And I couldn’t let Sandy fool around with any of the guys under his nose, either. Maybe we could make a pact to stay away from the boys and somehow keep each other to it. Maybe we could tag team each other and make sure we were never alone with the guys.
At this point, that was looking like our best case scenario.
The Debrief
After the boys gathered around the kitchen sink to brush their teeth (because it was easier than taking turns in the microscopic bathroom and it allowed everyone to get their turn in there more quickly), Dad called everyone to order.
The meeting was mostly going over the day’s itinerary, set list, and a few bus basics (like not slamming doors, not cooking on the stove while the bus was moving, bathroom schedules, and respecting time limits, et cetera), when Gary told us we were just a few minutes from pulling up to the truck stop. Everyone needed to get ready (other than Dad, who had obviously thought ahead) but getting dressed in the bunks was a non-option, especially for big guys. I suggested Sandy, Kiki, and I go into the office and close the curtain, giving the guys room in the open area at the front of the bus. Then, after they left, we’d finish getting ready and join them in the restaurant. This also gave us time on our own to review the itinerary and what we needed to do to make the day go smoothly.
“Great thinking,” Dad said with a nod and a wink. He pulled the curtain closed across the front of the office with him inside before he sat down beside me.
“All right,” I began, looking down at my hastily-scribbled to do list. “While the guys go to the Y and then to the Hall of Fame, I’m thinking I’ll go do some shopping. I need some clothes and things for myself and I can see if any of them need anything.”
“Good plan,” Dad said and turned to point at the file box. “Linda would have a file set up with car services in each town, so just call one to take you where you need to go. Sandy,” he said, turning to my friend. “I need you with us to take some shots since you’re now officially our only media on tour.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Sandy said with a salute. “I did some quick candid interviews with them after last night’s gig, so I do need some time to cut those so you can review them. Maybe I’ll make some pictures for Instagram, too—I have some great sound bites that I can turn into graphics. I can do that while they’re working out.”
“That works,” Dad said. “I’m sure you’ve already connected to the bus’s Wi-Fi network?”
“Yep,” she said. “Gary gave us all the password last night. I also have the list of today’s social media messages for you to approve.”
“Perfect,” he said with a nod. “I can go over that at breakfast along with the ones for the guys’ own accounts. Kiki?”
“I’m going to get out and check on tonight’s wardrobe once we pull into the Hall of Fame and I can get on the truck. But I’m thinking we should leave the boys alone to do the casual thing this afternoon, if that works for you.”
Dad nodded. “Fine by me. Just make sure they’re all okay to go on camera—no clothing logos, clean and neat. They’ll get the hang of things, but...”
“Of course. On it,” Kiki said and then looked at me. “If you don’t mind waiting, I can go shopping with you.”
I nodded, happy for the company, especially in a strange city. “No problem. While you’re doing the wardrobe thing, I’ll familiarize myself with Linda’s files and make a list of what we need.” I turned back to my dad. “And I’ll make sure we’re back from shopping in time for sound check.”
He smiled and I could see the pride in his eyes which made me feel weird. I wasn’t doing anything other than what needed to be done, but it still felt nice knowing he thought I was doing a good job. Not a Linda-caliber job, I was sure, but good enough to take the pressure off him so he could focus on the boys and the eight million things that were his responsibility.
“Great,” he said and was about to say something else when a chorus of whoops and laughter came from the front of the bus.
He stood up and reached for the curtain.
“At least it’s not fighting,” Kiki said, all seriousness.
“Still only day two,” Dad said sardonically before he pulled the curtain back and left the office, raising his voice to cut through the boys’. “Hey, hey, what’s going on up here?”
Kiki rolled her eyes. “Boys. Can’t live with them. Can’t make a living without them.”
Sandy and I laughed. “You love it,” Sandy said.
