“You need a keeper.” She held the door open, and the twins slipped out first with their instrument cases in their hands.
“My drums—”
“Already on the WMO bus. I supervised the transfer myself before I woke you up.”
Dolly pulled the door to the suite closed after we both were through it.
“I’m sorry I drank too much last night.” Her expression remorseful, she frowned at me. “I let you down. Your first RFC hookup, and you did it alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“You know what I mean. You were nervous, and I wasn’t there for you.”
“It’s okay.”
My cell rang. Well, it vibrated in my pocket. I’d turned the ringer off before going to bed. Unlinking my hand from Dolly’s, I passed my coffee to her and pulled out my phone.
I glanced at the caller ID and answered it right away. “Hey, Marsha. How are you? Where are you?”
“I’m on the Enthusiasts’ bus. It’s pretty nice with only Ivan and me and my kitty on board. We’re on the highway chugging in your direction, and I wanted to check on you. I heard you started your season last night.”
“Who told you?”
“Tyler called Ivan pretty early this morning. But he didn’t share anything with me. Guy confidences and all that. Barbara let me know it went really well.”
“Who’s Barbara?” I asked.
“Barbara Michaels, Rayne Michaels’ daughter. She used to be Suzanne’s PA. She was Raven’s briefly, then mine during my season before she was promoted. She’ll be the on-location executive producer for your season. She’s great. I trust her completely.”
“Good to know.”
“You’ll need her and all the support you can get when you’re dealing with Suzanne. That woman doesn’t seem to get the sister-solidarity part of the RFC movement.” Marsha let out a long breath. “So, how’d your first fuck go? Was it awkward being filmed?”
“Not really. Once we got started, it was like the crew wasn’t even there.”
“They’re very discreet.”
“How much say do you have on what they actually end up making public?” I asked.
“A lot. But I think you’ll be pleased by how it turns out. I was. Ignacio’s a genius. He makes it all, even the sex scenes, super artistic.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“No need to. There’s a snippet from yours up on WMO’s website this morning. If you’re interested in watching more, Barbara has a file of the entire edited segment.”
“Whoa.”
“They don’t mess around. The Rock Fuck Club series is red hot. Record labels. Advertisers. Everyone wants to capitalize on the success of it. Speaking of that, I wanted to let you know how well the stuff I put up of your band on my YouTube channel is doing.”
“What stuff?” So much had happened, I couldn’t keep up with it. Not on the amount of sleep I’d had.
“The interview I did in your van. Your performance at Joey’s. I linked everything to WMO’s intro page for you and your season. It’s got half a million hits already.”
I nearly staggered in shock. “What? That’s insane.”
“Welcome to the Rock Fuck Club.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“It’s a lot to take in. I started my season in a bad place. But you seem to be in a good frame of mind for it.”
“Maybe.” I wasn’t so sure. “Hey, I’d better let you go.” Dolly and I had reached the elevator. I’d probably lose the connection.
“Busy day ahead for you,” Marsha said. “Emails to answer. Potential rocker bios to go over. I just wanted to catch you before you got inundated. Let you know I’m here for you, and so is Raven. Our seasons are done, but RFC stars should stick together.”
We said our good-byes as I stepped into the elevator with Dolly and the twins. Sliding my phone back into my jeans pocket, I took my coffee back from Dolly and slurped a big sip as the elevator door reopened on the ground floor.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, apparently noticing my cringe.
“The coffee’s already cold.”
“Bummer.” She tugged my arm. “Whoa, zombie girl. You’re going the wrong way.”
“But the parking garage is over there.” I pointed.
“Yeah, but the buses are all out in front of the hotel.”
“Okay.” My brows drew together. “What about your mom’s van?”
“Already taken care of. Jagger and Arrow drove it to a long-term parking spot at the Albuquerque airport. My mom’s gonna fly in and drive it back.”
