Chapter Thirty-Seven – Who Doesn't Like a Maverick?
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing for me." Those were the first words he said to Melinda the moment they met in front of the club.
"Hey, who wouldn't be interested in seeing a guy doing a musical marathon the way you plan on doing?" Melinda welcomed him with a hug. "I won't be here the entire time because I need my beauty sleep, but you'll be in good hands. The club owner is a close friend, as you know, and unlike me he likes social media. His kids are here too, so let's play the favoritism card first, shall we?"
"I don't mind at all since I doubt a lot of people are going to be here for a free drum lesson at seven in the morning--"
Melinda grinned and stopped him by pushing open the door. "You think? Here are your first students, Jamie Vayne."
He had to admit that he needed to pick his jaw up off the floor. The club was packed with kids. Kids who wanted to play the drums or at least try to.
"Where did you get all these children? I hope you didn't play the Pied Piper." He smiled at Melinda with his whole face.
"I might not be famous but I know a lot of people," Melinda said. "And since they're in the music business, one way or another, they're your best target audience. Come on, let's get you in your seat, professor."
***
Exhaustion was a good sensation to experience after a job well done. The kids had welcomed him as if he was already a rock star, and they had been more than enthusiastic about trying to play the drums. While the whole thing eventually ended with a victim in the shape of a knocked-over cymbal that was promptly replaced, all in all, it had been an awesome experience.
After the free lessons in the morning came the not-so-little history of rock music from a drummer's perspective. Jamie had no idea about how many people Melinda had spoken to, but there had been a stream of people coming in and there were many more of them outside. During the short breaks he allowed himself, Jamie was busy offering to take selfies with everyone who wanted one.
Cottontail's plan was definitely working. What could beat the voices of hundreds of people who posted their own experiences on social media, tagging LiveFeed so that the people behind the reality TV show couldn't ignore them? They all showed how Jamie not only really played the drums, but also what a great guy he was.
Jamie hoped his bunny boy was somewhere in the crowd, watching him. After all, this was his plan, and he should be able to enjoy seeing it in action. Janet had promised to drop by later and bring him something to eat while advising him at the same time to avoid wearing himself out for the sake of becoming famous.
It was nothing like that. Despite the physical tiredness, Jamie felt energized and ready for even more hours of playing the drums and losing himself in music. Those suckers at LiveFeed could go suck it for all he cared. If his stint with the reality TV show didn't work out, he could always strike out on his own.
Not exactly on his own. He had Melinda, who was great. If there was one reason why he wouldn't tell Arthur to go to hell – once the guy picked up the phone – it had to be her. Arthur had introduced him to her, and that had been one awesome thing that eventually came out of discovering that one of the people watching his adult-oriented stream was also interested in him as a musician.
Angus was a different matter. That was one guy Jamie wouldn't mind giving a piece of his mind to, well-seasoned with direct insults. He had given up on trying to contact the guy, because he had better things to do.
Such as performing tonight with three different bands. What better way to show that he could be a great team player than playing with so many people? He did get a bit nervous on occasion, but the moment he grabbed his drumsticks everything was all right in the universe again.
Too bad he couldn't share his triumph with its architect. Cottontail remained as adamant as ever about hiding his identity, face, and even good intentions from the world, and there was nothing left for Jamie to do but accept it. He couldn't force the guy to tell him his name, so that was that.
Jamie was usually better at accepting circumstances that were unfavorable to him than he was right now. It irked him that his bunny boy didn't want to share his success after being a big part of it. At this point in their relationship, it even seemed to be absurd. Or, Jamie began to wonder while taking a long sip from his non-alcoholic beverage, Cottontail wanted more.
To Janet, Jamie had confessed that he and the bunny boy were pretty much going steady. When he had talked to Cottontail, he hadn't been as straightforward as that. Maybe it was time for him to tell things like they were. They were in a relationship, they got along well, and while it wasn't maybe the sort of romantic involvement Rusty and Matty had, for example, it was something.
He needed to tell Cottontail that. That they had something. He was about to go back inside when someone brushed past him.
"Sorry," he said by force of habit, although it had been the other guy who had pushed in front of him to enter the club through the back door.
The young guy – he had to be in his mid-twenties or younger – didn't pay any attention to him. Jamie frowned as he followed the stranger with his eyes. There was something familiar about him. His height, his overall frame, even the way he moved…
Hair color. Hairstyle, if he could call it that, since there was nothing particularly distinctive about it. Jamie hurried inside, but he no longer could see the guy.
He chuckled to himself. What did people say about seeing the person you like in everyone you see? It seemed to be happening to him right now. Cottontail wouldn't brush past him on purpose and then ignore him, right? Unless he was there incognito, watching Jamie perform so he could offer him pointers on how to improve later.