Kiki twisted up her lips into a smirk. “Of course I do. Though I’m starting to think I’m getting too old for this life. I need to find someone and settle down. Get the picket fence and all.” She blew her flat and non-styled bangs off her forehead. “Go back to brown hair before it all goes gray.”
I glanced up at her electric blue locks. “I can’t even imagine you with brown hair.”
She laughed. “Even my own mother wouldn’t recognize me.” But then her eyes got a bit sad. “But maybe it’s time. Get a salon job in the suburbs. Cut hair for soccer moms.”
“Don’t you dare!” Sandy said, obviously scandalized by the thought.
“You’re telling me you’d give up all this?” I asked. I’d never really thought about Kiki having such domestic goals.
“Maybe. I’d like to have someone steady, you know? It’s hard to have relationships when you’re always off on tour. Remember, I don’t just work for your dad—this is my seventh back-to-back tour. It gets old and it’s a bit concerning that I barely remember my home address anymore.”
“Seriously?” Sandy asked.
Kiki shrugged and then winked at me. “Maybe I’ll just keep things simple and marry your dad.”
My mouth fell open as I thought about Linda and my father, still not sure what was going on between them.
Kiki burst out laughing. “Oh you should see your face, Nessa. What’s wrong, scared to have me as your stepmom?”
“Terrified,” I said, feeling stupid for believing her for even a second. Though, in my defense, I did have reason to wonder about my dad’s love life.
I pondered if she knew anything about my dad’s relationship with Linda. I might have asked her, but not with him only a curtain away.
Speaking of: “Everyone’s decent up here,” he said as he pulled the curtain across. “We’re going to head on in.” Dad held his hand out to me and dropped a keychain with the iconic Rolling Stones logo on it into my open palm. “When you’re ready, lock up and join us.”
I’m Not a Poster Child
After breakfast, we returned to the bus and rode the final stretch into town. The guys used the time to pack up their gym gear and what they’d need for the rest of the day. When we arrived at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, a van (that had been pre-arranged—thank you, Linda) showed up to take them to the local YMCA.
A couple of the guys moaned a little, but staying fit and having time out of the spotlight was one of the things my dad thought was an important part of keeping the guys focused and healthy. After this many years and being behind so many successful musicians, he knew what he was doing.
Kiki left to unload the guys’ clothes for the rest of the day into the backstage area inside the Hall of Fame. Dad went with her to start directing the crew on stage setup. Sandy had gone with him to take a few preliminary shots, but would come back to cut her video from the night before.
As I was going through Linda’s files in earnest at the back of the bus, Gary sat across from me, drinking a chamomile tea and working at his laptop.
“Aren’t you going to head to bed?” I asked him as the front door closed with a snick, leaving us alone on the quiet bus. Now that it was parked for the day, I’d thought Gary would have taken a shower and rolled into his bunk. I was desperate for a shower myself, but figured I’d let him go first so he could hit the hay.
He smiled at me, looking exhausted. “Soon. With them being gone all day, I’ll have a good stretch to rest. I might even take in the show tonight. I just want to check in with
Sarah.” Sarah was his wife of many years. I often wondered how she felt about his crazy schedule and being gone for weeks at a time, but he’d worked for Dad for forever, so obviously they worked it out.
“What time will we pull out to Chicago?” I asked.
“After the gig, but it’s less than a six-hour drive, so an easier one tonight—we have wiggle room on the schedule in case we don’t get on the road right away. The first gigs always mean a slower rollout.”
I nodded and looked down at the file when a text came in to my phone.
It was from Linda. Just got word from the printer that the new posters are ready. They sent a shipment to the HoF—should be there waiting for you.
So that was exciting. I hadn’t seen the final proof but knew they’d chosen a photo of the whole band from the shoot we’d done in Times Square. The posters we’d given out at the Brooklyn gig had been generic ones of the album cover while we waited for the new ones to get printed. Awesome, I’ll get them.
Get the guys to sign as many as you can. Esp for the fan event today.
I will, thx for the heads up.
How are things going?
