Page 21 of The Deviation
He looks past me, clearing his throat as he backs up a step. “To the band, I mean.”
My smirk dies. “About what?”
He takes a deep breath, meeting my gaze once more. “I know you meant it when you said Fifth Circle isn’t looking for a manager. You told me. Ned told me. But if I could—”
“Ned told you?” I ask, frowning. “When did you meet Ned?”
“At Autumn Skies. I approached him after your set with the hope of tempting the band to reconsider.”
My eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“It was a business proposal,” he says, as if that clears everything up. “I couldn’t bring it to you. Not after we…”
“Johnny.” Gavin’s call comes from the far side of the car park, where he and Oz have just left the pub. “Are you heading out?” he continues as they join us.
“Soon,” I say with a nod. Their gazes drift to the man at my side and I make the necessary introductions. “Calum is a manager at Rush Music Management,” I tell them. “He wantedto introduce himself. I did tell him we’re not in the market for a manager, but he’s determined to be the man who changes everything.” I attempt to keep the sarcasm to the very edges of my voice—sort of.
Two sets of eyes widen before Gavin and Oz both reach out to shake Calum’s hand. “It can’t hurt to hear what you have to say,” Gavin says, cheerfully. Oz, ever the quiet one, nods his agreement.
A flicker of movement catches my attention. I turn my head to see Ned making his way over to us, his brow furrowed as he glares at Calum.
Anger flares in my gut and I stalk over to meet him halfway. “Why didn’t you tell us Calum approached you at the festival?”
His gaze darts to Calum briefly, before flicking back to me. “Why would I?” he says, his mouth set into a grim line. “We’re not looking for a manager.”
“We’ve never been approached by one, either.” I have no idea what I would have done if he’d said something. But the idea I missed the opportunity to see Calum again, even if only to turn him down, has me mad as hell. “You should have told us.”
“Fine,” Ned grits out. “I should have told you. But what difference does it make? This guy can’t do anything for us we can’t do for ourselves.”
I open my mouth to argue when Calum beats me to it. “I beg to differ,” he calls, one hand raised. “I can make your lives a lot less complicated. Take care of the business side of things so you can focus on what you do best. Making music.”
Damn, that sounds good. To be able to focus on nothing more than creating and performing. Even if it would still be strictly limited to non-business hours, the thought of not constantly chasing the end of the organisational to-do list that keeps the band running? That alone sounds like heaven.
Ned’s face contorts in disgust, and he stalks past me to join the others. “Oh, that’s what we should do, is it? Make music and leave the rest up to you? While you take a nice fat percentage of our money and make promises you won’t keep? No, thank you.”
Calum’s gaze narrows. “You’ve had a manager in the past I take it? Not a competent one.”
Ned scoffs. “Actually, he’s one of the best in the business. You should know, you’ve worked with him. If he’s so incompetent, why is he still there while you’re here trawling for clients in a pub car park?” He takes another step towards Calum, continuing in a low murmur.
Whatever he says makes Calum’s eyes widen, and then I hear him muttering about motherfucking bastards under his breath. He sighs when he drags his gaze back to Ned. “You’re one of Zac’s boys, aren’t you?”
Zac’s boys? I only know of one Zac in the management business whose name could be dropped like that. Zacariah Powell.
Ned flinches, like he’s been stuck with a branding iron. Stepping backwards, he lifts a hand to his chest. “Not anymore.”
Holy shit. Is it true? Was Ned managed by Zac Powell when he was in Sydney? Why didn’t he tell me? Yes, I would have been jealous as hell, but mostly I would have been stupidly happy for him. It would have been a dream come true.
“Look, I’m not here to cause trouble,” Calum says. “I came to…” The flick of his gaze in my direction is a sharp jolt to the senses. “I wanted to see the show.”
The show. Not me. Only the band. The potential client. My jaw clenches. To think I’ve been fantasising about him all this time, unable to get him out of my head, and he’s just here for business. I run a hand through my hair, clearing my throat in an attempt to dislodge the lump in the back of it.
“Calum wandered back here to introduce himself,” Gavin tells Ned. “In case we ever change our minds about working with him.”
“We’re not changing our minds.” Ned says the words without hesitation, without checking in with the rest of us, because he knows he doesn’t have to. He trusts us to back him up. He trusts me. The leash around my neck tugs a little tighter.
Despite the fresh rejection, Calum pulls a handful of business cards from his pocket. “Feel free to throw them out if you want.” He offers one to Ned, who doesn’t take it. With a mild shrug, Calum moves on to Oz and Gavin. They each accept a card, though whether out of interest or politeness it’s hard to tell.
My turn comes. Calum holds the card casually between his index and middle fingers. I glance at Ned, whose eyes are wild with anxiety. I shouldn’t take the card. Ned will see the simple act of acceptance as a fuck you to every promise I ever made to him. But when I look down, I see Calum’s phone number. It’s right there under his name. The possibility of future contact gifted in ink.