Then Carter cleared his throat. “But uh, okay, don’t take this the wrong way. But you are under contract for that album, right? Or… how does that work?”
Jeff closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said on a long exhale. “I mean, there’s ways out of it, but they’re expensive. And it feels disloyal—not to the label, fuck those guys, but to Joe and Trix and Max. I love them. I love making music with them. But rock stars aren’t the easiest people to live with. It was dumb to think I could just avoid the problem by not starting another album. Which probably doesn’t help my case with anyone.”
There was a pause and then Carter said, “How do you mean?”
He rubbed his hand over his head. “I could’ve told the truth. ‘Hey guys, I know we’ve been family for fifteen years, but I’m not sure I want to do this with you anymore. Have a nice life.’”
“You could just… bring up the idea that you want to slow down?” Carter suggested carefully. “Uh, sorry if you’ve already tried it. I’m not clear if you want help solving the problem or just someone to vent to.”
“Could you stop being disgustingly perfect for two seconds?” Jeff muttered under his breath. “I have asked, though, as it turns out. It didn’t amount to anything the last couple times because we were contracted to deliver albums by certain dates. Which is still happening now. We agreed to a maximum number of tour dates per album, like, eight years ago when we were young.” And full of energy. And stupidity. “With stipulations that dates could be added in certain increments over such-and-such a timeline if sales warranted. Same thing with the new album schedule.” Which was where they were now.
“That sounds… not good.”
“Yeah, itisnot good.” Twenty-two-year-old Jeff hadn’t thought about getting a lawyer. “Anyway. There are multiple issues here. The first is Trix and Max and Joe not knowing I’m thinking about leaving. The second is Tim will do anything to get another album because we’re a golden goose, and he’s shown he’s willing to exploit my personal life to get me to play ball.”
Carter sucked in a breath. “You think that’s what the photo was about?”
“I’m notsure.” Jeff stared at the ceiling. “But it makes the most sense. I didn’t know that was coming. Why not prime me for it? By blindsiding me, the hosts risked alienating me and potentially other celebrities who might be interviewed on the show. That’s not worth it for a two-second reaction. Maybe if they had a picture of me sucking your dick.”
“Jesus.” Carter made a strangled noise.
“Which means they thought I’d been prepped for it. Because Timshould’veprepped me for it. He didn’t. Trix and Max didn’t seem surprised, though.”
“Hmm.”
Jeff’s butt hurt. He should probably get up off the floor. “What?”
“I was just thinking,” Carter said, “that you should fire this Tim guy.”
“Right?” Maybe that was something he could bring up, at least—that he did not want to re-sign with Big Moose, period, after this album if it meant working with Tim. “Anyway. Tell me about your day so far. Hopefully it’s been better than mine.”
“Hmm. Well, it’s pretty early, but guess what? Dave’s already been over.” If a tone of voice could roll its eyes, that was what Carter’s was doing. “He’s appointed himself my personal trainer while I’m nursing the broken foot.”
“Oh Lord.” Jeff had a nightmare flash of Dave tying a dumbbell to Carter’s walking boot. “Do I need to stage an intervention? I think I have Kara’s cell phone number.”
Carter laughed. “No, it’s fine. It’s actually helpful—he’s had foot injuries before, so he knows all the exercises to keep as much mobility as possible. Plus, if I had to stop working out for six weeks, I would lose my mind.”
“True, but—” Jeff glanced at the clock. “It’s still only eight in the morning.”
“Yep,” Carter agreed cheerfully.
“Ugh.” Jeff might be becoming a morning person, but he didn’t have tolikeit. “And now what? Are you getting a ride in today?”
“Dave dropped me at the office after our workout. I’m just sitting down to open my work email. Well. Technically I was already doing the sitting-down part.”
“Uh-huh.” Jeff was skeptical of exactly how much of the recommended sitting down Carter was doing, but he didn’t have much leverage from Toronto. “Anything good?”
The sound of office chair wheels, then the clack of a keyboard. “Let’s see.” Click, click. “A couple repair orders—we’ve got some rotting boards. Safety hazard. Aren’t you surprised by how glamorous my job is?”
Jeff snorted. This wasn’t even Carter’s regular job. “Shadow me for a week and you’ll see true un-glamor, trust me.” Tour buses plus Taco Bell.Thatwould take the shine off rock stardom.
“Automatically generated email from our weather stations with climate data,” Carter continued. “Oh, look—spam.”Click.“And—jeez, what wasshedoing up at four in the morning?”
“You got an interesting one?”
“Maybe. It’s from my friend Emily. We went to school together. She was one of the good ones—managed to at least give the impression she wouldn’t shank you for grant money.”
Jeff couldn’t tell if he was joking. “She sounds nice.”
