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“What? You guys thought of me? Thanks!”
The three of them sat in the corner of the sofa, enjoying their sandwiches. There was one left for Leaf, and if he showed up, Tristan would make sure he ate it too.
“Tris,” Andrej said with a mouthful. “Why do I give you a phone if you’re only gonna leave it lying around? I already gave Carol the number so the lawyer can reach you.”
The phone was right in front of Tristan, so he picked it up and glanced briefly at the screen. Indeed, there were a few missed calls and a voicemail. Without saying a word, he placed the phone back down so he couldn’t see the screen.
“You can’t keep avoiding dealing with this,” Andrej said. “About yesterday … I’m not blaming you, but I could’ve had your back better if I had known.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Tristan said calmly. “Who would’ve thought Clint would just drop that story out of nowhere?”
“Well,” José interjected. “It’s Clint.”
“You should lay low on news and social media for a few days. They’re tearing the whole thing apart. But it’s on the list now. No reporter’s gonna touch it again.”
It hurt Tristan that such a list was even necessary. All he wanted was to write songs and engage with people about music and poetry. But instead, the world seemed to prioritize stories about blood-stained children who had endured hours beside their deceased parents, carrying the trauma of their experiences with them.
“Speaking of lists … I have a new setlist.”
“Oh, yeah? Let’s see it then?”
Tristan retrieved a blank sheet of paper from among a few song sheets and listed the songs one below the other with a thick black marker. He then handed the new list to Andrej and José, who studied it. Andrej reacted promptly by raising an eyebrow.
“Seriously?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Andrej repeated.
Now Tristan lifted his eyebrows and peered at José, who was still focused on the list.
“Uh … let’s see,” Andrej said. “You want to start with our hit, our first single. And then you want to—how many are there?—bring four songs that aren’t even on the album?”
Tristan nodded, while José removed off his shoes, laughing as he sat down behind the drums.
“Are you okay with this?”
“Why not?” José replied.
“Come on!” Andrej exclaimed, turning back to Tristan. “You can see it’s totally illogical.”
“You don’t understand,” Tristan replied. “We’re telling stories, and they have certain connections. No one wants the ending at the beginning. This has a concept.”
“Why don’t we introduce more songs from the new album after the first one? It’s too risky otherwise.”
“This is our chance to stand out from all the entertainment noise.”
“Sorry to say this, but that's what we do,” Andrej said, leaning back. “We entertain! Do you think people will grasp this concept? Nobody cares.”
“I’m not concerned about the audience; it’s our mindset on stage that counts.”
Andrej’s expression changed. He bristled and walked toward him with eyes gleaming. “Are you implying that my mindset is wrong? Tristan, watch what you’re saying!”
Tristan was still sitting on the couch, holding Andrej’s gaze. He hadn’t implied anything. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt for the bassist to think about it for a moment.
“Hey!” José called out.
“I can’t believe it!” Andrej snapped. “I don’t need to listen to this!”
