"Fuckin' assholes!" Drax is raging mad, stomping up and down the bus's tiny aisle, ready to tear someone from limb to limb. "What the hell happened?"
I'm frantically reading the contract the band signed for tonight's show, looking for something -- anything -- to explain why the promoters fired them so abruptly. I'm also keenly aware that the shapeless robe I'm wearing barely begins to cover my curves, and that I'm one big pothole away from popping out all over the place. I've always been good at multi-tasking, but this is pushing my comfort zone. Needless to say, my fingernails are raw nubs.
"I dunno, dude," Savory says for the umpteenth time. "The email just said they were 'terminating our contract due to unforeseen circumstances'."
"Can they do that?" Jake's wide awake now, having slept off much of the previous evening's drinks.
All eyes turn to me. Me, who's only ever seen the most simple of contracts. Me, who just got fired on the very first day of her very first promotor job. Me, who's barely keeping herself covered in this stupid stolen hotel robe.
"I don't see any language saying they can't cancel," I mumble as I skim the document. It's really not much more complicated than the ones we used for signings at my dads' store.
"Ah, here it is. 'Cancellation may be made by operator before two days prior to the time of show, in which case operator's fifty percent deposit of fee is non-refundable, but operator will not have to pay the remaining fifty percent of fee. If show is cancelled within two days of show, operator must pay band's full fee.'"
I smile up at them but they just scowl back at me.
"Fuck!" Drax slams his hand on the dinette table.
"Assholes," Savory mutters, his kohl-rimmed eyes staring bleakly out the dark window.
"No, you don't understand," I object. "They didn't cancel two days in advance. That means they have to pay you the full amount, whether you play or not."
Frank chuffs and shakes his head, as if I'm the dumbest person ever born. They all look supremely pissed off and no one is telling me why.
"Guys, what am I missing?"
"Good luck collecting the rest of the fee, Lola." Frank's surliness is really starting to get on my nerves.
"Besides," Jake adds, "merch is where the money's at."
"Merch?"
"Merchandise," Drax explains. "T-shirts, hats, do-rags, panties--"
"Panties?!" I can't stop myself from laughing, despite the dour mood on the bus. It's the first time in an hour that Drax smiles, even if it's only a little. I count it as a win.
"Sure. Gotta have merch for the ladies. "
"Da shluttier da better," smirks Jake. Maybe he hasn't sobered up as much as I thought.
"Anyway," Drax continues, casting a dark look at his bandmate, "the fee the promoter was paying us was nothing compared to what we would have earned on the merch. Besides, a gig like this is all about exposure. The other three bands are much bigger than us, and we really could have gained some traction if their fans got to know us."
"Oh." I scan the contract and, for the first time, notice how low the fee is. It seems pretty paltry, even to a newbie like me. "I just don't understand why they canceled at the last minute like this."
"Marvin," Drax seethes. "It was Marvin. Had to be. It's bad enough that he dropped us but now he's fucking with us. I swear to God, if I ever see that smarmy, two-faced son of a bitch again..."
He lets the threat hang in the air while we process what he's said. He's right. It was their old manager, Marvin Harmony. I knew there was a reason I didn't like that guy.
As we sit in silence, my brain spins. I need to do something. I need to prove myself to the band. I know they don't expect much from me, but that doesn't mean I can't surprise them. Truth be told, if I can do anything with this mess, I'll surprise myself, but I've got to try. If I'm going to be a failure as a band manager, too, I should fail after at least trying to succeed.
"Shit, we might as well turn this bitch around and head back to San Fran," Drax grouses and gets up to tell the driver to turn around.
"Drax, wait!"
He stops and all eyes are on me yet again. But this time I'm excited. I have a purpose in life, a mission. I'm not sure what's going to happen, or what I'm even going to do, but I do know that we have to go to Vegas for my not-yet-formed plan to work. I know it in my gut.
"Give me one day in Vegas to fix this," I say, glancing at each one. I land on Drax and don't break eye contact. Only this time, it's me holding his gaze. If I can get him onboard, the others will follow his lead. "It may not work out, but you guys brought me with you as your manager. Let me earn my keep. Or at least let me try."
