A Song for Julia

turn that into a successful band. Turn it into a successful business, rather, because that’s how you need to be thinking.”
    Serena nodded. Crank squeezed my hand lightly. I thought about it for a minute. This was so far out of left field. I didn’t even know what to think. Except that it might be fun as hell. I could spend more time with Crank. I could do something completely different than what my father and mother had planned for me since I was three weeks old.
    I took a deep breath then said, “If I do this, I want to make one thing clear. You don’t treat me as Crank’s girlfriend. If I’m the band’s manager, I’m the manager. That means I’m going to be making calls some of you may not like. And unless you decide to fire me later on, you have to live with those decisions. I’ll consult with you, get your opinions and thoughts, and we’ll put major stuff to the whole group. But otherwise, I make the decisions.”
    Mark sat up, back straight, and eyebrows tense. “We’re the band, we make the decisions.”
    Pathin frowned. “Mark, shut up. She’s right. If we bring her on as the manager, she’s running the show. You can’t run a business by committee.”
    “She doesn’t know shit about the music business. She said it.”
    Serena turned contemptuous eyes on Mark. “Neither do you. I’m agreeable to her conditions. Pathin?”
    Pathin nodded. “We need some organization. She said words I liked: successful business. Are we gonna kid around in the garage like a bunch of kids, or are we going somewhere? I’m on board.”
    “Crank?”
    Crank shrugged. “You know where I stand.”
    Serena turned to face Mark, all eyes in the room on him. “Mark?”
    Mark looked at me, then back at the others. Finally, he said, “All right. I’m in.”
    Serena turned back to me. She still wasn’t smiling. “I’m not sure you can pull this off, Harvard chick. But we’ll give you a chance.”
    I took a deep breath. They were trusting me, a relative outsider, with something precious to them all. But, as crazy as it was, it made sense. And for the first time in a long time, I was excited about something. This was an opportunity to walk away from all of the boundaries and walls my parents had set. It was an opportunity to cut my own path, to do something that mattered to me.
    I looked at them. “Okay. I need everyone’s cell phone numbers and email addresses. Your rehearsal schedule. Any upcoming gigs. And Serena, I’ll need your contacts at the clubs and wherever else you’ve been playing. The first thing we’ve got to do is come up with a contract between the five of us. That, and get things going with the record company. Who do I talk to?”
    And just like that, I became part of the team.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    Can’t Really Talk Now (Julia)
    8:58 A.M.
    I’d been watching the clock.
    I’d been up since four in the morning, because I couldn’t sleep. I spent the last five hours online, searching out information about how the music industry worked, Googling topics like “How to Negotiate a Record Contract.” Variations on the same question. Reading and reading. Everybody described the process differently. Everyone had different advice. I knew a little, from the time I’d spent interning at Division and papers I’d done in various classes, but not enough to give me any confidence at all.
    I did have one thing going for me. On Monday, everyone would be back on campus. Including Mitch Roark, whose dad, Allen Roark, was an A-List rock star. I’d emailed Mitch, asking to get together, and included the song as an attachment to the email. If there was any real point in going to Harvard, one of the big ones was contacts.
    I had looked over the details and financials of all of the major and minor record labels. Division was minor to medium. But of bigger concern, they were on very shaky financial footing, and the IRS was investigating Ron Murray. Which meant I needed to be very careful about the terms of whatever contract we ended up with, or Morbid Obesity would be at the mercy of a company that couldn’t deliver.
    8:59 A.M.
    Crank and I had dinner together after band practice was over. Nothing special, just pizza. I’d begged off early, knowing that I had the call to make this morning. Not to mention, my parents and my sisters got into town very late last night, and they would be showing up here to pick me up sometime this morning. I was desperate to see my sisters, who I genuinely missed. My dad, too,