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unnamed emotions grappling at his very soul. A few yards away, Flip was talking to Javier at the bar. The guys were laughing and carrying on, oblivious to what the hell was transpiring. He felt as if he’d let them down, turned coat, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.
    He looked around the stage, and the other band members were busy putting away their equipment and talking to scantily clad hos, not even seeming to notice that a man, dressed like some fucker from ‘Men in Black’, was on the damn stage, hamming it up with him and offering a piece of golden pie on a platinum platter.
    “Just, you…” the man repeated, driving the point home.
    “Oh…”
    “Is that a problem?”
    “Uh, I just thought, I mean, we sound good together. I sound different apart from them.”
    “I beg to differ. You’re a talent all on your own. Again, is there a problem, Mr. Taylor? They’re very interested in you. I can’t stress that enough.”
    “I guess… not. I just thought you were interested in all of us.” Zenith shrugged. “I mean, we work as a team. This is just… a bit surprising I suppose.”
    “I believe all of you are talented, Mr. Taylor, but you…” He shook his finger in his direction. “You are a phenomenon. Pop Evil only needs a drummer and honestly, if you want my unbiased opinion, you’re the glue to this band. You keep their sound pure and rolling. ‘Pure’ is the perfect name for this crew as long as you’re in it. Usually, it’s the head vocalist, or the guitarist, but not in this case. Do you realize how many people talk about you—and by you, I mean you specifically? Do you understand what is being said about you online?”
    Zenith looked at him curiously, dumbfounded. “Honestly, Mr. Herschel, I don’t pay attention to all of that stuff that much. I’m not really into Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and FaceBook. I mean, I have an account and I check it out every now and again. I have to. Plus, I like to check out my favorite bands on there but I’m so busy with work and some other stuff I got going on that I just don’t have much time to be online. Besides, we have someone that takes care of our marketing for us.”
    …It’s Javier. I guess he’s doing a decent enough job.
    “I see.” The man seemed slightly disappointed in his lack of know. “Mr. Taylor, I have a homework assignment for you. I highly suggest you Google yourself as soon as you get home. I also recommend you give yourself way more credit than you have been. With all due respect, you’re clueless. There are people that are talking about you, noticing that you’re a goldmine of aptitude. You’re one of the best drummers I’ve seen in the last ten years, and I’ve seen my share. You are by far in the top five. You can handle complex compositions and are able to mimic just about any sound and technique of the classics. It’s almost like watching ventriloquism, but for drums… it’s amazing.
    Shit. That’s what I say about Javier all the time…
    “I also noticed you have your own unique style when you showcase your talent, and it is just as incredible.”
    “Wow… thank you.”
    “I’m only speaking the truth. I’m not trying to butter you up or kiss your ass; these are just the facts and you need to know them. Look, Pop Evil wants you. Period. Here’s my card.” He handed him a laminated black and white business card with his name, contact details, and the Pop Evil website written in small letters at the bottom. “I’m going to contact you tomorrow afternoon, let you sleep off your hangover a bit.” He smiled sympathetically for what was surely to come. “When I call you, be prepared to speak to Leigh Kakaty.”
    “What?! Are you serious?” He let out a short, incredulous laugh.
    “Of course I am. The lead singer wants to talk to you as soon as possible. I’ll get you on three-way.” The man pulled out his phone. “What’s the best number to reach you at?”
    “My cell… it’s