Now, that was one more incentive for him to give it his all. Even though he had been determined to do so before, now he was even more than convinced. Tonight, he would perform for the guy who was the most deserving of Jamie's best performance.
***
Would Jamie be all right? He looked just as great as he had during the first hours of the morning, but Hearst couldn't help worrying a little. He had so much studying to do because of all the skipping he'd been doing lately, so he could only check his phone once every five minutes. There were limits to how distracted he could allow himself to get.
A lot of people were tagging LiveFeed and Jamie's name now. If the assholes running the reality show wanted numbers, Jamie would deliver the best numbers in the existence of their sorry program.
Too bad he couldn't be there with Jamie to celebrate. But he was there in spirit, and that counted the most, he told himself, while he thumbed through the textbook in front of him with the excitement of a turtle on sleeping pills.
Another thing distracting him was the lack of communication between him and Wen. While he wasn't usually the one to call, his brother had made it a habit to contact him at least once every other day. After their tense conversation the last time, Hearst found he was again capable of logging into the Xpress backend, but there were enough things left unsaid between him and his sibling that he found this stretch of silence a bit odd.
His textbooks could wait for a little while longer. He grabbed his phone and let it ring for what seemed like forever. The beep and the message about the person being called not responding took him by surprise. His brother took his phone with him everywhere, so that was weird.
Wen could do weird like it was his second nature, but he always picked up his phone.
Do you want to meet tomorrow for pizza? I'm buying.
He sent the message quickly. Wen never ignored pizza-related messages. If he was in some place where he couldn't speak on the phone – was it maybe an interview? – he would see the message and reply later.
The textbooks lined up on the bed in front of him seemed as unappealing as before. But Jamie had said something to him about having to study and finish his education or something along those lines, and Hearst found it motivating enough to return to his studies. As a reward, he'd check the posts featuring Jamie later.
***
He could see the guy sitting at the bar, and the more Jamie looked at him, the more he became confident that it had to be Cottontail, hiding there in oversized clothes, with his shoulders hunched as if he could disappear into those garments like a wizard. Since the bunny boy was the master of disguise, he most likely had a fake nose on or some weird glasses.
Jamie decided to take his chances. It was the last break before he would perform his finale for the night, so this could very well be his only opportunity to catch a rabbit. Stealthily, he approached the guy from behind. The worst thing that could happen was he might have to deal with a surprised patron. Jamie leaned in.
"Is it my imagination, or is rabbit season starting?"
The guy jumped on his stool as if someone had just lit a firecracker under his ass, confirming Jamie's suspicions. Jamie laughed and grabbed the stranger by the back of his hoodie.
"Hey, what the fuck?" the stranger squealed.
Jamie pulled his hand away. That wasn't Cottontail's voice. The guy turned and seemed to wobble as he took in his attacker's face. There was no mask, no fake nose, but his face wasn't entirely unfamiliar. The lights in the club painted the guy's face a neon blue, and Jamie could now swear that he was more confused than ever. It was as if he would swear that it was Cottontail – despite never having seen him without a mask – and not at the same time.
"Do we know each other?" the guy venomously threw at him.
Jamie stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, dude, didn't mean to scare you or anything. I thought I recognized a friend."
"A friend, huh?" The guy observed him with narrowing eyes. "What friend?"
Jamie shrugged. "Someone who looks like you from a distance. It was just a weird thing. Don't sweat it."
"Okay, whatever." The guy turned on his heel and began walking away.
Jamie looked at the half-empty glass on the counter. "Hey, you didn't finish your drink," he shouted after the stranger. There was no reply, and the stranger didn't look back over his shoulder once.
Cottontail could very well disguise his voice if he wanted, but Jamie somehow doubted it. Also, his bunny boy would never look at him like that, as if he was a bug or something equally repellent.
His phone began ringing, and Jamie pulled it out of his pocket. Once the performance started, he wouldn't be able to take any calls, so he'd better see who it was now. If his bunny boy was calling, he'd know he couldn't have been the stranger from earlier.
No, it wasn't his dear Cottontail. It was Angus. Jamie had a mind to pretend he hadn't seen the call, but he was pretty curious to hear what Angus had to say.
"Hey, Jamie, how's it going?" Angus began vivaciously as if nothing weird had happened lately, such as the demolition of Jamie's character as a musician on the feed of the reality show. "Listen, we're all so, so sorry about what happened, but I promise you, it's all been taken care of."
"And what exactly are you talking about?" Jamie asked, unwilling to let himself be treated like a fool once more.
"Those edits, all that—ah, I have no words to tell you how pissed I was. But worry not. I fired the guy."
"Who?" Jamie looked at the stage, where the next people who were about to perform with were already starting to prepare their instruments.