“That’s nice of her.” I squinted as we stepped outside. The bright sunlight hurt my eyes. I took my sunglasses off my head and put them on.
“WMO is paying for her ticket. She’ll make a vacation of it. I don’t think nice has much to do with it.”
Dolly shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal, but I knew her relationship with her mom was more complicated than she let on. The strap of the pretty powder-pink mid-thigh sundress had slipped off her shoulder from her shrug, and I slid it back into place.
“Thanks.” She gave me a small smile.
“You’re welcome.”
“This way.” She turned left on the sidewalk.
The La Fonda shops with colorful Native American crafts displayed in the windows were on the left of us, and a line of tour buses cast shadows our right. Applause broke out as we walked by the roadie one. I glanced up to see quite a few people I knew leaning out of the windows.
Way to go seemed to be the general consensus. I waved to acknowledge them.
The Monsters. The Dragons. Cush Diamond’s bus. Rage Element. The Gods of Rock tour had a lot of big-name bands and a lot of buses. The next to the last one had a paper sign on the dash like the others, only on this one, someone had scrawled Joey’s Band in Sharpie above the laser-printed WMO letters.
“I did it.” Dolly smiled widely at me.
I tossed my empty coffee cup in a nearby trash receptacle and shared a fist bump with her.
Maybe this RFC stuff wouldn’t be so bad.
The back of my neck suddenly started to prickle like it had inside the parking garage the night before. With my hair all wet this morning, it was an even odder sensation than it had been then.
Slowly, I turned around, scanning the sidewalk. My breath caught when I noticed Anthem’s bus behind WMO’s, and a rider idling at the curb on his motorcycle.
His helmet dipped as he took me in. The visor hid his silver eyes, but I knew who it was just by the way he made me feel.
He’s just a friend, I told myself.
Pasting on a smile, I waved. Gale waved back and crooked his fingers, scooting forward and gesturing to the additional space he’d created on the leather seat behind him. I shook my head and hooked a thumb to the WMO bus.
Sure, I wanted to ride him . . . ride with him. But I got, even if he didn’t, that getting on the back of that motorcycle with him would mean something.
Even more so with everyone watching.
“SO, YOU AND GALE seem awfully chummy this morning,” Dolly said as the WMO bus door closed behind us.
I shrugged, a hard maneuver to pull off on the stairs.
“Did you leave something out about last night?” Turning around on the step above me, she narrowed her gaze on me. “Is he going to be your fuck number two?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No way.”
“But you like him?”
“I do, but I don’t want another guy pissed off at me. Last night, Gale and I decided to be friends. Nothing more.”
I gestured for her to continue moving, but I stopped to introduce myself to the driver. He had curly brown hair and friendly eyes. On eight hours, off eight to rest, the driver was usually up all night while the occupants of the bus slept.
“Hi, I’m Josephine.” I stuck out my hand but tilted my head. “That was my best friend, Dolly.”
“Nice to meet you.” He shook my hand and released it. “I’m Trip.”
“Yeah.” His lips curved into a smile. He was kind of cute.
“Not Tripper? Not a nickname?”
“Nope. Just Trip.”
“Well, okay. I wanted to say up front how much I appreciate you and what you do. Our lives are in your hands while we’re on the road. If there’s anything you need, just let me or any of my friends know.”
“Will do. Same here.” He gave me a chin lift.
“When’s bus call?”
“One a.m. once we get to the venue.”
“Got it.” I patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Trip. Thanks for taking care of us.”
I took the last few steps up into the main living area of the bus and had a whoa moment like I’d had when I first entered the hotel suite. “The front lounge is huge.”
Dolly nodded. “The couches are super comfy. What’s bus call?”
“The absolute latest time you can get on the bus before it departs the venue or the hotel. If you’re not there, it typically leaves without you.”
“Pretty serious.”
I nodded. “Load-ins. Setups. Sound checks. Teardowns. Loads out.” Twelve to fifteen hours of work on concert days as a roadie. “Those are serious. Just remembering a bus-call time isn’t so bad.”
