04: Failure's Not Flattering

"I don't know what's worse; trying to control McFly when they're suffering from jet lag or trying to control McFly band when they're well rested."

Jake laughed quietly as to not disturb the other diners in the hotel restaurant as Fletch lowered himself into the chair situated across the table from himself. He set his phone face down on the table, giving his friend, and fellow manager, his full attention.

"Hopefully," Fletch said with a sigh, rapping his knuckles on the table, "they'll stay in the room this time. I don't think the staff want to be pulled into a game of hide and seek this late at night."

"Even you have to admit, the places they can wedge themselves into is pretty impressive," Jake said.

Fletch snorted, before relaxing into a hint of a smile. "Are you talking in general or musically?" he asked. Jake grinned.

Sometimes, it was hard for himself to believe just how successful McFly had become. They had appeared in the business and right from the start had the run of their own show. And the fans followed them. Not that many people could say the same thing. Or even be able to continue creating music after releasing two studio albums. The music industry nowadays was so fickle. All the attention could be put on a debut album, and there would be success there, and the next thing you knew, bands were putting out EPs.

And there were a lot of reasons for it. Initial record contracts didn't work out the way an artist wanted. An artist wanted to take the time to hone their craft by working on a fewer number of things than everything at once. It was cheaper. Artists had more control. It came with less pressure. There were so many answers and reasons why, but the industry didn't wait for the answers. Or, excuses, as they may have seen it.

Big executives were always looking for the "next big thing." That next wave on the horizon. The wave they could ride and carve out of it as much as they could. Sometimes, it paid to be patient and stick things out with what you knew worked best. After all, Rihanna had a couple of hit singles before she exploded on the scene with her third album.

Even then, Jake wondered just how patient he could be. McFly were a great band. It was only a matter of time before the world over recognized it. And he was determined to make that time now.

"How's Katy doing?" Fletch asked.

"Hopefully making it through her shift at the bowling alley," Jake said, twisting his arm to glance at his watch. "If she's lucky, the after work and dinner rush isn't too bad." He then settled back in his chair. "She's doing really well. Enjoying school. She's started her own YouTube channel for makeup tutorials. I'm telling you, whatever she wants to do, she'll be able to do it." He shook his head back and forth, letting out a sigh. "It's so weird, though. Like, I can still picture her at five years old. Sometimes, I wonder how she grew up so much."

"You and your Aunt Martha have done a great job," Fletch said. He reached for his glass of ice water and spun the contents around before taking a sip. "And Ashley? How's she doing?"

"Good." Jake nodded. "She's good. We're good. Still surviving those bouts of bad luck every now and then." He sucked his lips into his mouth. "Really gearing up for the Masquerade Party, so she's been a tad bit on edge. But, it's good."

"Mmm." Fletch gave a knowing nod. "I can see where you're coming from. Dougie's usually the easiest one to handle. He just kind of goes along with everyone else." He paused. "Which makes him the hardest to handle once they all get riled up. I mean, he never sits still, but when he's anxious, he never sits still."

The two men looked at the waiter as he stepped over to the table. Jake grabbed the menu he had set aside to remind himself of his choice. Then, he handed it over to Fletch who quickly flipped through it.

"I'd like the Old Bay shrimp and the lamb chops, please," Jake said, "and the Conde Villar Rose, wine."

"And I'll have the filet, the lump crab salad, and the Charter Punch," Fletch said with a smile of thanks. The waiter nodded as he scribbled down their order, took their menu, and left to start the cook prepping their meals.

"I think we have a big thing on our hands, ok?" Jake said, pressing his hands together, the second the waiter had walked away. Fletch angled his eyebrows towards each other and nodded his head at Jake's sudden intensity. "Realistically, it may not be as big as, say, One Direction coming to America, but we're really doing something different here. It's a risk, but if done right, it could lead to good things. More headlining performances in America for Busted and McFly for example. We just need to home in on reaching our audience as best we can as well as branching out to the outlets that don't exactly know who the bands are or what they're about."

"You don't have to pitch anything to me," Fletch said with a laugh. "The balls are already rolling on this, mate. Kind of getting to the point where we can't back out, can we?"

"I know, I know," Jake replied. "I'm just excited."

"Excitement is good. We just need to make sure it doesn't become too much. Pressure isn't going to help these groups, mate," Fletch said, clasping his fingers together. He rested his elbows on the table, settling his chin on top of his hands. "They've always been the type to do what they wanted. Even within any confines they have." He pointed back and forth between himself and Jake. "You and I both know that."

