Free Encore to an Empty Room by Kevin Emerson Page B

I find instead makes me forget to breathe:
    From: Tessa Cruz ([email protected])
    To: Dangerheart’s Mailbox ([email protected])
    ---------------------------------------------------------
    Greetings from Jet City Records!
    December 26 at 9:25am
    ---------------------------------------------------------
    Hello, Dangerheart!
    We just read the feature about you in Toast & Jam. We’ve checked out your songs and we’d love to speak with you about working together. We dig what you have going on and would love to help you take it to the next level. We realize you may have had other offers but we hope you’ll consider getting in touch!
    We look forward to hearing from you,
    Tessa and the Jet City Team
    Tessa Cruz
    Senior Talent Scout
    Jet City Records
    Seattle, WA
    I stare at it for a minute, screaming silently, breathing hard, and basically just thinking whoa whoa whoa!
    Of course I’ve heard of Jet City. They’re small, but focused. Not a shark. But not a minnow either. And I love their album designs.
    I text Caleb immediately, but he doesn’t reply. After afew minutes I’m too excited to sit still so I head down for breakfast.
    â€œSomebody’s got their nose in the phone this morning,” says Dad from the table, where he’s eating a grapefruit and reading his tablet.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œI’m glad we’re going to see Caleb again today,” says Mom, across from Dad, doing sudoku.
    Of course I can taste the side of guilt with Mom’s comment. They’ve only met Caleb one time: when he came over on Thanksgiving evening. Bradley and Sonya were in town and we played Apples to Apples. It was fun and easy: even the part where my brother casually belittled Caleb’s (and unspoken: mine) music aspirations by referring to how he was in a band once, too, back in the day. . . . That was a good time, man.
    I toast a bagel and busy myself with sending a text about Jet City to the rest of the band. Everybody else replies immediately.
    Val: Cool. . . . Just kidding HOLY SH????T!!!!
    Jon: WHAT. *thud* (sound of me passing out) YAAAAAA!!!
    Matt: NO WAY!!! When are we shooting the jeans commercial?
    I join in the excitement, and try to keep my small worry about how I’ll fit into such record label plans at bay. Labels have their own managers, as I’ve learned all too well in the past. But there’s a world of difference, at least in terms ofreputation, between a cool indie label like JCR and something like Candy Shell. A record deal with someone like this is way more of a partnership, and usually much better for the band. And for me. I’m sure I could be involved.
    Oh, and another huge difference between this time and last time, with Postcards, is that unlike Ethan, Caleb would actually fight for me.
    My phone buzzes again. I’m hoping for Caleb—
    Val: Randy called UPS. There’s only the one box to go with that shipping label. And they can’t find any record of delivering another box here.
    Summer: Weird. So how did it get on the porch?
    Val: Don’t know.
    I’ve just put my phone down when it buzzes again.
    Caleb: Wow, sorry. Just got back from shopping forgot to charge the phone last night.
    Summer: That’s ok silly. Are you ready?
    I tell him . . .
    And he doesn’t reply. I’m about to text and ask if my message went through, when finally:
    Caleb: Wow. Wow wow wow.
    Summer: Yes! Yes?
    Another pause, longer than I expected. And long enough to tell me that he’s hesitant.
    Caleb: Did they hear about us through the article?
    I probably knew that was coming.
    Summer: Yup. But the email is all about Dangerheart.
    Caleb: But it will be a thing.
    Summer: Yes, but I think in a good way. These guys are cool.
    Caleb: I suppose there is no avoiding it.
    I can’t resist poking him a little.
    Summer: You are about to win least-excited band member award. ;) Everybody else freaked out.
    Long pause.
    Caleb: