Page 4 of More Than Scars
“Mom, this is our new band manager, Pressley,” Diamond introduced her.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Sharon, and this is Everly.” She smiled fondly at the tiny boy in her arms. “I’m also Ethan and Jeremiah’s mother.” It took me a moment to register Diamond’s given name.
“And this is Elizabeth,” Sal proudly announced as he joined us with the little girl he held. “Welcome to the Masterson family.”
“See, Mom and Sal are married, you and I are technically stepbrothers, and we’re married. Incestuous.” The room collectively groaned at Diamond’s choice of words.
“Ethan, I love you more than life itself, but you are not the brightest bulb in this room.” I liked Sharon already. Her son may tower over her, but she had zero trepidation when dealing with him.
“What did I say?”
“Dude,” Stoli laughed. “I’ve got three words for you – Use. A. Dictionary.”
Diamond had a blank look on his face, then shrugged it off and switched to sweet-talking his baby girl. She wrapped her tiny hand around his massive finger. A clear sign she already had her daddy wrapped around her tiny digit.
“Alright, who’s who?” Stoli asked.
“Easton is Papa, and I’m Daddy,” Diamond cooed at his little princess. How funny that they’d chosen for Easton to be called Papa and the mountain of muscle, Diamond, to be Daddy. Their dynamics were fascinating to witness.
Throughout the interview process Diamond and Easton had been open and honest with me, their expectations laid right out and beyond reasonable. Mistakes will happen, Easton had said, we’re all human, but it’s how we move forward after making them that counts.
Family. Whether by blood or found, that was what they were all about, and Masterson practiced what they preached—family came first.
About the time River and I finished, Stoli announced it was time to head out. “Wolf just texted. The round two guitarists are eating, and as soon as they’re done, he’ll let them know who made the final five.” He slid his phone into his pocket. “By the time we fight the Seattle traffic, they’ll be ready for us.”
True, no matter what time of day it was, traffic was inevitable when getting in or out of the city. There were times when it at least moved at more than a snail’s pace, but still, it was a challenge on a good day.
We loaded up in our respective vehicles and headed out to the practice and recording studio. I hadn’t been there yet, but as part of my portfolio, a list of business connections my band would require was included. The practice and recording studio, radio station contacts, where we purchased supplies and promo materials from, and storage facilities. Most of which were Masterson-owned.
It was wise to invest back into your own business. These guys really had great heads on their shoulders. Any fears I’d had of changing from IT to band management were quickly washed away. I looked forward to playing a partin their growth and couldn’t wait to have Imminent Danger together and performance ready.
At the gate, each car entered their security code. The Masterson security team ran a tight ship and knew who was where at all times, and this building was no different. I entered the code River had given me, and a few seconds later the gate opened.
“Afternoon, Gwen,” Joey greeted the receptionist as we stepped inside. “Have you met Pressley?”
“No, I haven’t, but I did receive the email from security regarding his credentials. Let’s get your picture taken for your badge.” She took me to the security office behind her desk. “This is Evan, he’ll take care of you from here. Welcome to Masterson.”
It only took a few minutes for Evan to snap the picture and print my badge out, from there I followed Joey and Stoli upstairs, where the tryouts were being held.
“Stoli, my man,” a gentleman who looked like he belonged in ZZ Top hugged Stoli then Joey. “Great to see you both. You must be Pressley.”
“And you must be Wolf, it’s great to meet you.”
“You as well. I’m interested to get your take on the five I narrowed it down to.”
Nervous excitement ran through me. This was as real as it gets. I only hoped I didn’t make a fool of myself.
“Gentlemen, the final judges have arrived. I’m sure these two,” Wolf gestured between Joey and Stoli, “don’t need any introductions.” The five guitarists smiled wide, well, all but one. He sat at the end, hair covering his face as though he was trying to hide. “This is Pressley, he’s the new band manager with Masterson.”
The three of us took a seat in the front row as Wolf called the first contestant up to play. He broke into Metallica’s Fade to Black, only he kept his eyes on Stoli the entire time rather than paying attention to what he was doing and missed several chords.
“Dude, what gives?” Wolf razzed him when he’d finished. “You’re making me look bad for letting you get this far.
“Sor-sorry, just,” his arms flailed around. “I didn’t realize I’d be playing for one of the greats, and nerves got the best of me.”
“Take a seat, kid.” Wolf shook his head and called the next guy up.