"What?" Matt asked, his face reddening.
"You pussed out in there," Jake said. "We agreed beforehand - twenty percent. Do you remember that conversation?"
"Yes, but—"
"Ain't no fuckin' 'but' about it," Jake cut in. "You folded. Shaver brought us in there, made a big show of how rich and powerful he was, how small and meaningless we are... and then he tried to screw us. And you caved, man. You caved. I've never seen you do that before. I did what I did because you didn't have the guts to."
"Hey, fuck you!" Matt snapped, fury boiling over. He shot to his feet so fast his chair clattered over behind him. He jabbed a finger toward Jake's chest. "I'm the founder of this band. I'm in charge. I don't give a shit what you think about my decisions. I make the calls, and you will support them!"
Jake didn't flinch. He kept his voice calm. "Or what, Matt? You gonna kick my ass? Gonna pull a Hathaway on me? Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better. I won't even fight back. Course, I might not be able to go on stage if I'm all bruised up, but maybe you and the rest of the boys can pull off the gig without me."
"Don't you fuckin' play that card with me, Jake!"
"Then get the fuck out of my face. Sit down and talk like the professionals we pretend to be. Like I told Darren, this isn't high school. The guy who can punch harder doesn't win here."
Matt froze, visibly wrestling with himself. Jake honestly thought for a second the punch was coming, but then Matt stepped back. He picked up his chair, sat down, and exhaled slowly.
"Okay," he said, voice low. "You're right. I'm sorry I lost my temper."
"And I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of everyone," Jake said. "That wasn't my goal. I did what I thought had to be done. Shaver tried to screw us, Matt. And I didn't want to start off my music career by being played. We agreed we'd stick to our guns on twenty percent. You're the one who folded without a fight. Why? Why didn't you back me?"
Matt grimaced. He took a drag from his smoke, then crushed it out hard. "I thought we'd lose him if we pushed. It felt like he was looking for an excuse to kick us."
"But he didn't," Jake said. "He caved. Sure, he got his little one percent above standard so he could save face. But he caved. Just like I thought he would."
Matt frowned. "How'd you know?"
"Deductive reasoning," Jake said. "Stuff didn't add up. Think about it—he said he was in Heritage on business and just happened to see our gig listed in the paper. But what kind of business does a music agent have in Heritage?"
Matt blinked. "I... I don't know."
"There's no music industry here. No studios. No touring acts. No labels. No one to scout. The only reason for him to be here is us."
"You're saying he came just for us?"
Jake nodded. "That's the only thing that makes sense. This whole thing - the way everything unfolded - it felt staged. Like a setup. The limo driver was the giveaway. No way he treats us like trash unless he was told to."
Matt nodded slowly. "He was eating a sandwich in the car."
"And on the way back he was nice as hell. Opened doors. Called us 'sir.' That wasn't an attitude change. That was planned."
"I dunno, man. You're starting to sound a little like Coop."
Jake gave a small grin. "Maybe. But sometimes the paranoid ones are right. Like that phone call with 'Gary' when we first arrived. I don't think he was talking to anyone."
Matt blinked. "What?"
"When he called the front desk later for the contract copies, I could hear the clerk's voice faintly. Couldn't make out the words, but he was there. But during that 'Gary' call? Nothing. Not a single peep."
"Why fake it?"
"Intimidation. He wanted us to feel like his time was precious. Like he was doing us a favor just by letting us sit in the room. That's why he threw out the thirty percent like it was no big deal."
"Shit..." Matt ran a hand through his hair, anger fading into wonder.
"He gave us booze and coke right away. That wasn't hospitality. That was strategy. Lower our defenses."
"Well it worked," Matt muttered. "That was some damn good coke."
"Yeah. Too good. That was to loosen us up. But it backfired on him. That coke? It made me bold. Made me think. If I'd been sober, I probably would've gone along with it."
Matt was quiet, letting the pieces fall into place.
"You know what the real kicker is?" Jake asked.
"What?"
"The studio time. He doesn't have contacts in that area. That studio doesn't owe him a favor. There's no reason they'd give up $2700 worth of time just because he asked."
"So?"
"So he paid for it himself. That's how bad he wants us. That's how sure he is we'll succeed. He heard that demo, read your resume, saw us play live... and he knows we've got it. He would've settled for ten percent if we'd pushed. But he tried to grab more."
Matt sat in silence, letting it all soak in.
"Look, man," Jake said. "I'm not trying to take over this band. I don't want to be in charge. That's your job. But I am a part of this. You said it yourself last night. I'll let you lead, no problem. But if you're steering us toward a cliff, I'm gonna say something. If we butt heads, we butt heads. This is my life too. My future. You dig?"
Matt's expression shifted through several stages—anger, frustration, realization—before he finally nodded.
"Yeah. I guess I dig."
Jake held out a hand. "Still friends?"
Matt scoffed. "Like I'd ever be friends with a dick smoker like you," he said, slapping his hand down.
They shook on it.
Then they went back up to the house, and just in time. There was still a little of the joint left that Darren had rolled, and it was just enough to put them into full celebratory mode.