I was relieved to have a good answer for her. Great! All running smoothly thanks to your planning and files. How are YOU?
Glad to hear, she sent back. I’m ok. On pain meds, but going a bit crazy already. Keep me posted?
Of course, I sent.
Your dad says you’re doing great btw.
Thanks, I sent back. I haven’t done much.
Don’t sell yourself short. It will get crazy but you got this. Let me know if I can help, ok?
Yes, I typed and then hovered my keys over my phone. I’m really sorry.
Stop blaming yourself, Nessa. Accident!
I sent her a smiley face.
Must go. Sleepy. Dont med and text.
Take care, I sent back.
The rest of the morning was uneventful; Gary took a shower and climbed into his bunk, then I took one, happy to finally feel human again. Once I was dressed, I returned to the office and continued to work on my itineraries, using Linda’s files to prepare my own lists of things I needed to do and buy.
Sandy came back to the bus and joined me at the table, putting on her headphones to work on her videos. Once Kiki returned from getting the boys sorted for their afternoon, Sandy left to take more footage of them.
Kiki and I went shopping and had fun; I was almost able to forget that I was working and would have another twelve or so hours ahead of me.
Once we returned from the mall, it was too early for Kiki to start getting the boys ready, but I wanted to find them and get them started on signing the posters, so I left her at the bus with all of my purchases (except the new pack of Sharpies and bag of rubber bands I’d bought) and headed into the Hall of Fame.
I found the administration office and the receptionist told me she’d already had someone from the facilities management team take the posters to a meeting room. She said the boys were probably somewhere in the museum, taking in the exhibits, but she could have them paged if I needed them. I told her that wasn’t necessary and just got directions from her on how to find the meeting room.
Eager to see the posters, I made my way there, texting my dad as I did. Heading to the meeting room—posters are in. bring the guys to sign for tonight.
He responded almost immediately. Be there in 10.
I felt like I should wait for him to be there before I opened the posters, but I couldn’t help myself once I got to the meeting room and saw the two large boxes with Dad’s name on them. I told myself that I was his fill-in tour manager and I had every right to open them right away. It was part of my job, after all.
Using the bus key that was still in my pocket, I scored the tape on the first box and held my breath as I pulled up the flaps.
Under a sheet of blank newsprint lay the stack of shiny posters. I pulled the top one out and held it up.
“Whoa,” fell from my mouth as I took in the poster. I’d been expecting it to be from Times Square, but it was actually a scene from the shoot at Central Park (the one Sandy and I hadn’t made it to). The boys were arranged along the railing of the iconic Bow Bridge with the park and skyscrapers behind them acting as the backdrop.
The background was interesting but had been blurred a little, softened enough to draw my eyes to the focal point: the five guys at the center of the poster. They stood close together in a pose, arms crossed, serious faces, and intense eyes staring at the camera. If I let myself, I could almost believe they were staring at me.
Graeme, the tallest and the lead singer, was in the middle, then to his left was Darren, with Andres on the end. Max was beside Graeme on the right, Dave beside him.
My eyes swept over the guys, taking in the details, from Andres’s square, shadowed jaw, to Dave’s bedroom eyes, and Max’s rigid stance, to the tiniest smirk turning up the right side of Darren’s mouth, and Graeme’s messy hair that looked like he’d just dragged his fingers through it.
Damn, they were a fine looking crew. I had no idea how much Rex had needed to Photoshop to get the poster to look so perfect, but it didn’t matter—what did was that this poster was perfect. Exactly the kind of swoonworthy thing that was going to end up on bedroom walls all over the country.
My heart raced and not just because I was the first to see the posters, either. I almost couldn’t drag my eyes away, which is probably why I didn’t notice anyone entering the room.
“How do they look?” Darren said, scaring the hell out of me as he came up behind me and put his hands on my upper arms to peek over my shoulder. “Hey, wow that looks great!”
The rest of the guys, Sandy and my dad piled into the room, talking and laughing. A hush fell over them as they saw the poster.
