Page 23 of Silver Sweet
“Apology not accepted since you are clearly not apologetic.”
Jesus Christ. I can’t remember the last time I met someone who has a rebuttal for everything. That’s usuallyme.
“Clearly,” I say. “But I can’t be in a band with someone who’s unavailable almost half the week.”
He sighs heavily. “I have obligations…family stuff.”
I run a tense hand through my hair. Maybe his parents have an iron fist around his schedule.
“Family stuff? Like sitting in board meetings?” I ask.
He laughs again. “If I were sitting in board meetings, I’d bail on those for you in a heartbeat. No, it’s other stuff.” He pauses for a beat. “I’m trying to be the best brother to my little brother this year. It’s a goal of mine—and I don’t have many of those outside of music. So…if you can spot me this one, that’d be great.”
“I’d be spotting youfour timesa week. Can you be the best big brother without taking this much time off?”
“It’s complicated. Showing up is important, and this year in particular matters the most. The timing, I know, is shit.” He groans out into an exhale. “But I do have a solution. I don’t think you’ll love it.”
“Let’s hear it.” I grip my phone harder.
“Would you consider coming to some of these with me? We can technically work on songs anywhere and set up rehearsal time later to flesh them out.”
“You want me to come to your family events?” I ask in surprise. “I thought those would be forbidden to anyone who doesn’t have seven figures in their bank account.”
“You will be an exception.” He adds quickly, “Not because of your bank account, dude. More so because your last name isn’t Cobalt. We are highly exclusive by design. But my family knows how much I’ve been grueling to get this band going, and they know you’re my last hope. I think they’ll respect that.”
Hethinks.
Tom takes a deeper breath. “But this will mean you’ll be meeting my brothers.”
“So?” I frown. “Is that a big deal?”
“Most people would find it a massive deal.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t worship the ground your family walks on.” I slip my cigarette back in the pack and toss it into my end table drawer. “I’m in. I’ll attend whatever functions I can. Resend your schedule without the boxes on the ones you’d let me come to.”
I can already hear him typing on a keyboard. “Your schedule is interesting, by the way. What’s a TMS? You put that down on a few days.”
“The Manhattan Symphony. I’m on their sub list, so I get called to fill in when someone is out sick or on vacation. And in full transparency, I’m also on the sub list for the New York Ballet Company Orchestra and The Manhattan Opera Orchestra, and I take some other random gigs around town. Sometimes it’s last minute, and it’s really not what I want to be doing. But I have to pay my loans some?—”
“I’m sorry,” he cuts me off. “You’re in the fucking orchestra?”
He says it like I just dropped down from outer space. “Is that a problem?”
“Why the fuck do you want to be in my band?”
I rest my skull against the headboard. “Why don’t we do this in person and not over the phone? That way you can see me glare at you.” I reach for my laptop and skim his calendar. Today,surprisingly, isn’t filled with a black box. “Meet for breakfast? There’s a good pancake spot between us.”
“Can I pick the place?” he asks.
It doesn’t bode well for “cooperating” and “collaboration” if he can’t even agree to a breakfast joint that I offer. One that I suggested forhim.I don’t even love pancakes.
“And I’m the diva?” I reply.
He groans into an exasperated sigh. “Dude.”
I think I poked a nerve.
He adds, “I’m not like that. We could eat on the hood of a car. But I do have a bodyguard trailing me, and it’s easier going somewhere I’ve been before.”
