I pushed off the bar and followed him, ignoring the curious stares of everyone as we weaved through the tables. The man unlocked a door beside the stage, then waved me through. “Down the hall, first door on the right,” he told me. “And Mr. Nightwork?” I turned to look at him, hiding my impatience. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize with him. I wanted to get to those boys before they left. “I wish you the best of luck. We’ll miss them around here if they decide to sign with you, but they deserve this.”
He left me alone then, and I followed the directions he’d given me until I came to a steel, white door. I knocked hard to make sure I’d be heard, then waited for someone to open it.
Jesse was the one who opened the door, his eyes widening in surprise and a bit of apprehension as he took me in. Slowly, he moved aside, granting me access to the room. Everyone paused what they were doing, staring at me in confusion.
Kalin was the first to speak, his moody personality immediately making an appearance. “Do you have the wrong room?”
“No, I don’t. Not if you’re the Razor Monkees,” I gruffly answered, hating how thick my throat felt. I’d met and signed numerous bands and singers, yet I felt like this was my first time. “Mind if I come in?”
I moved past Jesse, and when no one said anything, I prompted, “Why don’t we all take a seat?” I wanted everyone to be as comfortable as possible for this conversation.
Spotting an old recliner that no one was occupying, I took a seat, hoping to prompt the rest of them to do the same, which they thankfully did. I was a little surprised to see Salem tug Tor onto his lap, considering all I saw on social media was them telling everyone they were only friends, but I managed to keep my expression schooled into a professional one.
Whatever they did or did not have going on between them was their business only.
Dalton leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, frowning at me distrustfully. “Who are you? And should I call my mom to get an attorney here?”
Everyone in their band, except Dalton, had come from the rough side of the tracks. From my research, they’d practically raised themselves and had formed their own little tight-knit family. Dalton was the only one who’d come from a good, stable home with loving parents who cared deeply not just for him, but for all the boys. But despite having other, better choices, Dalton had decided to live with his best friends in a tiny three-bedroom home right in the middle of where the other five had grown up.
He had the option to live somewhere nicer, maybe even go to college on his parents’ dime, but he’d stuck around for them.
That spoke highly of his character.
I slipped out another business card and carefully placed it on the table in the center of the room. They all looked at it, and Tor actually choked.
“My name is Richard Nightwork. I’m the owner of Nightwork Records,” I introduced myself. “I’ve been following you all for a while since you popped up on my FYP.” That was a lie. I’d just discovered them, but I didn’t want them thinking I’d made a rash decision. Something told me Dalton wouldn’t appreciate that. “You intrigued me enough that I came to see you live. And I would like to offer you a contract with my label.”
Silence met my ears. It was so quiet, I could hear the electricity humming through the walls. Finally, Dalton broke the silence, roughly clearing his throat.
“I think I should contact my parents.”
Smart kid. While I wanted to sign them desperately, they needed to do their homework on me first and not just sign with me because I was the first record label interested in them.
“Can we contact you when we have an attorney and are ready to look over everything?” Dalton added.
Standing and adjusting my suit jacket, I nodded. “My personal contact info is on that card,” I said, gesturing to the table. Kalin frowned down at it, then looked up at me like he wasn’t sure what to make of me yet. I offered him a small smile, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
Then, I reluctantly let myself out of the room, not wanting to overstay my welcome. And I prayed to any deity that would listen to me that they’d agree to sign with my label.
I wasn’t letting these boys go without a fight.
1
Kalin
I glanced at my phone screen when it lit up, then sighed, already knowing who it would be. And I wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with him. Still, that didn’t stop me from grabbing my phone to read his text to me and Spike because I was nothing if not a sucker for punishment.
Record Label Asshole Owner
I watched the live stream of your concert tonight. Beautiful, as always.
I gritted my teeth, my fingers tightening around my phone.
Richard Nightwork—aka Record Label Asshole Owner—was both the bane of my existence and the love of my life. For a little over a year now, Spike and I had been his boyfriends. He swept us off our feet with sweet words, promises of a future, and love—something Spike and I never really had growing up.
Something I was desperate to have.
Spike and I had always been a thing. Even if our friends had never really known it because we kept it under wraps, we’d always been together. Made the promise as kids and it stuck. We were one hundred percent each other’s forever. And that’d always been enough.