Keep Coming Back To Love. Christa Maurice
between songs. “Clothes cost money.”
“I’ve been holding the money they earn from their gigs for reinvestment and I have a bit of my own to invest.”
“My friend Jody can do their haircuts. If we don’t do it in the salon, she can do it for free. She’s just a student, but she’s good. She did Tyler’s hair and she always does mine. And her friend Gina will probably pitch in with the skin care.” Candy bit her lip. “I could probably cut costs on clothing if I went through the thrift stores and got creative.”
“Now she’s thinking.” Mr. Dale smiled.
Candy looked over the band again, guessing their sizes. All of them except Bear were far too scrawny. If she kept herself to a couple colors, it would help make them look like a group instead of a bunch of guys who happened to climb on stage at the same time. The trick would be not making them look like bridesmaids. This was going to require hours of hunting through thrift stores and more hours on the bus getting from one to the other. Between work, school, and tailoring there weren’t going to be enough hours in the day for a while. “When is this all going to be due?”
“We have a little time. I don’t want to be looking for a record contract until next year. The boys are too young yet and I don’t want to put them under that kind of pressure until they’re at least out of high school. Putting them on the road to tour before they’re old enough to drink would be cruel.”
Gosh, yes, because heaven knows as famous rock stars nobody would serve them if they were underage. How could Mr. Dale be so smart and so dumb at the same time? “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“They need to work out. All of them. Heroin thin is out.”
Mr. Dale held out his hand and it took her a minute to realize he wanted her to shake it. He was treating her as an adult. “We have a deal. I think I’m going to enjoy working with you.”
“You know I’m only sixteen.”
“I am aware, but you seem to be a young lady of extraordinary maturity.”
* * * *
Candy glanced across the dressing room at the sound of Jody and Jason bickering. Well, Jody was bickering. Jason was looking at her as if he couldn’t figure out why she was there. Jason’s sister Connie was consumed with reaming out Jeff for spilling a Coke on his pants. Nothing unusual, so Candy went back to the repair she had to finish before the next set. Tyler sat down next to her and kissed her cheek.
“How’s it going?”
“Be going better if Bear would stop splitting his pants.”
“Why won’t he wear the stretchy ones?”
“Because he wants his ass to be a pain in my ass.” Candy tied off the last stitch and snipped the thread with the tiny scissors she wore on a yellow ribbon around her neck. Mr. Dale had given them to her because he didn’t want her to have to carry around a pair of real scissors in a crowded club.
Tyler cupped her cheek turning her gaze to him. “Don’t run off.”
“I was going to give Bear his pants.”
“Let him come get them himself.” Tyler leaned down and kissed her. As always, he was soft and sweet. Candy closed her eyes, shutting out the noise in the room. Her body warmed, aching to be alone with him. His fingers tangled through her hair, sending shivers down her back. She moaned, parting her lips.
“You done with my pants?” Bear demanded, yanking her back to the present.
Tyler leaned back, groaning.
Bear stood in front of them wearing only his tighty-whities with his fists on his hips.
Candy threw the pants at him before turning back to Tyler. Before they could connect, a bouncer was standing at the door bellowing that the band had five minutes to get their asses on stage or they weren’t going to get paid. Tyler gave her another peck on the cheek before he left.
Candy busied herself cleaning up her things. Connie waved at her on the way out the door. After tucking away the rest of her stuff so she’d just have to grab her plastic sewing caddy when they left, Candy went out too.
The boys were already on stage and no way she was getting anywhere near it. People had started staking out spots up front lately. Most of them female. That meant she was doing her job well. Where the girls were, the boys would follow. And according to Mr. Dale, that equaled popularity across the board. It also meant every gig she missed for work she sweated out thinking he’d find somebody else.
She headed for the bar. One of the things Mr. Dale negotiated was unlimited drinks for the band and their crew. Since they were all underage, the bar didn’t mind. Pop was cheap and easy to serve, and nobody got too drunk to perform on Pepsi. On her way to the low wall leading down to the tables between the bar and the stage, she spotted a man leaning against the bar watching her. He lifted his drink to her so she changed direction.
“Hello, Joe. What are you doing here?”
“Checking out your boy.” He waved his drink toward the stage. “They’re pretty good.”
“I told you they were.”
“I have to see these things for myself.” He turned to face her. “Valley Mall is having a big celebration this summer. All summer long they’re having bands on the weekends to draw people in to shop.”
The bartender set a plastic cup of Pepsi on the bar beside her. She smiled at him in thanks. “And?”
“I have ten slots to fill. The kind of crowd your boys draw, I could see them taking up three or four.”
“What does it pay?”
He grinned. “That’s why I like you. You don’t go all squeally at the thought of a gig. You want to know what the pay is first. I planned to pay the bands a hundred.”
“Touchstone’s going rate is two hundred.” Not entirely true. They got two hundred here, but most places paid a hundred. Mr. Dale had been coaching her on the art of negotiation.
He nodded. “I may be able to see my way clear to pay one-fifty. The shows are in the afternoon, so it wouldn’t interfere with their evening shows and it would expose them to a wider audience.”
“Moms and kids who aren’t old enough to get into the underage clubs?”
Joe shrugged. “You have me there. What if we threw in all the free pop you could drink?”
“They can drink a lot of pop.” Candy licked her lips. A wider audience that wouldn’t interfere with evening gigs would be good. The extra money would cover equipment and transportation, and replace the pants Bear kept splitting. “I’ll put you in touch with the band’s manager, Alexander Dale.”
“How about a job?”
Candy had been raising her cup to her lips, but she hesitated. “A job? For who?”
“You.”
Candy put her drink down before she dropped it. A job? How many shirts did he need altered? “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve got an internship open in my office. Pays more than your little shop-girl job in less hours, and you’d have nights and weekends free to follow your band around. Of course, I’d be your boss so you’d actually have to listen to me when I tell you to do something and the pace is more demanding. You won’t have time to sew on the job anymore.”
Unreal. Joe had only known her a couple of months. He’d bought almost a complete wardrobe from her and had every piece tailored. He’d also sent a couple of people to her from his office. Thanks to him, there was no way anyone would beat her out for the sales bonus. But that was because she was a good sales person and a good seamstress. What made him think she’d fit in his marketing firm? “Why?”
“Why