A keyboard clacked in the background. “Now you’re thinking like a lawyer. We have a couple options here. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Uh, one sec.” Jeff muted the mic and asked the driver, “How long to the hospital?”
He glanced at the GPS. “Thirteen minutes.”
Jeff went back to the call. “Yeah, I’ve got some time.”
“Great. I’ll get down to it.” More clicking. “No proof means we don’t have a lot of wiggle room to file a criminal complaint. You could try something in civil court. I’d have to look closer at your contract; there might be a loophole he could use. But that would take years, and in the meantime, you’re suffering. Or we just document all the shit he’s put you through and take it to the label and say, ‘Fix this.’”
Frowning, Jeff tapped the fingers of his free hand against his knee. “That doesn’t sound all that useful.”
“That’s because you’re not looking at it from a PR perspective.” There was a creak and then a thud, as though she’d just rotated her chair and taken her feet down off her desk. “The last thing a label like that needs is a scandal from a huge star alleging poor treatment. But I might actually have a better idea.”
Hope? Was that the strange, tiny, slightly buoyant feeling rising in his chest? He cleared his throat. “Oh?”
“I mean, a properly worded document from me outlining your issues with Tim lets them know we’re holding a trump card—that you’re willing to talk about the reason you’re dragging your feet on the album, which will hurt their chances of signing other talent. That’s a solid backup plan if you don’t like this one.”
“Okay.” He nodded automatically. “That seems… I mean, that gets me out of dealing with Tim the fastest. I’m pretty sure he was looking for something he could use for blackmail in my phone, so the sooner he’s out of my life, the happier I’ll be. So what’s the other idea?”
“I need time to put that together, and we can only talk about it if you get the whole group to agree that leaving Big Moose is what you want to do.Don’ttalk to anyone else about it, okay? It’s the kind of thing where, if the label gets word of it, they’re likely to ruin things. In the meantime, as a backup plan, can you email me a detailed list of your grievances? Ask the other band members if they have anything to add. I can get on it first thing tomorrow if you send it tonight. Okay?”
It sounded like it actually might be, one day in the future. “Yeah. Thanks, Monique.” He didn’t want to get too into the details in a car where the driver could overhear.
By the time they arrived at the hospital, Max had been moved to a room and was sitting up in bed, pale but lucid and conscious. “Hey,” he said when they came in. “Wow, are visiting hours not a thing anymore?”
“Jeff charmed the charge nurse,” Trix said. “He had to sign her boobs and promise we’d be out of here in ten minutes, though.”
That was a slight exaggeration—no autographs had been exchanged—but whatever. It made Max laugh weakly. “She knew she was barking up a sunflower, right?”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Funny.” But he was glad Max felt well enough to joke. “What’ve they got you on, anyway?”
He wanted to take the words back as soon as they came out, but before he could extract his foot from his throat, Max answered. “Something for the fever, plus IV fluids and some kind of painkiller? I think. I had a wicked headache. I’m probably gonna pass out soon.”
“We won’t keep you up,” Joe said. “You scared the shit out of us, though. I thought you were gonna fall off the stage.”
Trix sat next to the bed. “Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?”
For just a second, something dark passed across Max’s face. “I don’t know, I just… I thought I could play through it. Guess not.” He grimaced. “I hope I didn’t get any of you sick.”
Joe and Trix exchanged glances. Then Trix said, “We actually think I might’ve given it to you. I guess Joe and Jeff are going to be watching themselves the next couple days.”
Hooray.
“Echinacea and vitamin C cocktails,” Joe said dryly. His voice sounded hoarse again. Jeff hoped it was the same vocal strain he’d been dealing with all week. “Washed down with lemon-honey tea. The glamorous life of a rock star.”
“Better than an IV,” Max pointed out.
The charge nurse came by then to kick them out, because Jeff reallyhadonly negotiated for ten minutes. Trix handed Max his phone and he thanked them, and then they walked down to the lobby.
“Well. What next?” They were supposed to be driving to Edmonton overnight on the bus, but they couldn’t leave without Max. And Jeff didn’t want to be on a bus with Tim. They had a day off between concerts. They didn’t have to leave tonight.
“I’ll book us hotel rooms,” Joe offered.
“I’ll figure out where our stuff is.”
Trix blew out a sigh, then gestured at the pharmacy down the street. “I’ll go find you guys some immune boosters.”
IN THEmorning he remembered he needed to talk to Carter. First, though, he lay in bed and took stock of his body—no strange feeling in his stomach, no fever, no strange aches or pains.