“These turned out amazing!” Sandy exclaimed, breaking the spell. Her eyes lit up as she leaned into me to take it in. “I love the contrast of the muted background with the sharpness of the guys in the foreground. And the buildings really give it that New York feel.”
“Brilliant!” Graeme said as he took another from the box. “Rex is a bloody magician! Is this truly us?”
Dad chuckled but was obviously pleased. “It is you. And you’re right about Rex, though I think his talented assistant did the final cuts on the posters. You boys do clean up nice, though, no denying that.”
Don’t feed their egos! I wanted to yell, even though I had to admit (if only in my head) that Dad was right.
Max exhaled and something in it drew my attention. Funny how I could detect a tone in his sigh. He looked displeased; more than usual, I mean.
“What?” I asked, my back up instantly. He’d been coached by my Dad and Linda about his broody attitude and he had been better, but sometimes his pessimism and sour moods still got to me.
He looked over at Dave. “No offense, but...” He looked back at me when Dave nodded. “I just think...Chris should be the one in the posters.”
Like a blanket had been thrown over them, dousing their excitement, the energy suddenly drained from the room.
I looked at my father to take this.
He nodded. “Look. No one is happy about what happened to Chris, but until he gets better and joins us, we need to think strategically and launch with a bang—that’s the best thing we can do for him. This is a business and we can’t afford to put things on hold waiting for him, nor do I think he would want us to. We’ll use the posters we shot before he got sick when he returns.”
“Tony’s right,” Dave added, not looking the least bit offended, which was a huge relief. “We have to move forward. I will admit that I’m jacked about this opportunity, but I never would have wished for someone to get sick for me to get it. Hell, I didn’t even want it until it was in my lap.” He smirked at me and I knew he was thinking of all the times I’d tried (unsuccessfully) to nag him into auditioning.
He went on. “My gig with you guys is a temporary one—I know that and I’m not trying to take anything away f
rom Chris. Believe me.”
Dad clapped his big palm on Dave’s back. “Well said.”
After a moment, Max nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“Well that’s all very nice,” Darren said but then pointed at the poster, at Dave’s image specifically. “But did you have to make him look so damn pretty? Chris is cute, sure, but Dave...” he fanned himself and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as he took a deep breath.
Everyone laughed.
“Fine, fine,” Dad said, grabbing the Sharpies and tearing the package open. “You’re here to do more than make jokes and gawk at yourselves on posters.”
“Jealous?” Darren muttered.
Dad lifted an amused eyebrow but said nothing as he handed out Sharpies. “Get signing, boys. Your meet and greet with those radio contest winners is in just a few hours. Still plenty to do before that.”
The guys took seats at the table and started an assembly line, starting with Sandy who handed each poster to Darren to sign first before he passed it along. I was at the other end of the line, rolling up the completed posters as Max finished with them, wrapping a rubber band around each so they’d be easy to give out.
They got into a rhythm and signed as they chatted about the exhibits out in the museum hall. I’d been to the Hall of Fame before, but it was the first time for all the guys and it was great to listen to them talking about their favorite exhibits and how cool it had been for them to learn about the musicians that had inspired them to take up music. It seemed very fitting that this was one of their first venues, sort of like the birthplace to their careers. Maybe one day they’d get inducted and have their own exhibit.
“Hey Tony, do we need both boxes signed?” Sandy asked as she got to the bottom of the stack of posters in the first box.
“Yeah, please,” Dad said absently. He was sitting on the other side of the table, scrolling through his phone.
I could have answered Sandy if she’d asked me. There were a lot of posters, definitely enough to give out to the fan event and then some, but we wanted everyone at tonight’s concert to leave with one. Getting news about the band to go viral was what we were aiming for, especially if we could do it near the beginning of the tour. Giving out free posters so girls could drool about the boys and tell their friends was an easy and relatively cheap way to get the word out.
Going on Tour Page 3