Drax's gaze drills into me, asking without words if I'm sure. I answer the same way: Hell, yeah. Satisfied, he nods.
"Why the fuck not?"
The others look at each other, then shrug. Their support is underwhelming but I'll take what I can get.
It's three in the morning, and the day has taken its toll on everyone. Jake slumps back into the couch and Frank hops into one of the bunks. Savory continues to stare out the window but I can see him fading fast.
Drax takes my hand and tries to pull me up. "Let's go." I know what that animal growl means, but I shake my head and smile up at him.
"Sorry, sexy. I've got work to do."
"Good morning, sunshines!"
The boys were asleep when I left earlier, but they're up and chugging their first cups of coffee by the time I get back to the bus. We're in a crowded RV park right off Highway 582 in Vegas, surrounded by blue-hairs in motorhomes and fifth wheels. Our rig stands out like a sore thumb thanks to the band's name plastered on each side in three-foot tall letters with blood spatters surrounding it. But, hey, whaddaya know -- Roadkill's money is just as good as Grandpa Joe's in the next space over.
"No loud music," warned the clerk when I checked us in, eyeballing the bus's admittedly gross graphics.
"Scout's honor," I said, smiling as reassuringly as possible. She didn't look convinced but gave us our space assignment -- after taking the $20 bribe I slipped her.
"Where'd you run off to?" Drax asks, looking me up and down with hungry eyes. My nipples tingle at the look and I cross my arms to hide the evidence.
"I had an errand to run."
His eyes narrow in the sexiest way. "So early?"
I smile even though my bones ache with weariness, and plop down in front of the laptop, setting a big paper bag next to me. "While you boys were getting your beauty sleep, I was working my ass off."
"Lauren, where the hell are we?" Savory asks, rubbing the sleep -- and the kohl -- from his eyes. "And what's in the bag?"
"Maple bars."
Jake snatches up the bag and passes it around.
I sigh and scroll through my email. "Well, we obviously weren't going to be welcome to park behind the venue, so I found alternate lodging. Dammit!"
"What?"
"Oh, nothing." It's not nothing but I don't want to worry them. Not yet.
One of the many things I worked on last night was booking another gig or two, and the email I just read is the first of what I expect to be a flood of rejections. Who books shows the night of? What was I thinking that I could pull this off? I don't have any connections in the industry in general, much less in Vegas. Any elation I had a few minutes ago has been whisked away.
"So where were you?" Drax asks again.
Okay, so not all of it was whisked away. I still feel a little like Wonder Woman and can't wait to tell them what I've been up to.
"Oh, nowhere special. I was just off getting donuts...and collecting the rest of your fee." I whip out the check and slap it on the table with a flourish.
"What the hell?"
"How?"
"Fuck yeah!"
They're all talking at once and I giggle at the praise they're heaping on me. It's nice to not only do something right but to be appreciated for it. My old boss Harry couldn't wrap his tiny little brain around that concept. Which is, of course, why I'm here.
I probably should thank him.
As if.
"Hey, I'm your manager," I say when they finally let me talk. "Isn't that my job?"
I let them beg for a bit before launching into my tale.
"After you guys turned in, I started working. My first order of business as your new manager was to get the money you were owed. So as soon as we got parked, I took a cab over to Rancid Productions and had a little chat with the owner, Mr. Stanway."
"Prick," grumbles Frank. For a guy who just got paid for not working, he looks mighty irritated. And who the heck is he texting?
"You have no idea. But he came to understand that the very core of our civilization rests on the concept of people being true to their word. He also came to understand that he would pay a lawyer about a jillion times more to fight a lawsuit than what he owed you."
"You, Lola, are a rockstar." Drax lunges across the table and lays a big smackaroo on my lips, holding my face in his hands. His kiss is just as electrifying as ever, even after going 24 hours with no sleep. I quiver at the way he looks at me. Thank goodness I'm sitting down or I might have crumpled into a giant, jiggly heap.
"Heh hem."
