“Linc Bierman?”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“I’m Andy--”
“Treat of Treats Records,” I blurt out.
The older man smiles. “That’s right. You’ve heard of me?”
I try to rein in my excitement so I’m not slobbering over him like a dumb old dog. Even though Andy Treat is wearing jeans ripped at the knees and a long-sleeved T-shirt pushed up to the elbows instead of a three-piece business suit like I envisioned every record exec lived in, he was still recognizable. Some guys looked at porn on their computer. I have photos saved of my favorite music people and Andy Treat is at the top of my fan list.
“Yeah. I follow your work.” Was that too eager? Fuck. I wasn’t this nervous the time I popped Cherry’s cherry.
“I hope I didn’t disappoint. I know musicians have a love/hate relationship with record labels.”
“Ah, nothing bad,” I manage to choke out. Treats Records is an indie label that has super generous terms with its artists. I don’t know why he’s here, but just standing next to him is giving me a contact high. “You scoping out an artist?” I’m not jealous at all. Not even one bit. Okay, maybe a small amount. I peer around him and try to find the musician he’s checking out. Like what does that guy have that I don’t? I bite on my tongue to keep from telling Treat I write all my own music. That’s not what sells these days. You have to have a concept or a platform or two million YouTube subscribers or something you can dance to on TikTok. I got none of those things.
“Yeah, you.”
“That’s great, man--” Lucky bastard...wait, did he just say me? “Did you--did you mean me?”
Treat’s mouth quirks up. “You and your band, yeah. You have a minute?”
“Uh, yeah.” My heart’s racing. I wish I smoked or did drugs because that would explain so much about what’s happening this second.
“Dude, we have been waiting for you to pack up the gear for the last ten minutes. What the hell are you doing?” Nick comes stomping over. “The fuck?” He does a double-take when he lays eyes on Treat. If I have a crush on Treat, Nick’s devotion borders on the serial killer level. It’s a good thing Treat is here to see us because otherwise, Nick might’ve packed Treat up with the drum kit and driven away.
“Andy--” Treat starts to say.
“Treat of Treat Records. Fuck, man, what are you doing in butt fuck nowhere?”
“I’m here to talk to your band.”
“Our band as in this dumbfuck and me and the other dumbfuck?” Nick can’t believe it and truthfully, neither can I. I’m waiting for someone to jump out from behind a speaker and yell, “Psych!”
“As in all three of you, yes.”
Over Treat’s shoulder, I see Benjy throwing his arms out wide and mouthing that it’s time for us to go. So we don’t scare Treat away with another round of “you’re fucking Andy Treat,” I pull up my big boy shorts and shove down all my enthusiasm under a heavy blanket of skepticism. “Where do you want to talk?”
“Is there a diner around here? I’m not much of a drinker anymore.” He holds up a coin that he pulled from his pocket. It has a ten year symbol on it but I have no idea what that means. I just nod.
“Yeah. Brave Dog is a diner on the edge of town. I can’t vouch for the food or coffee but the sign said it was open twenty-four hours. Do you have a ride?”
“A rental, yes. Why don’t you lead the way?”
I run to get Cherry while Nick brings the truck around. “Come on, babe,” I tell her, practically carrying her off the lawn to the parking lot.
“Where are we going?”
“Andy Treat showed up. Of Treats Records. He wants to talk to us.”
“He wants to talk to you? Oh my God! Is he going to sign you to his label?”
“No idea.”
“That’s the only thing he could want to talk to you about, isn’t it?”
“It could be a thousand things,” I answer, but inside, I’m thinking the same thoughts. If he needs session musicians, the guys that play backup for singers who need a live band on tour, he has to know plenty of those. I try to think of a band that’s currently touring that might need a replacement member, but come up blank.
“There’s only one reason he’s flown all the way from LA to here, to sign you. No factory for you, baby. It’s to the top!” She’s beaming and fuck, I want it to be true. If we’re signed to a label, I’ll be able to give Cherry the world like she deserves. But I’m not getting my hopes up.
“Like I said, it could be anything.”
I shove her in the back of the truck and Nick peels out of the lot like the cops are on our ass.
“Slow down,” I holler. “We can’t be getting a ticket while Andy Treat is following us.”
Nick slows down immediately. “Fuck. Andy Treat. What’s he here for?”
“One of his bands probably has a guy checking into rehab and needs a replacement,” Benjy says.
“No way. He’s here because he’s heard your music and loves it,” announces Cherry.
“When would he have heard it? We’re not out there. Nah, he wants Nick or Linc.” Benjy slumps lower in his seat.
“Doesn’t matter, Benjy boy. It’s all for one, one for all, remember?” I tap him on the shoulder. “No man left behind.”
“Yeah?” he says, his voice not entirely sure.
“Yeah.” I lay my hand over the back of the car seat. Nick places his fingers on top of mine and after a long pause, Benjy sticks his hand on top. “No man left behind,” we say and then raise our fists up through the top of the sunroof in Nick’s truck.
Chapter Eight
Cherry
“I’m fucking pumped!” Nick jumps up from the sofa spilling some of his beer on himself. “I can’t believe you’re flying out to LA tomorrow.” I believe it. I smile, watching all of them. They’re finally getting what they deserve. Their dreams are coming true right before my eyes. They are so talented.
I knew this day would come. I’d mentally put it off for as long as I could but now it’s here, staring me in the face. I have no other choice but to deal with it. I am truly happy for them, but a part of me is also sad. This will be the first time that I don’t feel as though I’m a part of the group. We’ve always been a unit but all that is about to change.
Even in the truck when they all held their hands up together I could feel the shift. Linc didn't reach for my hand like he normally does with his other to give mine a squeeze. I hadn’t been a part of their celebration and I wouldn’t be a part of this leg of their journey. I close my eyes for a moment to let that sink in and also so I don’t begin to cry.
“I still want to know how he got an email with our music,” Benjy says, causing me to look at him. I haven’t told the guys that I’d sent it. I don’t know why but I didn’t feel the need to. This isn’t about me.
“I think I know.” Linc pushes off the door, heading straight toward me.