“Well he got an advance,” I explained. “But he has to pay for everything out of it. Making the album, promotion, marketing, the tour, making the music video. All of that comes out of his advance.”
“They should call it leftovers, not an advance.”
“That’s more accurate.” I laughed. “Plus he still has to pay his manager. He gets twenty percent. And there’s his publicist. I don’t know how much she gets. But when everyone else is paid, then Dale gets a quarter of what’s left.”
“A quarter?”
“There are three other band members in Black Diamond.”
“Oh right.” Josh sighed. “Man, I thought rock stars were millionaires!”
“I guess you have to be doing it longer—and sell more.”
“Number one is pretty good!”
“It’s awesome,” I agreed. “But the way the world works, somehow it’s always the artist who gets shafted. They’re the ones doing the work—authors write books, musicians write and sing songs, artists paint paintings—but everyone else gets the bulk of the money. It’s kind of backwards if you ask me. Because without Dale—there’s nothing for all these people to sell.”
“Yeah but what if he sucks? I mean, obviously he doesn’t. But what if the record company takes a chance and no one buys the album or goes to the concert?”
“Then no one makes any money. I think it’s kind of a balancing act,” I explained. “They’ll have some artists who take off like a rocket and sell millions and some that fall flat. The ones who sell millions make up for the ones who don’t.”
“So do you think you’ll go?”
“On tour?” I shrugged. “I really don’t know yet.”
“I guess having a rock star boyfriend is kind of like being a military wife. My uncle was in the military and he got deployed for months at a time. My aunt didn’t even know where he was.”
“Well I guess that’s something.,” I said. “At least I don’t have to worry about him getting shot at.”
“There’s looking at the bright side.” He grinned. “Hey, are you doing anything after work? I’m starving, I was going to head over to Connie’s Diner and get a bite. You want to come?”
“Sorry, I can’t.” I shook my head. “I have to get home.”
“Oh right, rock star waiting and all.”
“John will have dinner waiting.” I smiled. “Have a good night, Josh!”
* * * *
Pavlov would have been proud. My stomach growled the minute I pulled up to the townhouse and smelled John’s spaghetti cooking. I looked around furtively before getting out of the car but didn’t see anything unusual. There were no reporters with cameras surrounding the house. Maybe we would all be able to go on with our lives after all. People would forget about the pictures and the article, the one with the headline, “Diamond Rocker Back Together With Girlfriend?”
I had hoped they wouldn’t print my name but it was there, in black and white. Sara Wilson
“I’m home!” I announced, kicking off my shoes and dropping my purse near the door. The house was redolent with the smell of John’s spaghetti sauce. I glanced into the kitchen and saw garlic bread waiting to go into the oven. The table was set. Where was everybody?
“John?” I called, stopping near his bedroom door. It was closed.
“I’m on the phone!” His voice was muffled through the door. “Be out in a few! Would you stir the sauce for me?”
I did what he asked, taking a spoonful as payment of course—and rather than thanking me, my stomach growled in protest—more, more! Halfway up the stairs, I heard the sweet sound of Dale’s guitar. My heart lifted in my chest and I bounded up the other half, throwing our door open and leaping at him.
“Hey!” He barely had time to put his guitar aside before I tackled him, covering his face with kisses as we rolled on the bed. “Wow. I always wanted to get a dog so I could be greeted like that, but I think I like this much better.”
“Woof.” I panted like a dog and he laughed, sliding his hand behind my neck so he could pull me down for a real kiss. His mouth was soft and open and he tasted like honey. He had started sucking on Ricola cough drops to soothe his throat. Singers needed a lot of those, apparently. I just knew their Ricola commercial with the three Swiss leprechaun-looking fellows annoyed me to no end.
“You taste like dinner.” He smiled rolling so we could be side by side. “Is it ready?”
“I hope so. I’m starving.”