I glanced around. The two leather couches did look comfy. The wall-mounted flat screen appeared to be new. There was a kitchenette with shiny wood cabinets and gleaming granite countertops, a banquette, and cool recessed lighting in all the niches.
“This is really nice,” I said.
“Different from the roadie bus?”
“Oh yeah.” I nodded. “This one is clean and new. Plus, the front section of that one was tiny compared to this one.”
“Is it a smaller bus?”
“Probably. How big is this one?”
“Forty-five feet. Trip told me earlier, but I didn’t get his name then. It sleeps twelve. I counted the berths. I put your sticks and practice pad in the middle one on the right. Your all-access Gods of Rock Tour lanyard is there too, and your key to the bus is on it.”
“Thanks.”
“Why do you look scared?” she asked me.
“This is really happening.”
“This is already happening. You started last night. Remember?”
“With my own bus, a key, and a driver, it seems more official now.”
“Hi.”
A pretty blonde in a flowing black dress walked through the automatic door on the other side of the lounge. Moving toward us, she stopped when she reached us and extended her hand to me.
“I’m Barbara Michaels, your executive producer. Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you first came on. I was in the back lounge answering some emails for the show.”
“Marsha mentioned you.”
“She mentioned you to me too. She likes you.”
An endorsement that made me stand a little straighter. “I like her too. This is my friend Dolly. The lead singer in Joey’s Band.”
“We met earlier.” Barbara nodded. “I met the twins then too.”
“I’m so sorry,” I deadpanned.
Barbara laughed. “They’re lively.”
“They are definitely that.”
“Are you ready to go over your itinerary for the day?”
“I have an itinerary?”
“A loose one. I thought it might be best to get a routine established. Since you seem to have jumped into the hooking-up part right away.” Her seafoam-green eyes shimmered warmly.
“Sure. Do you have some coffee?”
“Oh yes. We have lots of that.”
She crossed to the kitchenette. The moccasin slippers on her feet were soundless and looked authentic. I wondered if Raven had given them to her.
She poured me a cup from a pot that had already percolated. “Here you go.”
“Still warm,” I said after taking a sip and cupping my hands around the WMO mug.
“I try to keep a pot on. But there are extra grounds in the cupboard. Filters. Bottled water. I like my caffeine.”
“I need my caffeine.”
“Yes, I do too.” She gestured to the front lounge. “Would your friend like to stay here while we get some work done?”
“Does the television work?” Dolly asked.
“It will once we get rolling. The power for most things works off the vehicle battery.”
“Sounds good.” Dolly flopped back onto one of the couches.
“This way.” Barbara turned, and the door in front of her slid open.
“Sensor operated?”
“Yes, but don’t get too excited. The high-tech stuff kind of ends there.” She waved a hand to her left to indicate a stall-like bathroom. “The shower barely works. Don’t ever drink the water. No-solid restrictions apply for the toilet.”
“That’s the same as the roadie bus.”
“I forgot you’re accustomed to the touring life.”
“Accustomed, sure, but not to being on a big bus like this. Not to a film crew, an executive producer, or fucking a rocker while being filmed.”
“Rocker, or rockers plural, you mean.”
I nodded.
“It seems a wider general classification is necessary. It certainly was with Marsha. She started out with three rock stars.”
Barbara entered the back lounge, took a seat on one of the couches, and I sat on the end of the other on the diagonal across from her.
“So, number one is done for you. Do you have the next planned?”
I shook my head, though her mention of multiples had given me an idea.
Barbara grinned at me. “I’ve seen the video with you and Tyler Vaughn. It’s pretty hot. Black Cat Records is thrilled.”
“That’s the Enthusiasts’ label, right?”
“Yes. And the first item on our itinerary is a phone call to their CEO. Mary Timmons would like to have a word with you.”
