If it wasn't for him, Roadkill would still be playing at abandoned warehouses and random raves. Now they're selling out large venues and only gaining in popularity, and most of that's due to Marvin's savvy management. Bands across the country would kill for the chance to have him represent them, and they would probably wet themselves in ecstasy to know that he's thiiiiiis close to dumping Roadkill, creating a coveted vacancy in his client roster.
"Boys, I swear to God above and Satan below that, if he is so much as a minute late, you're all history. We've been together a long time, but I won't hesitate to cut you out. "
By my watch, Drax is a good six hours late already, but I know what he means. Roadkill is slated to start playing at ten, and the opening band has just started. That gives him less than two hours to make it here or his career -- the band's career -- is over.
My career, too. If Harry finds out I not only let Drax get drunk before the show, but also watched him run off with a groupie for some afternoon delight, I'll be shitcanned faster than I can say 'shitcan'. Which is, of course, why I'm really chowing down on all my fingernails. I don't even care. My stress level is in the stratosphere and it's only going up.
"Marvin, relax," says Savory, trying to calm the raging beast. Over the last few hours, I've come to appreciate his level-headedness. Nothing seems to rattle him. Can't say the same for ol' Marv.
"Relax?! Save, I've taken just about all the shit from that little bastard that I can take."
"C'mon, you have to admit he hasn't been much trouble at all the last couple years. I can't remember the last time he was late, really late."
Marvin isn't having any of it. One eyebrow pops up, then his gaze slides over to me. I try to melt into the wall but he pins me with his glare.
"Hey, you. What time did that prick finally show up to that thing this morning?"
My face burns so red that I don't need to answer.
"See?" Marvin spits, his arms flailing around madly. For a brief second, I'm grateful I took CPR because he looks like he's about to either have a heart attack or kill someone. Then Frank, the surly drummer, opens his big, fat mouth.
"It was only a stupid signing. He's never been late for anything important."
"Excuse me?!" I gasp.
Why am I getting in the middle of this? I have no idea, but apparently my pride won't let that little snub slide on by.
"Girl, please," Frank snorts. "Are you really comparing a fucking autograph signing to a concert?"
"Of course not, but don't act like it's nothing, or worse than nothing." I stand a little taller to prove I'm no pushover. "Do you have any idea how much work goes into a 'stupid signing'?"
I use air quotes, to which Frank huffs and drops into the nearest chair, resigning himself to the fact that a lecture is on its way. Boy, is it ever!
"Let's pretend everything goes smoothly, that the record store you booked months earlier doesn't cancel at the last minute, forcing you to scramble to find another venue. Let's say you don't have to call in favors and promise to name your firstborn after the owner, regardless of the kid's gender. And never mind about rerouting shipments of head shots to the new place. Forget all that."
I take a breath and see that every member of Roadkill is actually paying attention to me. Marvin is, too, but he's got a knowing smirk plastered on his round face. The man may be a hotheaded snake, but he knows his business.
I soldier on, ticking off on my fingers as many duties as I can remember off the top of my head. "You've got contracts that need signing, supplies to order, furniture to rent, signage to have made, advertising to buy, and a shitload of cranky fans to deal with as they wait around for their tardy hero. Some of those losers you call fans actually camped out on the sidewalk last night just to get the chance to meet Drax, if you can believe it. So don't go around acting like an autograph signing is nothing. I'll agree it's peanuts compared to organizing an actual concert, but it's still a helluva lot of work."
I'd love to say that you can hear a pin drop when I finish my little speech, but it would be a lie, what with the opening act pounding out something that sounds only vaguely like music. Pretend that awful band isn't trying to break everyone's eardrums and the cliche holds true.
"Huh," grunts Jake, shaking his spiky-haired head. "I'm exhausted just hearing about it. You, darlin', deserve a beer."
Before I can object, or gripe that he called me 'darlin' again, he pulls two bottles of fancy microbrews from the bucket of ice sitting next to the hospitality buffet and tosses one to me. Cracking open the other, he grins. "Can't let a lady drink alone."
