Free Take Me Home Tonight by Erika Kelly Page B

“I’m a session musician. This isn’t my band. Not my place to do lead vocals.” He brushed past them.
    â€œHang on. Where you going?” Slater followed him out of the control room and into the lounge.
    â€œI’m gonna let you guys figure it out.” He pushed out the door into the bright sun of midmorning.
    â€œLook, I think it’s time we have a band meeting,” Slater said. “Nothing feels right with this album, and we have to figure out what to do about it.”
    â€œMakes sense.” Wet grass flattened under his boots. He noticed his dad’s truck at the side of Slater’s house and couldn’t miss his big body in the kitchen with Mimi.
    â€œWhat’re we gonna do about this asshole?” Derek asked, joining them.
    Leaving them to discuss it, Calix leapt up the steps to the back porch. They had no fucking idea how hard it was for him to just play keys. No idea. He was used to having total control. As singer for his band, he’d played lead guitar. All his life in his home studio, he’d played and arranged everything.
    â€œCalix, hold up,” Slater said. “What do you think of Dak?”
    He stopped before opening the door and faced them. “I think if you’re not happy with the tracks, you should say something. It’s your band. Your sound.”
    â€œThe problem is that we haven’t heard anything,” Derek said. “We don’t know
what
we’ve got.”
    â€œGuys.” Sam stood outside the studio and called from the doorway. “Need you back in here.”
    â€œHang on.” Slater’s tone had her jaw snapping shut. Turning back to Calix, he said, “You’ve got more experience at this side of things, so I’m asking for your input. This is important.”
    â€œYeah, it’s important. So, like you said, have a meeting. Figure out what you want. You don’t want to lose control of your sound.”
    â€œEvery time we bring it up, we’re told we’re supposed to trust Dak.” Derek looked frustrated.
    â€œWhy?” He knew he sounded impatient, but come on. It was their band. Why weren’t they fighting for their songs?
    â€œBecause he’s fuckin’ Dak Johnson,” Derek said.
    â€œWhich worked out great for Pitstop and the other bands he’s worked with. But is it working for you?”
    Derek and Slater shared a look, some kind of private communication going on. Derek looked uncomfortable. “No.”
    â€œThen do something about it.”
    â€œYou think we haven’t?” Slater said. “You see what he does when we challenge him.”
    â€œDo you
want
me on lead vocals on that song?” He wouldfucking love to sing that damn song. He and Slater had written it together, and he felt that song in his bones.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen talk to him. If he won’t back down, get Emmie involved. Let her handle the hard conversations.” They needed to make more use of Slater’s wife. She was a formidable manager.
    â€œHe’s right,” Derek said. “We’ve put up with enough of his shit. Let’s talk to her right now, before we go back in there.”
    Slater stopped him before he took off. “She’s at a doctor’s appointment.”
    All the anger and frustration fled, and Derek smiled. “Yeah? That’s today?”
    Slater whacked his arm with the back of his hand, cutting him off. He tried to hide his obvious happiness—but failed. “Yeah.” He looked away. “We’ll see.”
    The guys shared a look—both of them unable to contain their smiles.
    Calix had no idea what they were talking about, so he went inside. He found his dad and Mimi at the kitchen counter. “Dad.”
    â€œHey, son. Takin’ a break?”
    He nodded. “What’s up?”
    Mimi took a step back, a lock of hair falling across her rosy cheek. She pushed it aside with the back