He bombarded Malcolm with questions about bands, drumming, and being rich and famous. “Did you seriously date Paisley Parker? She’s hot but seems whacked.” “Who do you think is the best drummer of all time?” “What’s the dumbest thing you ever blew money on?”
Corey was undeterred by Malcolm’s monotone answers or the fact that Malcolm was slumped so far down on the couch that he was practically lying down, taking and posting selfies. The whole dynamic would have been entertaining if it wasn’t so exhausting.
Mandy and Nathan were off getting friendly on the dance floor. They hadn’t reached “get a room” status, but it was obvious they’d rather not be interrupted.
Pool lights shimmered under the water, making it gleam aqua blue against the darkness. Dance music with a Latin twist heated up the crowd and the club.
Suddenly Malcolm righted himself and looked alert for the first time all night. “Be right back.” He got up and disappeared somewhere behind me.
I braced myself as Corey took a long swig of iced tea. “So do you think you can get us backstage passes for tomorrow?”
Yuck. “How about the meet and greet?” I suggested.
“Thanks, but we want to hang out and, like, kick it in the dressing room.”
“Ookaaayy. What do you think happens in the dressing room?” I was genuinely curious. Because what I’d seen involved fighting over clothes and food, not unlike an eighth-grade slumber party.
“Come on. That’s where the real dope shit happens, right?”
I was so done with this guy. “Maybe for some bands…”
“Whatever. I’ll ask Malcolm when he gets back.” And apparently he was done with me too.
—
A couple of hours later, Mandy and I sat in the back of Nathan’s car with Malcolm passed out over our laps.
“I don’t understand what happened,” I said.
“He spent the whole night at the bar.”
“But if you saw him, why didn’t you say something?” I’d just assumed he’d ditched us. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed him.
Mandy sighed. “The bartender was young and hot, and she recognized him. I thought he was just flirting. I had no idea she was serving him.”
I groaned. I just wanted to go to bed.
“I’ll run our stuff up to the room so we have less to carry. Give me two minutes.” Mandy gave Nathan an unnecessarily long kiss. I cleared my throat.
When she returned, I pushed while she tried to pull Malcolm to a sitting position. Instead he slid off the seat onto the floor.
“I feel like I’m trying to roll him for loose change,” I said. “He’s solid muscle. He must weigh seven hundred pounds.”
“He’s not that heavy,” Nathan said, laughing. “I’ll help.”
“Where are we even moving him to? Do you know who he’s rooming with?” I asked Mandy.
She shook her head. “Let’s bring him to our room.”
Nathan slid his arm under Malcolm and hoisted him up, slinging one of Malcolm’s arms over his shoulder.
“Could we make it look like he’s mostly walking on his own?” I had no idea who was in the lobby, and Sam would feel obligated to get on our cases if he saw this online.
Nathan nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”
Mandy and I walked directly in front, to lead him but also to shield Malcolm from view. We got into an empty elevator and breathed a group sigh of relief.
We got to our room and looked at each other. “Key card?” I asked.
“Nope. You?”
“Seriously? You just went to the room!”
“I know! And I put everything inside!” Comprehension dawned. “Whoops.” Hormones made people stupid.
Nathan was starting to buckle under Malcolm’s dead weight. “Sorry. He is heavier than he looks.”
I clenched my teeth and glared at Mandy. “I’ll get a key.”
Mandy slipped under Malcolm’s other arm while I sprinted back to the elevator.
“Hi,” I said to the guy at the front desk. “I’m locked out of my room. Twenty-four oh five?”
He looked at me with zero interest. “Can I see your ID?”
“I don’t have it on me. Can you call Rob Chang’s room?”
He typed a few things and then held the phone to his ear while staring over my head. “No answer,” he said after a minute. Mandy had locked my phone in the room along with all our other stuff, so I didn’t have anyone’s cell numbers handy.
“What about Beckett Moore?” I asked.
The guy gave me a knowing look and didn’t bother searching the computer. “We don’t have a guest by that name.”
I sighed and looked over my shoulder, wishing that someone in the band or crew would pass by. No such luck. “Look, maybe you recognize me? I’m the new lead singer for Melbourne?”
Front desk guy shook his head. “I don’t know much about them.”
“Well, you know they’re staying here—we, we’re staying here. And I need to talk to someone in the band or crew.”
“Sorry, miss, I can’t give out guest information.”
“Can you look me up? I have a profile page on Melbourne’s website. Will that be good enough to ID me?” Is there anything more pompous than asking a stranger to Google you?
