There was press. Christian did some photo shoot for Esquire or GQ–or maybe it was Details, I couldn’t remember–that was called “Beauty and the Beat,” and it was all supermodels paired with rock drummers and wearing Armani or whatever. He even got to keep the Armani suit, which was tailored for him. He looked good in it, if a bit like a mobster, especially with his hair in a pony tail. And Jonathan did another article about us, this one for Musician, using material that hadn’t been in the Spin piece.
He called to tell me about it. “It was supposed to wait until summer, but they had something else fall through, and it’s running in the issue that’s hitting the stands this week.”
“Cool. I even subscribe to that one.”
“Musician?”
“Yeah. It’s the only way to keep up. I love that magazine. So what’d you say? I didn’t realize you’d got enough for a whole ‘nother article.”
“It’s a more technical article. More… musical.” He sounded a little unsure about something.
“Well, it is a more technical magazine. But you know you could’ve called me earlier to check if you were getting everything right, you know?”
There was a pause. Then: “Yeah, I know. But I took a lot of good notes. Your roadies gave me the rundown.”
“Ah.” Another pause. “J. You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Just a little distracted here, sorry.”
I wanted to call bullshit, because he sounded exactly like me just then, but you know, I didn’t like it when people called me on my shit, so why should he? I decided I just couldn’t let things hang like that, though.
“Um, so, when are you coming up this way again?”
“Dunno. I might be able to get up there in a couple of weeks.”
“You want to go out and look for hot new bands? There are always a ton of shows. It’d be fun. If you come before we start rehearsing again I’ll literally have nothing else to do but show you around.”
He sounded tempted. “Huh, you know, that could work. I’ll have to check my deadlines but it’s a definite idea. At least for a weekend.”
That night I made Carynne go over all the numbers with me. We sat at the kitchen table while waiting for take-out Chinese to be delivered. Christian kind of looked over my shoulder while we were doing it, but didn’t say much, sucking on a beer.
“Okay, so here’s how much you’re going to end up netting from the tour you just did,” she said, showing me the number she’d circled on a piece of gridded computer paper covered with numbers. “You’re ahead of the game a little because Digger already set up your self-employment tax payments. And you already filed for last year and pre-paid the coming quarter. And most of this is going back into expenses.”
“Okay.”
“So here’s how much actually landed in your bank account this week.” She showed me another number. It was an impressive number.
“Is that what each of us got, or is that to be divided?”
“Each of you,” she said. The number just got more impressive
“So you’re saying, yes, I can go buy some furniture.”
“Yes.”
“Is it enough I could hire someone to buy furniture for me?”
YOU ARE READING
Daron's Guitar Chronicles: Vol 4
RomanceIn Daron's life, it's 1989, his band Moondog Three is starting to take off, and although the closet door is open now, he's barely got one toe out. He's told his closest friends and bandmates that he's gay, and he's sworn off sleeping with his lead s...