MY EYES WERE HOLY shit wide. I could barely believe this was happening. My official first day on the WMO bus, and the first order of business was a call to one of the biggest labels in the business. Anxiety, fear, and elation, I felt all of those as Barbara put her cell on speaker and the call rang through.
“Black Cat Records, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Karen. This is Barbara Michaels calling back.”
“Ms. Timmons is expecting you. I’ll patch you right through. Just a moment.”
It rang only once.
“Mary Timmons speaking.”
Her coolly efficient voice made me sit up straighter as if she could see me and might judge my worth as an artist by my posture.
“Ms. Timmons, this is Barbara. I have Josephine Poet with me. We’re together on the WMO bus. You’re on speaker.”
“Good day, Ms. Poet.”
“Hi, Ms. Timmons. How are you?”
“I’m well, and you?”
“Good. A little tired, I guess.”
“I imagine so.” The initial ice in her tone seemed to thaw a little. “I saw the time stamp on the video with Mr. Vaughn from last night. You two were up late and seem to be more than just acquaintances.”
I was a fish swimming in a tank that everyone seemed to be watching. It seemed best not to lie. “Yes, we’re more than that.”
“You’ve been his drum tech for the entire tour.”
“Yes.”
“I spoke to Ronald. He tells me you have an impeccable work ethic, minus one late bus call.”
“I apologize for that. My band was playing across town, and I got delayed.”
“I like when people in my employment take responsibility for their mistakes.” The sound of papers rustling came through the speaker. “Your band is the main reason I wanted to speak with you.”
“It is?” Eeep! I hadn’t dared to hope.
“You are the leader of Joey’s Band, yet not the lead singer. Is that correct?”
“Yes. I guess I’m the leader, but I consult my bandmates on major decisions.”
/> “Be that as it may, it’s you I wish to speak to. Your voice is front-woman worthy when Ms. Byron doesn’t overshadow you.”
“I’m not the main singer.”
“Ms. Poet.” Mary sounded flustered. “I have a reputation in this industry. Are you aware of it?”
“Of course,” I said, more than she likely knew.
“I seek to be honest and up front with potential clients, while my competitors will likely only tell you what you want to hear.”
“I’m not interested in being lied to.”
“Neither am I, Ms. Poet. I have a very low threshold for falsehood, and very high expectations.”
I wondered where my father measured with her on either scale.
“My artists sometimes chafe at my methods, but nearly all achieve success beyond what they dreamed. Brutal Strength. Tempest. Sara Daniels. Billy Blade. Rush McMahon. And I could add you to that list, with a few adjustments to your band and some polishing of your sound.”
“Wow. Thank you. I don’t know what to say. What kind of changes?”
“Personnel changes, mainly. I want you at lead singer and Ms. Byron as backup. If she can play the drums as capably as you do, I would just switch your positions.”
“No.” My stomach clenched so tight, the coffee threatened to come back up. “I’m a drummer.”
“It’s your voice and your songwriting ability that interest me.”
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t my brother’s dream coming true.
My hands clenched into fists where they rested on my jean-clad knees. “I can work harder on the drums. Take more lessons.”
I wanted to cry. Curling my fingers tighter into my palms, I focused on the bite of my blunt nails in my skin rather than my disappointment.
“Your talent isn’t on percussion. I’m offering you a contract with the premier label in the industry. A chance for you and your band to be stars.”
“I appreciate that. But it isn’t about that for me. So I’ll have to decline, respectfully.”
Mary hesitated for a second, probably unaccustomed to being turned down. “You’re making a mistake.”
“That’s not uncommon territory for me.”
I determined to do better, to refocus on the drums. The RFC remained a means to an end, but I couldn’t let it be too much of a distraction. I needed to get my season done quickly. New friendships like Gale’s, and even my old ones, everything would have to go on the back burner so I could work harder to be as good as my brother had been on drums.
ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars Book 5) Page 12