"Um, no, thanks."
He shrugs when I set the bottle down and continues to chug the beer. Savory grabs a couple bottles of water from the same tub of slushy ice. I can't help noticing his sly glance at the wall clock -- 8:19 and counting.
"You're right, Lauren. I'm sure Frank didn't mean to insult you. We all know how hard you worked today, and your ass is on the line here, too."
That's a little better, but it would have been more appropriate for Frank to say those words. Close enough. Only when he passes me one of the waters do I realize how dehydrated I am. Ranting is thirsty work, apparently.
"Guys," Savory continues, "I won't believe Drax got trashed this afternoon. I'm telling you, something's not right here."
How many times do I have to explain to these guys what I saw at the bar?
"And I'm telling you, Savory, I know drunk when I see it, and Drax was almost falling down. If he hadn't had Little Miss New Boobs to hold onto, he would have."
I don't even try to hide the bitterness in my voice. I spot the look of pity in his eyes but no one else notices. He's still the only one who knows about my little...whatever it was with Drax. I flush, but not as much as I would have earlier in the day. I'm too stressed out and pissed off.
"Try his cell again," Marvin snaps at Savory.
"Dude, I've called him fifty times already."
As if on cue, my phone chirps and I nearly jump right out of my skin-tight dress. Four sets of male eyes turn to me as I dig around in my cleavage to retrieve it. Not many other places to tuck it in this outfit.
Up until the moment I look at the screen, I think I can't get any more freaked out than I already am. But then I look at the screen.
Harry Stephens.
My heart's about to crawl out of my throat and drag the contents of my stomach with it as I scurry out of the green room. Stupid me. It's ten times louder out here, but I couldn't face having this conversation with everyone listening. Besides, maybe it'll be so loud Harry will hang up. I'm not betting on it, though.
"Hi, Harry!" I say cheerfully, as if the world as I know it isn't about to end. He says something in response but I can't hear him. Plugging one ear, I duck my head -- as if it would really help with all this racket. My eardrums are going to start bleeding any second.
"What?!"
"I said, how's it going?" he screams into the phone.
I panic. I can't very well tell him the lead singer of the headlining band isn't here yet. What could he do about it anyway? He's all the way over in the city, and if the members of Roadkill can't find Drax, Harry certainly can't. But I hate lying. Obfuscation seems like the best option.
"Oh, um, yeah!"
"No," he shouts. "I asked how it's going over there."
"You bet!"
"No, Lauren. How...are...things?" He screams the words slowly, as if talking to a hearing-impaired child.
"Okay, you too! Gotta run!"
I click off before he can say anything else and slump back against the wall for support. I jump when the door slams open and Marvin stalks out. Savory follows him but stops when he sees me. Taking a swig from his water, he leans back next to me. We stand there in silence for a few moments, thinking and waiting.
"He told me about you, you know."
He's staring straight ahead, speaking barely loud enough for me to hear. My phone chirps and I silence it. I can't talk to Harry again, not r
ight now.
"Oh yeah?"
I pretend not to care but an insane form of joy flares in my heart. Most of me is mad as hell, but somewhere buried deep inside is a little girl jumping around and clapping her hands because the cutest boy in school told his best friend he likes her. I wag my finger at the little girl and remind her that the boy went off to bang some stripper-wannabe. Boy, that shuts her up!
"Oh yeah," Savory is saying. "No details, of course -- Drax is nothing if not a gentleman."
I snort in response. "Yeah, some gentleman."
He concedes my point with a shrug. "Well, I can't argue. But I have to tell you, Lauren, he never talks about girls. Last time he opened up about someone, they dated for three years."
I glance up at him and he looks earnest enough. Why would he be feeding me a line of shit, anyway? Drax wasn't just screwing with my job, he was leaving his bandmates and about 8,000 fans in the lurch. At this moment in time, Savory owed him nothing.