"The guy who tried to make you look like some kind of—well, you know what I'm talking about. I was so busy today, I had no idea what was going on, but as soon as I found out, I took the necessary actions. By the way, your feed is exploding! So many great ideas! This is what I'm talking about, Jamie! You turned this around on its head, I'm so proud of you! And hey, who doesn't like a maverick, right?"
"Yeah, okay, listen, Angus, I need to go back to the stage, so I can't talk right now," he said, as people began searching for him with their eyes. "Talk to you later, when you're not busy." He ended the conversation before Angus could squeeze in another word.
He felt some of his anger returning as he marched back to the stage. He wasn't buying it, this whole BS about some rogue employee going behind Angus's back to put him in a bad light. But he had no proof, and his bunny boy had advised him against openly going to war with people who owned the battlefield and considered it their personal playground.
Today's success was his best revenge. No matter if those assholes planned to portray him as someone who had gotten where he was by dishonest means, he needed to rise above it and focus on the positive and what he had been able to put out into the world. Cottontail could double as a motivational speaker if he wanted.
Had that stranger from earlier been him? Jamie shook his head. There were many similarities he could pinpoint, but that guy hadn't seemed like his bunny boy otherwise. Jamie had felt a particular dislike growing within him under the stranger's critical eyes.
All those things didn't matter, as long as he had his music. He sat on the drummer's stool, ready to rock. This night was his, and no one could take that away from him.
***
"Where were you all day?" Hearst answered the phone while rubbing at his eyes hard. After an entire day spent studying he felt like he wanted to crawl under a blanket and play dead until morning. He was still waiting for a phone call from Jamie to tell him how it had all gone. He didn't want to go to sleep until then.
Only it was his brother calling him instead. He had been waiting for that call, too, only not with the same anticipation and interest.
"I got myself gainfully employed, and that's why I couldn't get to the phone," Wen explained. He seemed full of self-importance, which meant that his brother must have signed with the oldest ongoing publication in the country. Otherwise, all that self-satisfaction would be misplaced.
"Congratulations," Hearst said. "What sort of employment is it, if you don't mind my asking?" It was obvious his brother was itching for him to beg for information.
"It's pretty great. I get to do what I like, which is awesome."
"Are you writing for exposure? Please don't tell me you're doing that just to see your byline--"
"It's nothing like that. But I can't tell you more. I'm on a trial run, and I had to sign some NDAs."
Hearst frowned while he fished his glasses out of a textbook he had closed on them. When he was with Jamie, he preferred his contacts, but when he was studying, he used his glasses more often.
"Already signing NDAs? Don't tell me the secret service wants to bring a guy like you into their fold."
"Sneer all you want, dear brother, but this is the real deal. I'm going to take you out on my first paycheck. It should come soon. I provided my employer with some excellent insight on an issue he finds of the utmost importance."
"Please do tell more," Hearst said from the tip of his tongue. He should have been happier for his brother, but what he felt inside wasn't at all in an accord with such selfless views. Maybe he was envious. He could live with that. After a few bad years, his brother was proving again why he was the favored son.
"I can't tell you more. Not right now. But once I'm fully employed, I'll bring you into the fold." Wen liked it best when he could take his younger brother's words and turn them against him.
"No, thanks," Hearst said dryly. "I prefer to fail on my own, without help."
"Suit yourself. But rest assured that your big bro will always be there for you."
Wen sounded like he was in a great mood. Hearst felt a little guilty about raining on his parade. "Until then," he said quickly, "how about we meet tomorrow?"
"No can do. I'll be drowning in work until late at night. Are you missing me and my guidance already? I knew it."
"As if," Hearst snorted. Whenever he was ready to see the good in his brother, Wen had a way to make him regret it. "Okay then, call me after you're finished with work."
"Hey, lil' bro," Wen began in an unnaturally disinterested tone, "do you happen to know what Jamie Vayne is up to lately?"
"No, not exactly. I told you I wasn't going to follow the guy around again."
"Ah, I see. I thought you'd be the best person to ask."
"Why?"
"You seemed to be into him big time. Anyway, I'll let you get some sleep now. Have you been studying today?"
"Are you keeping tabs on me?" Hearst asked, feeling some of his rightful indignation against his brother returning.
"I have to. You need supervision."
"I don't need supervision."
Wen laughed, his usual unpleasant laugh. "Okay, don't get your panties in a twist. Just make sure to study at least enough so that you don't embarrass us."
Us. The family. As if they were the Vanderbilts or something.
"Bye, Wen. Don't let success go to your head."
"That would be hard since I know I'm finally getting what I deserve. But I'll keep your words of wisdom in mind, Hearst. Go to sleep. Don't let the bed bugs bite you or Jamie haunt your dreams. He's not worth the trouble."
Before Hearst had the time to deliver a proper comeback to that, the line went dead. His brother would always be able to get on his nerves. It was, after all, one of his special skills.
TBC