Part 31 (1/2)

Boris looked at her and made an offer of more money than I'd ever seen in my life.

Holy s.h.i.+t.

She pushed. For just a second, I almost blurted out We'll take it! Because she calmly, and with a straight face, doubled the figures he'd offered.

Boris frowned. ”If we do that, I want an exclusive option on the next two alb.u.ms.”

”What happens if you don't take them?”

”We make the contract three years. Renewable if both sides agree. Exclusive. And if we don't take additional alb.u.ms, then we cut you loose at the end of the three years.”

”Okay,” she said. ”What's the budget on future alb.u.ms?”

”Depends on sales with the first. I've got standard language, but bottom line is, if you want more than the initial budget, then your alb.u.m needs to earn out plus two hundred percent.”

Boris looked at me. ”Crank, you got anything to add?”

I shook my head, still trying to get my thumping heart calmed down. ”I think she's got this under control.”

”Smart guy.”

Julia grinned. ”I think we have a deal?”

Boris reached over and shook her hand, and I fought to keep myself from freaking out. Because right here in this office, everything I'd ever dreamed of just came true. I don't know how she did it. I don't even care how she did it. All I knew was that right that second, I wanted to jump up and down and scream my heart out.

You two are cute (Julia) I was in a daze by the time we left Boris's office.

After the meeting was over, Allen and Crank sat talking music, while I sat down with Boris's a.s.sistant. She wrote up the terms we'd agreed on, inserting the numbers in their standard contract. I read it over carefully and then signed on behalf of the band. And just like that, Morbid Obesity was signed with a major label.

As I signed the contract, I made a decision. I wasn't going back. I wasn't going to graduate school, unless it was later, on my own terms. No Foreign Service, no law school, none of the things my parents were pus.h.i.+ng. Instead, I was going to manage this band, through the tour and afterwards. This was my job now and going forward.

Now, how to make it turn a profit. As we all shook hands, and Crank and I walked out the door of the office, me carrying the contract and a huge check, my mind was turning to a host of questions. Merchandising, t-s.h.i.+rts, websites. But that didn't last, because the moment we stepped into the elevator, Crank let out a yell, then grabbed me and started kissing me. I forgot the contract and the check and wrapped my arms around him.

”I can't believe it,” he said.

”I can't either.”

Then we were kissing and all talk was forgotten, until the doors opened and a guy in a suit stepped into the elevator and muttered, ”Get a room.”

”That's a great idea,” Crank said.

I burst into laughter. But I also felt my stomach tighten, warmth flooding my body. Maybe that really was a great idea. But we only had three hours before we had to be back at the airport. I stepped close to Crank as the elevator started moving again and whispered, ”Soon.”

He grinned and put his arm around my waist. And we started laughing again. And then I said, ”I've made my decision.”

”About?”

”Grad school ... career ... all that.”

He raised his eyebrows. ”Oh? What did you decide?”

”I think I'm going to manage Morbid Obesity. Full time.”

The elevator came to a stop at the ground floor, and he said in a near growl, ”You know how to tell a guy what he wants to hear.”

I winked at him. ”Time for you to get going writing some new songs, buddy. We've got an alb.u.m to record.”

He laughed, and we walked out onto the street. He turned toward me and pulled me close, and said, ”And what about us?” He was looking at my eyes as he said the words, and what I wanted to say was this: I'm yours. I wanted to tell him I was as committed to him as I was to the band, to our future together. I wanted to tell him ... that I loved him.

I wasn't ready for that. I looked back, feeling like his eyes were looking right into my soul. ”I'm ready to take some risks,” I said. That was as far as I could go.

”We'll take them together,” he replied. ”Take your time, Julia. I know you're not ready to commit yet. But I need you to know: I want you in my life. Not just with the band, not hanging out with my family. I want you.”

I was trembling. My whole body responded-my nipples tightening under my bra, my body flus.h.i.+ng. I didn't know how to answer that. I didn't even know how to think about that. But my body seemed to know what it thought, whatever my brain was doing. Because my body was yielding to his words, pus.h.i.+ng me closer in a way that was almost impossible to resist.

”I don't know how to answer that,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. ”I can't even think about all that.”

”You don't have to answer, Julia.” His voice felt like a caress. ”But if you aren't going to let me take you to a room right this second and have wild s.e.x, then we better go eat. Because I'm so hungry right now I could scream.”

I don't think he meant he was hungry for breakfast. But for today, in Los Angeles, that was all he was going to get. That was all I was going to get, and right now, I wanted so much more.

So we walked, and we found a diner, and sat down and ordered. And brainstormed a schedule, to write and record the alb.u.m, by the end of January, so it would be released in time for the summer tour. We talked websites and building a permanent fan base beyond the local Boston music scene. It was time to turn things up a notch, and now we had the resources to do it.

We were riding high on dreams, and for now, that was enough.

As we were finis.h.i.+ng breakfast, he said, ”The rest of the band is going to freak. None of us expected more than a single.”

”What do you think they'll say?”

He chuckled. ”Serena told me to be nice to you.”

”She what?”

”She said something along the lines of ... I'm a hollow man. And that I needed to watch out and not screw up. Because you deserve better than what I usually offer.”

I don't know why, but I found the idea of Serena and Crank discussing me ... disturbing. ”How close are you and Serena?” I asked.

He looked at me a little sideways. ”We're close friends. But not like that.”

”That's not what I meant.” Yes, it was.

”What did you mean?”

”I'm just curious,” I said, lying. ”I don't know the rest of the band that well.”

”Well ... Mark's from Somerville. We met hanging out in the Pit, four, maybe five years ago. We used to get drunk in the cemetery.”