That brings us out of our own little world. Drax sits back, adjusting himself along the way. I still can't quite believe I have such an effect on him, but I'm loving every minute of it. Pepper was right. If it ends today -- and it probably will, after my next bit of news -- I'll have the memories forever.
I clear my throat and break the bad news. "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to book a new gig yet. I sent out about a hundred emails last night to every venue I could find. My 'dammit' was the first 'no thanks' coming through."
Drax leans over and elbows Savory. "Isn't she cute?"
Savory nods, a smirk playing at his lips. "Totally. She's downright adorable."
What are these two talking about? They're doing that 'best friend psychic talk' again. I'm clearly the brunt of some joke only they know.
"Yeah, she's smokin'," Jake chimes in, clearly as oblivious as me.
Drax's expression turns dark. "Watch your mouth, man."
If someone were to invent a new device that would allow humans to shoot steam from their ears and fire from their eyes, I'm pretty sure he'd be the first in line to test it. It's silly and shallow and very cave-woman of me, but I'm all fluttery inside that he's so protective. I don't want him to hurt Jake or anything, but I'm surprised to discover a side of me that likes a he-man. Who knew?
I don't want this to turn ugly so I laugh and say, "What are you guys talking about anyway? Other than the obvious..." I wave a hand at my curves, once again poured into my awesome blue dress. "Why am I so cute?"
Drax tears his gaze away from Jake, who's now cowering like a puppy caught rummaging through the garbage. "Lauren, the odds of you being able to book a show at the last minute like this are astronomical. Don't beat yourself up if nothing shakes out. Just getting the rest of our pay is worth the trip, as far as I'm concerned. Plus, other stuff."
I blush like a schoolgirl, but the others ignore the innuendo.
"Damn straight," Jake says just a bit too enthusiastically. He's trying to make up for his bonehead comment. "Now let's celebrate with some Denny's!"
After an artery-clogging omelette, I'm ready to hit the sack. I'm doing my darnedest to keep up with all the music biz talk the boys are yammering about but it quickly turns into white noise. I catch my head bobbing and snort myself awake.
Classy.
"I see someone's not used to musician hours," Drax says. "We should probably get Sleeping Beauty here back to the bus so she can catch some ZZZs."
I want to argue, to say I'm totally fine, but the truth is, I'm a wreck. The scrumptious thought of resting my brain-dead head on that not-particularly-soft bed in the bus gives me just enough energy to make it back to the RV park.
Drax guides me to the little back bedroom and begins to undress me. I moan and press against him, half of me wanting him to take me right here, right now. But he's smart enough to know that the other half needs her rest.
"Shh, little Lola. Later, when you're not a zombie. You may be surprised to learn that I like my ladies to actually be awake when I rock their world."
I'm out almost before my head hits the pillow.
Hours could have passed or maybe just minutes, but something jars me into consciousness. Where am I? The room is dark, though a gleam of light spurts out from the edges of the window shades. Slowly I realize that I'm not in my room over the record store. I'm in an RV.
Oh, right! A bus. Roadkill's bus. And last night, somewhere between Bakersfield and Barstow, Draymond Maxwell blew my mind -- among other things -- right here in this very bed. I squirm at the memory, flickers of heat sparking low in my belly.
The voices on the other side of the accordion door are growing louder but I can't quite make out what they're saying. Something's going on and there's no way I'm going back to sleep until I find out what it is. I pause as I shrug into the same ill-fitting robe I worked in all night on the way here.
Just one day ago, I was cursing the day Drax's parents met because they produced the most infuriating demon spawn ever to walk the face of the earth. Now I'm wearing his robe and sleeping in his bed. Oh yeah, and I'm the band's manager...for the time being.
If you would have told me all this yesterday, I would have laughed in your face and then maybe popped you one in the mouth for suggesting I was easy or something. What a difference a few hours and one panty-melting kiss can make! I pinch myself to make sure I'm not actually dreaming. I have no idea how that's supposed to determine whether I'm asleep, but it hurts so I guess that means I'm awake.