He looked skeptical but started typing. He squinted at the computer screen, then at me. “This doesn’t really look like you.”
“It’s called Photoshop. But trust me, it’s me. And I really have to get into my room. We have a big show at the Fillmore tomorrow. If I get you two great seats and passes to the meet and greet, will you let me in?”
He looked around. The other front desk person was busy with another guest. “Make it four. And can I sell them online?”
That was ballsy, but I was desperate. “I don’t care what you do.”
“I’ll let you in and then you produce your ID right away. If you can’t, we come back downstairs and you leave the hotel.”
“Deal.”
The rest of that transaction was drama-free, thank God. Unless you count walking out of the elevator to see Malcolm sitting slumped against the wall and Mandy and Nathan making out, pressed up to our door. Awkward. I took front desk guy’s name and promised to leave his passes downstairs in the morning.
“Good call keeping him upright,” I said. “In case he pukes.” I really knew how to enhance the romance in any situation.
Mandy pried her lips off of Nathan’s. “That’s what we were thinking. Okay, let’s get him inside.”
Since we weren’t big partyers, Mandy and I had no idea what we were doing. Nathan talked us out of putting Malcolm into the bathtub and turning the shower on. “They only do that in movies, for, like, crack addicts,” Nathan said. “Let him sleep it off, but not on his back. He’ll know what to do when he wakes up. That didn’t look like his first time working a bar.”
We put Malcolm in my bed, and then I went to the bathroom to give Mandy and Nathan time to say a private goodbye. When I came back out, they still had their arms around each other. “Tell Corey we’ll see you guys tomorrow night,” Mandy said. She smiled as the door closed behind him.
“Well, that almost went as planned,” I said.
“Chelsea, you’re the best—best wingman, best everything. Malcolm has nothing on you.” She came over and enveloped me in a hug, which almost made me not want to kill her. “I can’t believe he was so bored he practically drank himself to death.”
We looked at him. He was starting to snore. At least we knew he was still breathing.
16
Bands always described themselves as dysfunctional families, and after yesterday I understood why.
“Can you go wake Malcolm up? He’s sleeping on the bus, but I’m afraid. He smells disgusting.” Mandy pantomimed retching. We were in the production office, where she was trying to cobble together the passes we needed to accommodate everyone who’d participated in Malcolm’s Ballin’ Night Out. Pem had lots of family coming, so he’d tak
en all of the band passes.
“Why do I have to? Where’s Rob?” With things like this it seemed only fair that actual family should draw the short straw.
Mandy dropped her face into her hands. “Dealing with show security. The venue wants us to pay for more because it’s a heavy-drinking crowd. Since Miami’s a vacation spot, everyone’s ready to cut loose.”
Wonderful. I wouldn’t put it past Malcolm to go big two nights in a row.
The bus was unnervingly quiet. I walked into the sleeping cabin and stuck my hand into Malcolm’s bunk approximately where I thought his ankle should be. I grabbed it and shook. There was a high-pitched squeal, followed by the curtain snapping open. I peered down at a girl with long, disheveled blond hair and red lips. She was really pretty, even with the murderous gleam in her eye. “Get dressed. Time for sound check!” I yelled past her.
I waited in the lounge, sensing that leaving them alone again was a bad idea. The girl stumbled out first, rumpled but dressed. “I’m Joelle,” she said.
“Fantastic. Malcolm!”
“Jesus Christ. What?” He came out stark-naked.
My hands flew up to cover my eyes. “What is wrong with you?”
I heard kissing noises, murmuring, and then what I hoped was Joelle getting off the bus. “You can open your eyes now,” Malcolm said.
I lowered my hands. He’d only put on underwear, but it was a start. He stood there grinning at me like a complete jackass.
“Weren’t you on death’s door a couple of hours ago?” I asked.
“It’s amazing what Gatorade and Red Bull can do.” He pulled a T-shirt over his head.
“Wow, maybe think about adding a shower to that mix.” Alcohol seeped from his pores. I fanned the smell away.
The bus door opened and Beckett walked in. He stopped short when he saw Malcolm standing in front of me getting his clothes on. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yeah, right.” I didn’t bother to hide my laughter.
Malcolm shook his head. “You could do a lot worse.” He turned to Beckett. “Bartender from last night.”
“Awesome idea to have sex with the girl who almost killed you,” I said.
“Have you never seen a drunk person before?” Malcolm asked.
“Not as drunk as you.”
“That was nothing.”
“Everyone’s looking for you guys,” Beckett said as he walked back out. “You’re late.”
