while.”
They moved over to a few tables that had been pushed toward the back of the bar and sat down. A waitress walked up to take their drink orders. When she left, Tim turned to Greg. “This place is too small for his voice. Just imagine what he’d sound like in the studio or a real concert hall.”
“I was already thinking that,” Greg said.
The waitress returned and deposited their drinks. Evan took his bottle of Guinness and lifted it to his lips, his eyes never leaving the stage.
A tendril of concern snaked its way into Greg’s chest as he watched him stare at Jesse. “You said you haven’t met him or any of the band members yet, is that right, Evan?”
Evan nodded.
Tim leaned across the table and slapped Evan on the arm. “So Greg told me you just bought a house. I bet it’s some amazing place with what you can afford.”
Evan slowly turned his head, locking his eyes on Tim in a silent stare.
Tim shifted back in his chair as if the cold look in Evan’s eyes had physically pushed him. “It’s, uh, great that you’re back. The charts haven’t been the same without you. When do you plan on hitting the studio?”
“I didn’t come back to record.” Evan turned back to the stage. “And the charts are fine. It’s Phoenix that looks to be in trouble.”
His voice on edge, Tim said, “Where’d you hear that?” Evan whipped his head around. “Just because I’ve been out country hopping for the past few years doesn’t mean I’m fucking clueless.”
Greg leaped to intercept Evan’s rising anger. “I’m not going to lie, it’s been rough. A few months after you left, George decided to sell the label, and it went downhill fast. The investment group who bought it brought in all new staff, and just like that, businessmen instead of people who love music were running Phoenix. They were out for the quick buck, and had all the A&R reps searching for the next great one hit wonders. The goal was to pump out fast albums, then let the bands go and bring in the next round. Quantity over quality. Going against everything Phoenix always stood for.
“It didn’t take long before the pile of bills was higher than the checks. The label went up for sale again, and George bought it back. Part of the reason he sold it in the first place was he wanted to be closer to and spend more time with his daughter and grandkids who live here, but seeing all he had worked for on the edge of destruction hurt too much, so he decided why not bring the label here also, but it hasn’t been easy. We still have our name, and most people remember our reputation from when we were contenders, but that’s about the best thing we got going right now. That, and of course, still having you. The sales from your albums are about the only thing keeping us going. The damn things keep selling after all this time. It’s amazing.”
Evan didn’t bother looking at Greg, knowing he was trying to justify again why he had re-released his album without his permission. Not willing to let business darken his mood, he kept his eyes on Jesse and watched the sensual way he drew his fingers down his chest as he sang, how he smoothly rolled his hips in time with the beat.
Evan’s rapt expression caused worry to fire in Greg’s chest again. “Evan, I’m already forming an opinion of this Jesse, but you’re the one who brought me here to see him, so I’d like to hear your full view on him and the band.”
Evan forced his attention away from Jesse and looked at Greg. “Well, this is my fourth time seeing him, and I can tell you, he puts everything he’s got into every performance. And that voice, he can really belt it out. The guitarist is pretty awesome the way he always manages to pull such clear, sharp sounds out of his instrument even in a place where the acoustics are bad, like here. I’ve seen him play a Les Paul, but the Strat seems to be his weapon of choice. And Jesse,” he tipped his beer toward Jesse, “knows how to work a
Learning to Kill: Stories