I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. He made his choice. I'm fine with it. Really."
Savory frowns, then nods. "Fair enough. But I'm not lying, Lauren. This isn't like him, I swear. In the ten years we've been playing together, he's never once missed a gig. Even at his worst."
I give him a dark look, pretending that I'm not curious about the last comment.
"Okay, he's been late a few times, but he's never just blown off a concert. Not ever. His parents may not have expected him to go into this line of work, but they drilled a rock-solid work ethic into that boy. He'll be here."
"And if he doesn't show? What then? Besides me losing any hope of actually having a career in the music industry, and you losing one of the country's best managers, of course."
Savory takes another swig of water and shakes his head. "No idea. I honestly hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, we'll figure it out."
My mind boggles at how Zen he is about this impending disaster. I'm practically crawling out of my own skin. "How can you be so calm?"
He smiles wistfully into the rafters overhead. "Guess I've just been through so much shit in my life that a canceled concert doesn't even register on the Shit Richter Scale. This too shall pass, and all that happy crap. But I'm probably not as laid back as you think."
"Really?"
A knot inexplicably forms in my stomach at his somber nod.
"If his bike wasn't locked up in the bus, I'd be worried he got in a wreck or something."
My body reacts reflexively to the mere suggestion of Drax being hurt...or worse. Goose bumps break out on top of goose bumps and all worries about losing my job evaporate. Was it possible?
"You're sure? About the bike being locked up?"
"Yup, double-checked it again about twenty minutes ago. Just before Marvin went postal."
I shake away the worry befuddling my brain. The asshole is off getting laid and I'm standing here in a cold sweat, concerned about his safety. Fuck that! I temper my response, though. No sense insulting Savory's friend. He seems genuinely concerned.
"I'm sure he's just off having some fun and lost track of time," I say, the words like glass in my mouth. All damn day, I'd imagined that I would be the one he was off having fun with. What a fool.
Savory sniffs a little laugh and shakes his head.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. It's just..." He looks over at me. "What you just said? About him being off having fun? I was going to say 'I hope so' but I honestly don't."
"Why?" I'm so completely confused right now. I thought Savory and Drax were best buds. I thought a cancelled concert was no big thing for him.
A sad smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Because if that's what he's doing, he really fucked up."
"Yeah, the press is really going to eat this up."
"Psh," he chuffs, shaking his head as if I just don't get it. "That's not what I meant."
I'm as clueless as ever and losing what little patience I have left. "What are you talking about then?"
"You, Lauren. I'm talking about you."
"Well, that's the last hospital in the area," Savory says, punching off his phone. "Lauren, any luck with the cops?"
I've been on hold for ten minutes, waiting for someone to help me. I'm about to answer Savory when a bored female voice comes on the line. I hold my finger up as I listen.
"What was the name again?"
"His legal name is Draymond Maxwell but he also goes by Drax."
I hear tapping. "Nope, he hasn't been booked in the last twenty-four hours."
"Okay, than--" She hangs up on me before I can finish thanking her. The rudeness doesn't even register on my radar. Every nerve in my body has been shredded over and over again today. I'm numb.
"Anyone try the morgue?" Jake is diddling on his guitar again, using an empty beer bottle as a slide. His tone doesn't suggest even a hint of concern for his bandmate but maybe the six beers he's had in the last two hours have dulled his senses.
"Wow," I breathe, amazed at his callousness. But I search on my phone for the number and call it anyway. My stomach is in knots dialing the number and I can feel myself blanching when I imagine the worst news.
After Savory told me I was the best thing to ever, kinda, possibly, maybe happen to Drax, I laughed him off. I mean, come on. How ridiculous is that? I'd had more conversations with Savory than Drax. How was it possible anyone could know so quickly that we'd be good together?
But I can't deny, as stupid as it sounds, the idea made me glow a little inside. And now I was calling police stations and morgues trying to locate his body.
Fun times.
"No one matching that description, ma'am. Hope you find him." I let out the breath I'd been holding and nearly laugh with relief. But this situation is far from funny.
