Leaving Amarillo(34)
There’s excessive warmth in her tone and it’s a little unsettling, but her smile is genuine. I have a nagging sensation of female intuition trying to alert me to something, but I have no idea what.
Mandy’s eyes might linger on Dallas a little longer than they do on Gavin or me, but I assume that’s from their established familiarity. And in a way, if she’s interested in either of the guys, I’d prefer it be Dallas anyway. Gavin’s groupies are one thing, but working with a manager who was attracted to him would be my worst nightmare.
Before I can analyze the situation any further, a waiter appears and takes our order. I haven’t even looked at the menu so I just ask for whatever pasta they have and a water. Gavin gets a burger and so does Dallas. Mandy orders a salad.
Once we’re alone again Mandy asks about the details of our story, how we came to be a band and how the guys managed when I was at school in Houston.
“They called me crying a lot and begging me to come home,” I say with mock seriousness.
“We mostly just played shows where we could meet halfway between Houston and Amarillo when Dixie wasn’t too swamped with school,” Dallas tells her with an eye roll in my direction. “Gavin and I played a few local shows on our own.”
“And you’re prepared to give up a prestigious scholarship for this? For life on the road with these two?” Mandy looks almost confused by this.
I nod without hesitation. “I realize that a career with a nationally recognized orchestra is a dream for a lot of people. It’s just not mine. I didn’t belong there.” The last part sort of snuck out of me and I feel embarrassed by revealing so much, but Mandy nods as if taking it all in thoughtfully.
After that she inquires about our social media presence, what bands we’ve opened for, and other managers we’ve previously spoken with. Social media management is my department, my contribution to the band. I keep our pages up to date and post pictures on our blog. We actually have a surprising number of followers.
Our food arrives and the conversation is temporarily halted. My nerves are too tightly wound in my stomach to enjoy eating.
Mandy is the picture of sleek sophistication and while I can’t tell yet how she feels about me, I feel certain that all of my hopes and dreams are pinned on her. Whether or not she signs us will determine what my plans are come fall. I’m slightly tempted to throw myself at her feet and beg if that’s what it takes to seal the deal, but that probably isn’t the best strategy. So I eat quietly and nod and smile each time she shares information with us about how she’s helped her clients’ careers.
Once we’re finished eating and the plates have been cleared, Dallas leans toward us. “Mandy has the same vision for our future that I do. Y’all have always trusted me to make these types of decisions and she knows of an opening in a major showcase that she can get us into the day after this festival. If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll know. But I think we should give her a chance to show us what she can do for the band.”
I take a deep breath and let my eyes slide briefly over to Gavin before returning to my brother’s expectant stare.
“I trust you, Dallas,” I tell him quietly. I do trust him, and I think he is capable of making good decisions for the band. But I’m about to do something behind his back that he isn’t going to like at all. And then we are going to play our very first showcase the very next day. “If you think this is what’s best then I’m in.”
Mandy smiles brightly at me and I return the gesture.
“Me, too,” Gavin says, side-eyeing me. “But I’d rather not sign anything until after the showcase. Let’s see what happens; if we get some interest, we can have Mandy help us out if she’s still on board after our performance.”
“I will be,” Mandy pipes up. “And the issue won’t be whether or not you get any interest, it will be trying to sort through the many offers coming your way.”
The budding sprout of hope grows to a full bloom at the confidence shining in her eyes.
Goodbye, orchestra pit.
Mandy accompanies us to Sixth Street and hangs around while we warm up. Once we’re ready, we play to a decent-sized crowd outside one of the most popular bars on Sixth Street. I’m able to glance backward a few times and watch Gavin play, his beautifully inked body bathed in the blue of neon lights from the surrounding signs as he takes out his aggression on his kit.
My brother is wholeheartedly giving this show his all, strutting around the stage like an overly confident peacock. I have a feeling the extra ass shaking and crowd eye-screwing has to do with the woman in the front row, but I’ll be keeping my opinions to myself. Opportunity has knocked and thy name is Mandy.
I let go of my fears about not being enough for Gavin, sweep aside my concerns about whether or not we’ll end up signing with Mandy Lantram, and ignore my brother’s strutting across the stage, and just play. I am the music.
None of that matters as I stroke my bow across the strings. All that matters in this moment is the melody, this experience we’re creating.
When it’s over, we bow to applause and wish the audience a good night. I follow my brother offstage and we make our way to where Mandy is standing texting on her phone.
“Great news,” she says once we’ve stepped far enough from where the next band has taken the stage and begun to play. “The Indie Music Review is doing a human interest piece on bands playing in the festival. A reporter will be by to interview the three of you tomorrow.”