Felix just needs to pee in this cup and then we’ll get all the paperwork to Phil and get you copies of the music. The LA kickoff concert is in a week, and then tour just over two weeks after that. First practice is the day after tomorrow. Think you can get up to speed by then?”
“I’ll try,” I say, but my mind isn’t on the work.
Jenna hands me the cup, and Alec leans back on the couch, crossing his arms, his eyes boring into me. While I’m now sure he has everything figured out, I get why he allowed Jenna to hire me.
And I’m flying so high I don’t even know what to say.