Fallen for Rock (27 page)

Chapter Forty-Two

I leaned against a pillar slightly in front of my prey. I had a good view of the stage, and I was certain that Iron Dave would see me. For a couple of songs, I listened intently, sipping at my drink periodically and nodding my head every now and then. Out of the corner of my eye, I made sure that Iron Dave was still where he was supposed to be.

Once my drink was finished, I abandoned the bottle and took my notebook out of my little handbag instead. I opened it to a blank page and clipped a handy reading light to the top so I could see what I was doing. On previous occasions, I had tried a similar tactic using my mobile phone, but quickly realised that I simply looked like somebody texting, and that wasn’t what I had in mind.

I cocked my ear and chewed my pen. Quick out-of-the-corner-of-eye check… Dave was still there. And I had caught his interest.

Ignoring the strange shaky sensation that always overcame me when I knew I was being watched, I started taking notes. I titled the page with ‘The Rough Shods’ in big letters heavily underlined. At length, I added random bullets in smaller print. Knowing that I was on Dave’s radar, I focused intently on the stage. No move, no riff, no beat escaped my attention. The singer tripped over a line of his lyrics but recovered, and I marked that in my notebook, adding a smiley face as code for ‘well done.’

Vaguely, I sensed a bodily presence next to me, but I resisted the temptation to look. Instead, I angled my notebook towards me
just so
, letting my new neighbour know that I was aware of his presence and didn’t want him to read my notes, but allowing him—just—to do so anyway.

The bassist chose that fortuitous moment to blunder dramatically. I couldn’t work out if he had missed a cue or if he was clueless, but he was out of tempo and out of synch with the song and failed to catch up. The result was discordant and unpleasant. I noted the singer’s look of panic and slight hesitation, and I ‘tskd’ to myself. I made a final note and closed my pad with a flourish, unclipping the light and folding it neatly into the front.

When I poked out my elbow to stuff the pad back into my bag, I accidentally-on-purpose collided with the person next to me and flashed him an apologetic smile. Iron Dave smiled back.
Yes!

I took great care not to react too keenly but simply returned my eyes to the stage and leaned once more against the pillar. Dave stepped a little closer.

‘You done taking notes?’ he asked by way of opening gambit.

Breathe, Emily, breathe
. I gave him my best ‘what’s-it-to-you’ look and offered a monosyllabic, ‘Yup,’ my eyes still trained on the stage.

‘You don’t sound impressed.’

I shrugged ever so slightly. ‘They’re not what I expected.’

‘Really? Why not?’

At last, I turned and faced Dave, accepting the invitation to talk. ‘The songs are good. But the band isn’t working together yet. I guess they have a way to go.’

Dave weighed his head from side to side. ‘A harsh critic. They have potential, though, don’t you think?’

I considered this question seriously. How best to answer? I needed to put Dave off the band, yet maintain his interest and introduce my own agenda. My mouth spoke before my brain had wrapped itself around the task at hand.

‘Truth be told,’ I heard myself saying, almost shouting over the crescendo in the latest song, ‘I’m not too impressed. There are plenty of similar bands out there who “zing” more on stage. Something’s missing here.’

Dave raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so? How interesting you should say that.’ He extended his hand. ‘I’m Dave, by the way.’

Gulp. He had taken that step—he had introduced himself. Stay cool, Emily!

I shook his hand. ‘Emily.’

‘Nice to meet you, Emily. I say…’ He hesitated for a moment, casting a quick look at the stage where The Rough Shods were evidently wrapping up their set. I followed his gaze, scanning the crowd for Mike. Ah, there he was—ready and poised to snag the drummer when the band started their take-down.

‘I say,’ Dave repeated. ‘Fancy a drink at the bar, where it’s a bit quieter?’

I swallowed hard, and Dave misinterpreted my hesitation.

‘I swear this isn’t a dodgy pick-up phrase,’ he offered quickly. ‘But I’m interested in why this band didn’t do it for you. It’s…’ He lifted his shoulders, a tiny movement up and down. ‘It’s my business, you see. I’m really just curious.’

‘Ah. Sure, okay. Why not?’ I feigned nonchalance. My heart was beating wildly, and I was near dizzy with excitement. What was the way forward? Would it be better to let on that I knew who he was? Would that buy me more professional kudos? Or should I continue playing the ingénue?

I picked up my bag and shot a last glance at the stage before following Dave. By chance, I caught Mike’s eye, and I inclined my head in what I hoped was a meaningful manner towards the bar. Mike’s eyes flicked from me to Dave in front of me and back, and he grinned. He mouthed something, but I couldn’t make out what he was trying to say. In a heartbeat, the moment was gone. I picked up my pace to catch up with Dave.

