Page 30 of Filthy Beautiful
“You gotta come by and check it out.”
“I will.”
He grinned wider, and I shook my head.
I’d met Trey years ago, when we were just teenagers. Sixteen or something. At the time, I was a major fucking geek who lived and breathed music and even back then, before either of us had amounted to shit in the music scene, I was not cool enough to hang with the Trey Joneses of the world.
I knew this.
So I made it my mission in life to master the drums, make myself indispensable in the music scene in Vancouver.
That, and I kneweveryone.
I made friends with a lot of guys like Trey, because I knew one day, maybe they’d make it, even if I didn’t. And maybe they’d remember me.
By the time we were eighteen, Trey was working security at a lot of gigs I played, and eventually we played together in a local band; that was back when Trey played guitar. He didn’t do that much anymore. Too busy with all his other endeavors, really. He’d never amounted to much as a musical artist.
Instead, he’d migrated out to Toronto, where he did get discovered.
By a modeling scout.
We’d all laughed about that—until we saw him on TV.
The guy made a ton of cash stalking runways and doing broody shit for the camera in wet T-shirts and unbuttoned jeans.
But music was his first love.
That, and making money.
So while I was hustling my way through the Vancouver bar scene, trying to find a decent band to rock out with, Trey was traveling the globe as a model and meeting everyone under the sun. He worked his ass off, making connections, and made his way into talent scouting—in music, not modeling. Then A&R, signing bands for a record label out of Toronto.
Then he opened his own indie record label, Brick House, based in Vancouver.
Then he started putting a lot of his money into real estate, investing. The guy was a brilliant businessman.
Now, Trey Jones was a one man empire. Though, to me, he was just Trey. We’d been workout buddies since way back, when maybe he took pity on the scrawny geek that I was and kinda took me under his athletic wing.
We’d stayed tight over the years, and every time I saw him, seemed like he was even more successful.
It was good to have people like Trey in my life. People who could inspire me, remind me never to settle. And make me feel like a fucking loser whenever I dared drag my heels.
“You sign anyone new lately?” I asked him.
“Yup. This sweet little honey, right out of the prairies. Got a voice like an angel on the verge of an orgasm. She’s gonna go mad viral.”
“Nice.”
“The best part? She’s sixteen. Gotta sign them young, before someone else does.”
“How come no one signed us when we were that young?”
“Because we fucking sucked.”
I laughed.
“Who knows…” he said. “Maybe you and I finally ink a deal. This year gonna be the year we do it, brother?”
“Maybe…”
