if you need anything."
"I will. Probably sooner than you think."
He laughed. "That sounds like classic Ellie scheming to me, I can't wait."
"You know it. What's the second thing?"
"I'm proud of you."
Those words hurt and soothed in a way I thought impossible, and I resolved to carry them with me through whatever would come next. Steven was my family, and we'd been torn apart, but hadn't broken. That meant everything.
*
The next morning I was exhausted, inhaling coffee like it was water, as I stood in the middle of the room I'd set up. Cameras and lights were set, the white backdrop and chair perfectly placed. After a long night of actual work, it was time to make my plan a reality, and it was all on me.
What I wanted to do here was well past the surface gossip and silly stuff I'd gotten used to producing. Diving into the history and heart of this band was deep and important to get right. As much as I wanted to do it, I was still terrified to step out of my comfort zone. If I couldn't make what was in my head translate on screen, I will have wasted a lot of time, and not just my own. But it was worth the risk to do something more. To be something more.
After taking a few deep breaths, I looked down at my list of questions and went to stand behind the camera.
From the chair, Joe smiled. "We ready to get started?"
"Yes. Do you need anything before we begin?"
"Nope."
"Okay," I said, pressing to start the recording. "Joe Hawk, session one," I muttered so the mic could catch it. I sat down on the stool behind the tripod. "Joe, tell me about one of your earliest memories with the band."
He flashed a crooked grin and thought for a moment. Then he began to speak.
Three
Joe was hungry, hungover, and needed a shower. He stumbled out of the back of the van, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight that mocked him. "Where are we?"
Ryan stood with his arms crossed, frowning. "Does it matter?"
Joe rolled his eyes at the band's new manager, and shrugged. "Guess not. How much time do we have?"
"Half an hour. Get inside, clean yourself up, I'll check on the food situation."
"All right." He was about to thank Ryan, but the older man was already gone around the corner of the vehicle. Joe turned around and poked the sleeping lump still inside. "Get up, shithead."
The lump groaned and a hand appeared. "Beer. Now."
"There's beer in the club." And hopefully a shower, he added to himself.
The lump rose and Dex's face appeared, bleary-eyed. "D'you reckon?"
"Of course. That's why we're paying this guy a percentage, right? Get us gigs and keep the booze flowing."
"Indeed." He climbed down and shoved a pair of sunglasses on. "Fuck the daytime."
Joe laughed. "Come on, let's get inside before Rick drinks all the beer."
They walked into the club, let in by a girl wearing a lot of eyeliner and a very small dress.
As they passed, Dex smiled at her. "All right, darling?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't even bother trying, asshole."
Joe dragged his friend inside and they made their way through the club. "Nice girl."
Dex nodded. "I thought being a musician was supposed to make girls fall all over us. Isn't that why we're doing this job?"
"No, we're doing it because we suck at everything else. But I told you, you gotta forget the girls who work in the clubs, man. They've seen it all."
Dex slung his arm over Joe's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Is an army of adoring groupies too much to ask?"
"Apparently." Joe smiled. "Besides, what does it matter? We'll be in some other city a hundred miles down the coast tomorrow."
"Even better. I'm looking for fun, not a wife, mate." Dex faked a shudder.
"One day a girl is going to knock you on your ass, turn you into her bitch, and I'm gonna love it."
"Don't hold your breath on that one," Dex said. "You're the sap, not me. There's no girl on this planet that amazing."
A guy in a t-shirt bearing the club's name pointed them to their dressing room. Inside, Rick and Matthew were tossing items from a