Bounce Read Free Page A

fifty-dollar bill into my chest, jarring me awake.
    â€œGet something for Brooks too,” he says, pausing his conversation. “Triple latte.”
    I hop out of the Bugatti and jog into the coffee shop. There’s a small line, so I settle in to wait, folding the bill in my hands. Half and then half again. Smaller and smaller until it won’t fold anymore. I grew up with money. Adam and I have the same entrepreneurial, restaurant- and bar-owning, deal-making dad. I have no desire to start a business, or open a restaurant or a bar, or make a film. Maybe I took after my mom. Who knows? All I know is that I want to sing. I want to make music, pure and simple. Every night, if I can.
    I glance at Adam, idling in the parking spot right outside, drawing looks from everyone in the coffee shop. I also don’t want to be the guy who has to jump out for a coffee he can’t even afford to pay for. Maybe this job thing will be all right.
    I’ll work in the mailroom or something. Keep making coffee runs for my brother. Earn a few bucks during the day, and sing at night.
    I can live with that.
    Adam stays on the phone with Brooks until we’re both walking into his fancy office at the new Blackwood Entertainment studio complex, where Brooks is waiting. They shut off their phones at the same time, preparing to continue their conversation face-to-face. Brooks rises from the leather chair in front of Adam’s desk, takes his coffee, and frowns at me.
    Brooks works a sort of hobo-cool look: clothes a little baggy, hair a little shaggy. Everything is designer label, but slouchy. Adam’s opposite, basically. Though he’s a filmmaker, Brooks looks like he’d be comfortable with a paintbrush in his hand and a cigarette bobbing from the corner of his mouth.
    â€œGotta say I’m surprised to see you here,” he says, shooting a questioning look at Adam.
    â€œHe trashed my place,” my brother explains.
    â€œ I didn’t do it.”
    â€œSo he’s working for me now.”
    â€œOnly until I can pay it off.”
    â€œWhich is going to take months, you realize that.”
    I shrug, knowing I’ll be able to pay him back faster. Welkin will have a record deal come April. A month, tops, and I’ll be out of here.
    Brooks looks from me to Adam, his grin going wider. “This is going to be entertaining.” He narrows his eyes, peering at me. “What did you do to your head?”
    I pull the cap off, showing him my Sharpied, shaved head.
    â€œNice.” Brooks lets out a boom of laughter. “Must’ve been some night.”
    â€œStill nothing?” Adam slides behind his desk, slipping back in work mode.
    In the elevator up here, while Brooks was apparently answering another call, Adam told me they have a crisis to solve. Some kind of audition or casting problem that he and Brooks needed to fix ASAP before he can get me set up. I sit and prepare to wait it out.
    â€œHis agent finally called. He’s not going to make it,” Brooks says, dropping into the other chair. “He was doing some intensive spa treatments. It’s his typical M.O. when he gets ready for a new project. I guess he tried a deep-tissue massage and got a crick in his neck.”
    I cross my arms. “Is ‘crick’ an actual word? Like in the dictionary?”
    â€œYeah, it’s an actual word,” Brooks says. “And it’s also the reason we’re down a leading man for the day.”
    Adam sighs. “That’s a hell of an expensive crick. We have a studio full of potential leading women in Studio B.”
    I slide out of my chair, because I have got to see this.
    â€œGrey,” Adam says.
    I slide back.
    â€œThere’s only one option that I can see,” he continues. “We’ll burn too much money and time if we don’t go through with the audition. We need to find someone else to read his part for the day.”
    â€œAgreed.”