"Yes, this would do nicely," says a voice I don't recognize on the other side of the door. "What's back here, I wonder?"
Sliding open the door before anyone else can, I find myself face-to-face with a strange man. A very handsome strange man.
"Oh!"
He's dressed to the nines in a custom-tailored suit I know cost more than my current car -- which isn't really saying much, to be honest. His dark brown eyes gives me an appraising once-over, a single thick, black eyebrow launching up his forehead. A stray lock of his slicked-back dark brown hair drapes across it.
I pull the robe tighter up top, but that only makes it gape down low. I feel like a slab of meat hanging in the butcher's window.
"Oh, is right," he oozes.
Yeah, that's right. This man oozes. Everything about him. He oozes charm, the words he speaks ooze from his lips, his cologne oozes off him in waves, and I'm pretty sure he's oozing hair product. My spidey-sense is screaming 'Run away!' but there's nowhere to run.
"That's enough!" Drax looks ready to bite the head off this guy. Not in a scolding kind of way, but in an Ozzy Ozbourne-with-a-bat way. "We got the message, now get out."
The man's eyes narrow and there's no mistaking that he's dangerous. Ignoring Drax's rage, he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips, never breaking eye contact. I'm breathless with confusion and fear but I don't dare snatch my hand away.
Just because I'm in a sleepy stupor doesn't mean I'm stupid. I grew up in San Francisco, about a decapitated horse's head away from North Beach, the major Italian neighborhood. It's safe to say that I know a mobster when I see one.
"And who might you be?" His interest in me sends chills down my spine, and not in the fun way. But if there's one thing I know about dealing with this type of guy, it's to be respectful without showing any fear.
Mustering all the bravery I can, I move my lips into something that resembles a smile and twist my hand in his to shake it. "I'm Lauren Raines, Roadkill's manager."
My gaze never wavers from his, but I try to keep it cordial. I don't want him to think I'm challenging him. But over his shoulder, Drax is seething and ready to pounce. I have no clue what's happening, but it's not good, and one wrong move could make it about a billion times worse.
"Marco Gasperini," he says...excuse me, oozes. The twinkle in his eye
says he knows I'm more than just a manager. Man, these mob guys pick up on everything.
"It's a pleasure, Mr. Gasperini. How can I help you?"
His slimy smile grows wider. "Oh, I can think of so many ways..."
That's the final straw for Drax. He lunges but luckily Jake and Savory grab him. Marco ignores the scuffle behind him. Cocky bugger!
"Let's start with the reason you came for a visit and move on from there. Can I offer you something to drink?"
I can tell he's impressed with my handling of the situation but he's quickly growing bored. Or maybe he's running late for an appointment to break someone's kneecaps. Whatever it is, the smile falls away and is replaced by a dark veil of warning.
"Thanks for your hospitality, honey -- more than your, uh, clients offered -- but I have other business to attend to. I'm sure the boys here will fill you in."
After one final ogle of my barely contained boobs, he spins around and pushes past the guys -- Drax stares daggers and machine guns at him as he oozes by -- slamming the door behind him.
Once I'm sure he's out of earshot, I stuff my fists on my hips in my most 'angry mama' way. "Can someone please tell me why we just had a visit from the mafia?"
Drax is still super pissed. "Why don't you ask that fuckhead," he gruffs, jerking his head toward Frank.
Only now do I realize that Frank has been sitting quietly on the couch during this whole scene, his head hanging low. When he looks up, tears drip off his chin. His wet eyes plead for forgiveness. My stomach churns at the thought of what could cause such a surly buttmunch to bawl like a pre-teen girl.
"I fucked up, Lauren. I fucked up bad."
"You lost how much?!"
I can't believe my ears. Hey, I've bought my fair share of dollar scratch-offs but I can't really believe someone would bet $10,000 on a football game. Well, maybe a billionaire, but a starving musician?
Frank drops his head in his hands and starts sobbing again. I want to break his kneecaps myself, and I'm almost tempted to suggest letting Marco have his way with the guy but Jake beats me to it. Now I'm ashamed for even thinking it.
So I Married a Rockstar Page 7