Savory meets my eyes, dread finally registering in them. For all his talk earlier, I can see it all over his face that he's worried, and not just about Drax's safety. Marvin has been an absolute ass for the last two hours, popping his head in every fifteen minutes to let everyone know how much time they have left before they're set adrift without a lifeline in the vacuum of the music industry.
Oh, and here he is again, right on time. "Five more minutes, kids," he trills, a wicked grin making him look even crazier than before. Thank God he leaves.
I glance at the wall clock -- 9:55. There's absolutely no way Drax can make it on stage in time to make Marvin's deadline, even if he walks in right now. We're all screwed.
"Guess I better go let the facility manager know it's official." It's the second to last thing I want to do. The last is what I have to do right after that: Call Harry.
I leave Savory and Jake in the green room and go off in search of the facility manager. Nice enough guy but he wasn't very happy when I told him earlier that we might have to issue about 8,000 refunds. Not that he won't get what he's owed -- it's not his fault the show has to be canceled -- but it's a major hassle, and his employees will be the ones to field most of the irate complaints.
The opening band was instructed to go long, and they're still screeching away out on stage, but everyone backstage looks like they're watching a funeral. In a way, they probably are.
Roadkill was the horse to beat in the 'up and coming' ranks, but this kind of screw up is likely to do more than simply hobble them. If word gets around they're unreliable and hard to work with -- a threat Marvin's made plenty of times tonight -- the band will be blackballed entirely. They'll be lucky to do bar mitzvahs and high school dances.
I'm sick to my stomach, and all I really want to do is curl up in my bed and cry myself to sleep, but I still have work to do. So what if I won't have a job for too much longer? I'm not going to slack off my responsibilities because of a little thing like unemployment. If anything, my impending departure from Harry Stephens Productions makes me want to finish this thing as professionally as possible.
I find the facility manager in a shadowy corner sipping from a flask. He takes the news well and only stumbles a li
ttle on his way to warn his security people. The opening act finishes and the crowd erupts. They're salivating in anticipation of seeing Roadkill live, and I wonder what they'll do when they hear the news.
"Boy, I feel sorry for the poor chump who has to break it to them," I mumble as I head back to the green room, but a noise stops me. It's hard to hear over the crowd chanting "Roadkill! Roadkill! Roadkill!" but I think I hear someone saying Drax's name from nearby.
I lean in close to a thick black curtain. Frank Swat, the drummer, is on the other side talking to someone. Why on earth would anyone come out here to make a phone call? Assuming they wanted to hear the person on the other end of the line, that is. I can't stop myself from listening in.
Yeah, I know. I'm too nosy for my own damn good. Sue me.
"No, I swear. Friday after the show." Long pause. "Man, I can't. Thanks to that dickmunch, we won't get a dime from this stop. I need a little more--" Another long pause. When he speaks again, I can barely hear him but there's no hiding the fear in his voice. "Yeah, got it."
"So long, fellas," Marvin Harmony shouts into the green room. "Good luck with your careers. You're gonna need it!"
I hid behind the curtain, waiting for Frank to leave, and lucky me, I'm just in time to see Marvin's grand exit. He spins around and spots me walking up. His hair is wilder than ever but he has an almost gleeful look on his haggard face.
"Ah, you." He hasn't once used my name. "You better get to it."
"Get to what?" As seems to be my habit today -- most days, if I'm being really honest -- I'm clueless. All I have left to do is call Harry so he can fire me. But Marvin is looking at me like I'm the town idiot. He's probably not wrong. Then he bursts out laughing.
I'm starting to get pretty pissed off. This buffoon bullies everyone, and now he's standing there pointing a finger at me and really yukking it up.
I move to walk past him -- in a huff, of course -- but he grabs my arm to stop me. All humor has left his eyes, replaced with a glint as cold as frozen steel. His teeth peel back in a frightening grin.
So I Married a Rockstar Page 4