Chapter Text
Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day off. He’d gotten in from the bar around 4am, and he was looking forward to sleeping in. He’d even specifically turned off his alarm clock. With all this in mind, he could not understand why he could hear some kind of obnoxious noise coming from his bedside table. Plus, something was poking the side of his head. Groaning, he raised his head from the pillow. Great. He’d fallen asleep on his drumsticks again. His fucking phone was buzzing like it had a freaking bee infestation. He checked the caller ID through bleary eyes. Geoff. He was probably calling to get Michael to open the bar to take in a delivery or something. He seriously debated just ignoring the call and going back to sleep, but Geoff had been good to him. He’d given him a full time job bartending when shit had looked hopeless. Hell, he’d even thrown the apartment above the bar in for reduced rates. Geoff had even been surprised that Michael had been grateful.
“I don’t need it man.” Geoff had shrugged. “It’s kind of a tiny shithole, and we need to move into a bigger house anyways.”
He owed a lot to the guy. If he was honest, he loved his job. Geoff’s bar was pretty amazing. His main thing was live music. He normally invited local unsigned bands from around the area to play. If he saw potential, he’d book you to play a few times a week, and the labels around Texas had quickly picked up on the fact that Hunter’s always had good, unsigned acts. It was crazy busy most nights, with different bands attracting different crowds each time they played, and of course, there were always those who were there to get drunk and have a good time. It had been a busy night last night with some crappy rock band playing. The band had gotten drunk beforehand and had sucked. They’d stormed off halfway through the set, talking some bullshit about how they hadn’t been soundchecked properly. Clearly bullshit. The sound guys - both called Adam - knew what they were doing. The people there to hear the band had kicked off. Things had gotten ugly. Michael’s co-worker, a huge man called Jack had been forced to act as temporary bouncer. Even Michael had taken a few blows that he was definitely feeling today. Geoff had been pissed. He’d told the band they wouldn’t’ be playing at Hunter’s again. Kinda a problem when they’d been booked in for the next week. He’d probably have to answer his boss and face the music. Didn’t mean he’d have to be happy about it.
“H’lo?” he grumbled, face smooshed back into the pillow.
“Michael, hey. It’s Geoff. I need you to work tonight. And start earlier if you can.” Geoff wasn’t really asking. It was more a statement of intent.
“Let me get this straight. You call me at…” Michael glanced at his alarm clock. “11am after you know I got in at 4, on my day off, to ask me if I can work earlier?”
“Michael, you know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t desperate. Jack’s called in. He thinks he’s sprained his wrist after his whole Hercules thing last night throwing people about. We can’t just have Lindsay on the bar tonight. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“What about Ryan?” Michael muttered. His day of sleeping and playing was looking less and less likely.
“He’s up to the usual suspicious bullshit. Keeps talking about fucking cows. He can’t work.” Geoff sensed Michael softening and went for the killer blow. “I’ll let you play drums after close?”
Michael groaned. That goddamned beautiful drum kit Geoff had invested after it became obvious that most bands either used some bullshit preset on their keys or a drum machine. Normally, Michael or one of the other guys were proficient enough to accompany the band if they needed it. Down in the bar, he could play as loudly as he wanted, without having to worry about neighbour complaints. He glanced across at his pride and joy, a cherry red drum kit. He’d spent a fucking fortune on it and the acoustic guitar sitting next to it. He hardly ever played it as well. Unsurpirsingly, neighbours didn’t appreciate it when you kept weird times, and practiced only late at night, into the early morning. Looked like he’d have to wait another day to get some proper writing done. The drumkit downstairs was calling to him.
“Fine. But you owe me.” Michael grunted. “What time do you need me in for?”
“Well, the bar opens at 3, which is when Lindsay starts. I’ve got a new band playing tonight, some kinda indie shit. I’ll need you in to show them the ropes, help them set up.”
“An indie band? Goddamnit Geoff you know that shit isn’t what people are looking for here.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault somebody with access to the bar last night had a crush on the singer of the band I had pencilled in. Not my fault that they kept giving them alcohol. Not my fault my best bartender has such low fucking self-esteem that they don’t believe that someone could be interested in them sober.”
Michael winced. “You knew about that huh? Sorry Geoff. You know I can’t resist the musicians.” He said. Geoff snorted in derision. “Guy was a fucking lightweight anyway. He was smashed after, like, two beers. Didn’t even put out.”
Ok. So the minor riot last night may have been his fault. In Michael’s mind, getting drunk and having one night stands with the people from the bands was just a bonus to being a bartender. That slick system had gone slightly awry last night. The singer, God he couldn’t even remember his name, had ranted and raved to Michael about how awful the acoustics were in the bar, until Michael couldn’t stand it anymore and had snapped at the guy to shut up. It escalated pretty quickly from there, with the two hurling abuse at each other until Jack had stepped in, getting clocked for his troubles.
