Read Online Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1) by Jeanne Bogino - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeanne Bogino
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gig. Ever. And I mean never . Understood?”
Shan froze. She stared silently at Quinn for a moment, then found her voice. “So what if I drink or do drugs? I mean, what’s it to you?”
“Nothing.” Quinn shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck what you do on your own time. It’s none of my business. But when we’re gigging, you’re on our time. And you,” he pointed at her again, “are underage. You get caught partying when you’re with us, we get it in the neck.”
“But I’m sure you drink when you play…” she began.
“That’s different. Ty is twenty-six. Dan and I are twenty-five. We’re legal but even so, none of us ever gets fucked up while we’re gigging. That’s another ground rule. It’s unprofessional. And definitely no drugs. I’ve had enough of that bullshit in this band.”
“But—”
“This isn’t open for negotiation,” he informed her. “It’s a condition. Take it or leave it.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Good,” Quinn said curtly. “You remember that. Because if one of us catches you partying at a gig, you’re fired.”
Her temper flared. “Don’t talk down to me. I don’t need to worry about Big Brother watching my every move. I can take care of myself.”
Quinn shrugged. “I’m not questioning that. You seem pretty together for a sixteen-year-old. We wouldn’t take you on otherwise.”
“Almost seventeen,” she corrected him, slightly mollified. He turned away, but not before she saw his grin. She flushed and turned to Ty.
“I’m surprised you’re not all living together,” she remarked, just to change the subject. “It’d be a lot cheaper.”
Quinn turned back. “I told you we’re going to be rolling in dough. Don’t you believe me?” She nodded, but still looked doubtful. “We get top dollar for a bar band. Now you, you’re used to gigging solo and getting the door. The cover’s three or four bucks and you pull maybe a hundred and fifty on a good night?”
“A really good night,” she said ruefully.
Quinn’s smile was openly patronizing. “Well, the cover is seven to ten bucks for Quinntessence, depending on what night of the week it is, and we play a lot bigger venues. A good Friday or Saturday for us is around fifteen hundred. Minus the sound man and split four ways, you’re talking about three or four hundred bucks. Each ,” he emphasized, as Shan’s jaw dropped.
“Yeah, but the door is shit, Quinn, remember?” Ty jeered.
“I’d still rather have a set fee going in, then get anything over a predetermined door take as a bonus. You can get screwed.” Quinn looked back at Shan. “Cat got your tongue, angel?”
“I wasn’t expecting that much money,” she said, shaken. “Do I get a full share?”
They all stared at her in astonishment. “Of course,” Dan said. “Did you think it was slave labor, since we have a resident slave driver?” Quinn gave him the finger, lips twisting sardonically.
“But I’m new,” she said, “and I don’t have as much experience as the rest of you.”
“Better start catching up, then.” Quinn snatched up the coil of cables and tossed it to her. “Time to learn how a big-time rock band sets up.”
Forty-five minutes later he surveyed the loft. Cables crisscrossed the floor and Dan’s drums filled an entire corner. His keyboard had a choice spot in front of the window. “Excellent spot for the Kur,” he said.
Dan grinned. “Better than my kitchen table, hey?”
“You bet,” he agreed and turned to Shan. “This place doesn’t seem so big now, does it?”
Shan pushed an errant curl out of her eyes. Her hands, covered with grime from the cables, left a smear of black across her face. “We do this every time?”
“Yep.” Quinn grimaced. “Then we have to break it all down again at the end of the night. My most immediate career goal is to be able to afford roadies so we won’t have to do it ourselves.”
“I’m used to hauling just a guitar and an
Shan froze. She stared silently at Quinn for a moment, then found her voice. “So what if I drink or do drugs? I mean, what’s it to you?”
“Nothing.” Quinn shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck what you do on your own time. It’s none of my business. But when we’re gigging, you’re on our time. And you,” he pointed at her again, “are underage. You get caught partying when you’re with us, we get it in the neck.”
“But I’m sure you drink when you play…” she began.
“That’s different. Ty is twenty-six. Dan and I are twenty-five. We’re legal but even so, none of us ever gets fucked up while we’re gigging. That’s another ground rule. It’s unprofessional. And definitely no drugs. I’ve had enough of that bullshit in this band.”
“But—”
“This isn’t open for negotiation,” he informed her. “It’s a condition. Take it or leave it.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Good,” Quinn said curtly. “You remember that. Because if one of us catches you partying at a gig, you’re fired.”
Her temper flared. “Don’t talk down to me. I don’t need to worry about Big Brother watching my every move. I can take care of myself.”
Quinn shrugged. “I’m not questioning that. You seem pretty together for a sixteen-year-old. We wouldn’t take you on otherwise.”
“Almost seventeen,” she corrected him, slightly mollified. He turned away, but not before she saw his grin. She flushed and turned to Ty.
“I’m surprised you’re not all living together,” she remarked, just to change the subject. “It’d be a lot cheaper.”
Quinn turned back. “I told you we’re going to be rolling in dough. Don’t you believe me?” She nodded, but still looked doubtful. “We get top dollar for a bar band. Now you, you’re used to gigging solo and getting the door. The cover’s three or four bucks and you pull maybe a hundred and fifty on a good night?”
“A really good night,” she said ruefully.
Quinn’s smile was openly patronizing. “Well, the cover is seven to ten bucks for Quinntessence, depending on what night of the week it is, and we play a lot bigger venues. A good Friday or Saturday for us is around fifteen hundred. Minus the sound man and split four ways, you’re talking about three or four hundred bucks. Each ,” he emphasized, as Shan’s jaw dropped.
“Yeah, but the door is shit, Quinn, remember?” Ty jeered.
“I’d still rather have a set fee going in, then get anything over a predetermined door take as a bonus. You can get screwed.” Quinn looked back at Shan. “Cat got your tongue, angel?”
“I wasn’t expecting that much money,” she said, shaken. “Do I get a full share?”
They all stared at her in astonishment. “Of course,” Dan said. “Did you think it was slave labor, since we have a resident slave driver?” Quinn gave him the finger, lips twisting sardonically.
“But I’m new,” she said, “and I don’t have as much experience as the rest of you.”
“Better start catching up, then.” Quinn snatched up the coil of cables and tossed it to her. “Time to learn how a big-time rock band sets up.”
Forty-five minutes later he surveyed the loft. Cables crisscrossed the floor and Dan’s drums filled an entire corner. His keyboard had a choice spot in front of the window. “Excellent spot for the Kur,” he said.
Dan grinned. “Better than my kitchen table, hey?”
“You bet,” he agreed and turned to Shan. “This place doesn’t seem so big now, does it?”
Shan pushed an errant curl out of her eyes. Her hands, covered with grime from the cables, left a smear of black across her face. “We do this every time?”
“Yep.” Quinn grimaced. “Then we have to break it all down again at the end of the night. My most immediate career goal is to be able to afford roadies so we won’t have to do it ourselves.”
“I’m used to hauling just a guitar and an
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