Jake nodded in agreement. He loved his time working with McFly. He loved their energy, in and outside of the studio. But he couldn't deny that it wasn't always fun. Seeing them get so dejected when showcase after showcase didn't work out. Or they were suddenly tasked with writing a second song to perform at their Hard Rock Café, show. And his fluctuating luck had a big hand in a lot of that. Still, whether Jake was making sure things ran smoothly on his end with Mr. Phillips, or on the band's end regarding breaking up quickly growing fights, teasing sessions, or to quell anxieties, he wouldn't change anything about his job.

"I'm thinking, we can expand their dedicated fanbase, and reach new fans if we have them vlog and record the process from now to the end of tour," Jake said, feeling himself smile. He was excited about his own idea. Over time, vlogging, and getting an inside look at the everyday lives of their favorite celebrities, had grown in popularity. Ordinary people were becoming "YouTube famous" now. Why not capitalize on it with already established people? Give fans a reason to follow them on social media? "Those who know how long these three bands have been friends will get to see them interact more, and for those who just know of the one band, they'll be exposed to new music as they make appearances in videos."

"So, one video would be on McFly's channel, the next on Busted's, and the third on Blazing Phoenix's?" Fletch asked. His lips pulled down in the corners as he thought about it. "I can see that, but it would become harder to do as we get busier. Which goes back to not wanting to put more pressure on any of them. If we already start stressing out about how things could be, it won't feel great if it falls flat."

"It won't," Jake insisted. "I know it won't. Besides, things always end up working out in the end, doesn't it?"

"I saw the Busted lads' faces when they were being packaged as a pop act," Fletch said, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "I worked hard to turn it around. I can't say it wasn't disheartening to see. I'm not going to have them go through that again. Charlie, especially."

"There are so many sub-genres to each genre out there, I doubt anyone would instantly think of them as a pop group," Jake said, waving his hand away. "Not anymore, anyway. Besides, with streaming platforms, so many people can instantly reach so many different genres. It's not an exclusive thing, anymore. The metalheads don't just listen to metal. The pop fans have been enjoying indie. Look at what's on the radio, now."

"I'm just saying," Fletch said, hitting the table with the sides of his hands. His palms were pressed together as if he was praying. Maybe he was. "We need to look at this strategically. Once we're really getting into the swing of things, it could be hard to come up with content. I mean, even they won't get through this without a case of writer's block at one point or another." He allowed a smile. "As long as we're all on the same page; we really listen to each other, and to the bands, and we make sure we get to do what we want to do, we'll have no issue."

"Once Ronan flies in, we can see where he's at with everything," Jake said.

Fletch waved his hand in the air as their food and drinks were brought over. "You know how Ronan is," he said. "As long as he has everything laid out in front of him, he's good to go."

"Yeah, well, maybe you two will find some lovely ladies at this party," Jake said. Fletch hummed in the back of his throat. "You know it's how I met Ashley."

"That was a fluke, don't you reckon?" Fletch asked. "All your bad luck just lined up to meet a girl who just so happened to have the luck you needed." He shook his head back and forth. "Besides, I have someone."

"So, you say," Jake commented. Fletch dropped his fork and threw his hands into the air. "All I'm saying is, I'd be more inclined to believe you if I just met her."

"There's no way I'm bringing her around this crazy lot," Fletch said, deadpan, drawing a circle in the air with his index finger. "Ever." Jake laughed. "How long have you been together for, again?"

"A while," Jake replied with a blink.

"And you haven't thought about engagement?"

"Of course, I've thought about it." Jake felt his shoulders tense defensively. "Katy won't let me not think about it."

"And?"

"And…I don't know," Jake replied. "Ashley deserves the best. The best ring, the best dress, the best location." He let out a sigh as he chewed. "I don't know."

"You don't know…" Fletch let his question hang in the air, prompting Jake to finish it for him. Jake just shrugged. "You've come a long way from where you started, you know."

"I know."

Fletch pointed his fork at Jake as he chewed. "You still think of yourself as the guy with bad luck, right?"

Jake took his time chewing his own bite of food. In short? Yes. He was still Jake, the guy with the shoes that needed to be duct taped shut to keep out water, in a death trap he called a studio apartment. He may have been able to afford nicer clothes, and even be able to have them tailored more to himself, but he was still just Jake.

And she was the Ashley Albright. She would only stay with him for so long.

"Mate, don't think like that," Fletch said, clicking his tongue. "Positivity, yeah? I see good things for the two of you." He shrugged. "Who knows what the future holds for us?"

"Success." Jake smiled and leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "Sweet, sweet, success." He gasped when he felt his chair tilt past the point of no return and topple over. Back slamming to the ground, his legs splayed in front of him, the chair was only cushioned by the carpeting only slightly. "I'm ok."

"I'll be surprised if we get through this without a few bumps and bruises along the way," Fletch said, looking around the side of the table to watch Jake as he picked himself up off the floor.

Jake just smiled sheepishly.