‘What’s your poison?’ Dave signalled to the bar man while he asked me his question.

‘Rum and coke, please. Thanks.’

‘One rum and coke, one Jack on the rocks,’ Dave issued his order. I spotted a table going empty while he spoke, and nudged him gently.

‘I’ll grab that table, shall I?’

I left to secure our seats before he had a chance to respond. It was a cunning move too, because I picked the chair facing the dance floor and stage, which meant I would be able to spot Mike if and when he emerged, and Dave would have to sit facing away from the action.

‘So, Emily.’ Dave appeared and set our drinks on the table. ‘Not enough “zing” for you tonight?’

I shook my head. ‘Nope. They didn’t seem to gel.’

Dave sat down and looked at me thoughtfully. ‘You have a lot of experience of looking at new bands?’

Aha. I had intrigued him. He was sussing out the competition
.

‘Some.’ I touched the top of my glass but without picking it up. ‘Thanks for this.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Dave sipped at his Jack. ‘To be honest, I’m a little disappointed, too.’

‘Is that so? In what way?’

Dave shrugged. ‘As you say, they didn’t play together as well as they should. There’s potential, but I’m not sure it’s worth the hard work.’

I privately died a thousand deaths, and my heart went out to The Rough Shods.
Please forgive me for what I am about to do
, I begged of the unknown musicians.
If music is your destiny, your time will come, but it’s not tonight.

Out loud, I agreed with Dave. ‘Probably not. There are plenty more bands out there who are further along the way.’

Dave’s eyes lit up with interest. ‘I’m intrigued to hear you say that. Listen… I don’t mean to be crass, but haven’t I seen you around lately? You look incredibly familiar.’

‘You might have seen me around, I suppose. I’m looking for a few people,’ I conceded after a little pause, as though reluctant to part with the information.

‘You are?’

I smiled and inclined my head but said no more. Dave fiddled with a cardboard coaster, turning it over and over in his hands like a magician doing a finger flip with a coin. He scrutinised me for a few seconds and took a breath. We were dancing the industry dance, and he was launching into his next move.

‘You signing folks?’

I knew it!
I gave myself a mental high five for rattling his cage. He was buying my untold story. He was taking me for real.

‘Am I signing folks?’ I repeated. ‘Now there’s a question.’

I let my statement hang for a moment before coming clean. ‘No, I’m not signing folks in the way you’re thinking. But I
am
helping to look for musicians, among others.’

‘How so?’

My turn to introduce a show-off move into our dance.

‘It’s for a new band I’ll be looking after. A client of mine is embarking on a new venture. I think you might have heard of him.’ I paused for a second as though debating whether to share the name but ploughed on without doing so. ‘The scratch demos are in the can. Now he wants to put together the band that will make them come to life. I’m helping with the search.’

Dave chewed on this information. ‘And you wanted to recruit The Rough Shods? Is that why you’re disappointed?’

‘Nope.’ This time I did take a sip of my drink to stall the conversation. I was very deliberate about it, lifting the glass, tilting it just so, swallowing my drink and setting the glass down again. ‘I’m excited, actually. I’ll feel less bad about taking away the drummer if my client finds he lives up to expectations.’

‘The drummer, eh?’ Dave didn’t miss a beat. ‘He
was
good. He kept it together, that was impressive work.’

‘Agreed.’

Silence. Dave was still fiddling with his coaster. He was also chewing at his bottom lip, not very ostentatiously, but I could see his agitation anyway. Out came the next question.

‘Are you this new band’s manager?’

Game, set and match. Nearly.

‘Nope. I’m
looking
for the right manager. That falls under the heading, “among others”.’ I smiled.

Dave sat up a little straighter. ‘Interesting,’ he offered quickly. ‘I might be able to help you with that.’

I looked him up and down pointedly. ‘You got my attention.’

Did I really say that? To
Iron Dave
? Normally, that would be his line. Did I really manage to turn the tables on this infamous manager?
I hardly dared breathe.

Dave cleared his throat. ‘I would need to hear the demo first, of course, and meet the singer. Better still, meet the band he’s assembling. But yeah.’ He smiled modestly. ‘I can sort out your client with a manager.’

‘Well.’ I inhaled deliberately. ‘The demo is easy. But look, I’m not after any old manager. I want the best.’

‘I’m not suggesting any old manager.’ Dave looked offended, and I laughed silently. ‘What exactly do you mean, the demo is easy? Have you got it with you?’

Easy, now, easy. You got him hooked. Reel him in gently
.