Then of course, Michael went, as Lindsay would put it, “New Jersey on his ass.” He’d blackened the pretty singer’s pretty blue eyes. Shit kicked off and soon descended into a full scale bar brawl. Nothing that they couldn’t handle of course, but Michael had spent the better part of the night clearing up broken glass and feeling sorry for himself.
Geoff sighed deeply over the phone.
“Michael, dude, you’ve gotta stop doing this. Trying to sleep with as many musicians as possible isn’t healthy.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Geoff was probably right. “I know.” He muttered, running his hand through his unruly curls and sitting up. Not like he was gonna get back to sleep anyway and he needed to get food for the rest of the week before he went to work.
“Look, Michael. Just promise me you won’t try anything with this band okay? They’re pretty up and coming. They’ve already got a record deal with Roosterteeth. I had to call in about a million favours from Burnie to get him to agree to let them play. I had to agree to some bullshit ‘exclusivity’ thing. They’re playing 6 nights a week for the next month. I can’t have anyone else playing at the bar during that time. You fucking one of them on the first night would make it pretty awkward.”
“A FUCKING MONTH GEOFF? Are you kidding me?” Michael stuck Geoff on speakerphone as he rolled out of bed, sitting the phone on his bedside table.
“Nope. Burnie think’s it’ll be good to have the band actually working together constantly. He thinks it’ll ‘hone their craft’ or something.’” Geoff’s voice echoed from the table as Michael pulled on yesterday’s jeans. They were probably good for another day without washing right? He couldn’t really afford to be wasting washing powder. “They’re a bunch of guys who started playing in their garage together, and somehow managed to get a record deal without playing a single crowd. They’re not so hot on the whole live performance side of things.”
“And you think having them play every night for four weeks will get them that?” He’d seen this before. Some bands were good at the whole songwriting thing, but as soon as they got in front of a crowd, they froze. One of the first bands he’d seen working with Geoff had had this super cool confident chick as their frontwoman. . Michael had worshipped her from the first moment he’d seen her. There had been a lot of hype about her in particular. She had laughing eyes, with this amazing Irish accent and flame red hair. She was apparently extremely talented, not that he’d ever heard her sing. It had all fallen apart as soon as her band had gotten up in front of the crowd. The drummer lost the beat, the guitarist had forgotten his chords, and she’d stared at the cheering crowd in front of her with fear in her eyes. She’d frozen up. That night, they’d slept together, both desperate, clutching each other like it was the last time they’d ever see the other again. It had been. The next day, he woke up and she was already on a flight to Los Angeles. He heard she was a session musician now, writing songs on the side.
“Hey man, it worked for the Beatles.” Geoff’s voice drew Michael out of his reminiscing.
“… Geoff, please tell me you are not comparing one of the greatest bands in the world to some bullshit Indie band from Texas?”
“Actually….”
“What?”
“Two of them are from Britain. They’re best friends. Apparently they moved over here because they figured it would be easier to stand out with British accents, and British influences. They met the other guy later.”
Michael snorted derisively. “Well, they sound like fucking idiots who have no idea how the real world works.”
He could almost hear Geoff’s shrug. “I haven’t actually heard them yet. I’m taking Burnie’s word for it. We’re both benefiting. He gets them the experience; I get me a guaranteed band for a whole month. Like a house band or something. Could be good for business.”
Michael was in the kitchen now. He opened the fridge. Nothing except milk and butter. Toast and coffee it was. “Look Geoff, as much as I’d love to chat about how much of a fucking idiot you are for signing a band for a month, without even hearing them play, I really need to go grocery shopping.”
“Sure dude. I’ll see you tonight. Good luck with the band. Oh, and try and buy something green and healthy for once.” With those words of wisdom, Geoff hung up. Michael rolled his eyes. He’d worked at ‘Hunter’s’ for nearly 5 years now, after being hired by Geoff when he was 19 years and running as far across America as he could. He was kind of an expert in live music now. And hiring some English guys without even hearing them? Stupidest thing he’d ever heard. He downed the last of his coffee, wincing as it scalded his tongue, and grabbed his jacket. He checked his wallet. The majority of his pay check went to his rent. Geoff probably wouldn’t want him to, but he’d cover the cost of the broken glasses from last night as well. That left him with… not as much as he would have hoped. Looked like he’d have to skip the green stuff. Healthy shit was expensive. Geoff would probably invite him round for dinner one night, which would have to be his vegetable intake for the week. He could probably persuade Lindsay to give him an apple tonight if he looked sad enough. She always seemed to bring two anyway. He’d see what the store could offer him first before he went scrounging though. He’d learned how to get by on a little from a pretty young age anyway.