Outside the bus, I caught up to him. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days and he looked a little down. “Everything okay?” I asked. “Lauren stuff?”
He exhaled loudly. “That was rough, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
I wondered what that meant.
Inside the venue, Mandy, Rob, and a couple of stagehands flew by with boxes, scrambling to set up the merch booth. Rob glared at me. “Everything is off schedule. That guest list bullshit ate her entire day.”
“Okay,” I said, confused. I wondered if he was going to get mad at Pem and Malcolm too.
“I told you, it’s not her fault,” Mandy said as she rushed past us.
Beckett looked at me. “I’m starting to be glad that I was MIA all day.”
We walked toward the stage. “Wasn’t Lauren’s flight yesterday?”
“She was so angry, it kind of freaked me out. I just needed to be alone. She’s been sad before, and I know she wants more of a commitment, but I always thought we were ultimately on the same page.”
“You see each other when you swing through the Southeast and then forget about each other the rest of the time? Definitely a love story for the ages.” I wanted him to be smarter and better than that.
“It doesn’t sound like much, but it was great until it wasn’t.”
“Who are they?” I pointed to a preppy gang in the middle of the floor. It looked like Ralph Lauren dropped a bomb on the place.
Beckett glanced down. “Pem’s cousins. He has like a million. I can never remember all their names. Some of them even went to Lowell with us.”
“They flew in for the show?”
Beckett waved his hand. “They all have homes down here. Right near the grandmother.”
Malcolm strolled onstage followed by a very harried-looking Pem. “This show’s going to suck, just so you know,” Beckett whispered. I gave him a quizzical look. “I’m just saying, Malcolm’s wrecked, and Pem has family here. He’s practically guaranteed to be off his game when his family’s around. It’s like he’s embarrassed to be great at something they don’t approve of.”
“Why do they come if they’re so against it?”
“Because. They’re WASPs. They don’t tell him to his face that he should quit. They invite him to tennis and shake their heads in regret when he says he has to protect his wrist for playing. And they always ask him how ‘work’ is, like they want to pretend he has an office job.”
The Fuller cousins listened politely, then applauded at the end of sound check. I did a little curtsy and then went to get ready for the meet and greet. As soon as we were offstage, Gray Matter swooped in to set up. I nodded hello but still didn’t know them at all. Beckett made it a point to watch their set every show. Those poor guys were troupers. They never complained about being second-class citizens. They didn’t get consistent sound checks and weren’t even staying in the same hotel as us. Their budget only allowed for a single room in a dingy, highway-side motel.
I could almost understand that some bands might never accept me because I’d never had to rough it on a van tour. There was a whole band dues-paying thing that I hadn’t gone through. And Melbourne, despite the fact that they were all trust fund kids, did do it the scrappy way. Their cred was so important to them; they never wanted other bands to be able to say that they didn’t earn it. I decided to show some support and watch Gray Matter’s set with Beckett. But first we had the meet and greet.
“We came down early to hang out, but Mandy’s working, so she sent us in here,” Nathan said, coming over to me. Awesome.
Across the crowded room, rogue front-desk guy caught my eye and raised his glass. His date looked like a stripper. Hopefully she, at least, was a Melbourne fan. I didn’t see anyone with them, so I assumed he’d managed to sell the other two tickets.
By the doorway, Rob clapped for attention. “Okay, everyone! Let’s wish these guys a great show and leave them to it!”
I didn’t end up watching Gray Matter with Beckett, because I spent almost up until showtime babysitting Nathan and Corey. I tried to get Rob to escort them to the front of house. “Everyone’s responsible for their own groupies,” he snapped. I was about to tell him that they were Mandy’s groupies, but I didn’t want to get her in trouble.
Onstage, I had no feel for the audience, and my singing was all over the place. Drunk didn’t begin to describe this crowd. The extra security we’d hired had their hands full, pushing people off the barricade so that they wouldn’t get crushed. More than one smashed fan had to be carried off the floor. Beckett even spoke up between songs and asked people to ease up. My parting words of the night were “Don’t drink and drive!” That met with a lot of sarcastic laughter.
Fortunately, Pem’s performance wasn’t good either. Technically he was flawless, as usual, but he was wooden and not all there. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice my flubs.
—
Sam called a band-only meeting on the bus before we were even free to shower. “Show blew,” he said. “I’m not going to ride you too hard about it because Atlanta and Orlando were great. Pem, if you can’t deal with family, I’m going to have Rob ban them. Or at least limit the number.”
“You thought I was bad? What about Malcolm?” Pem asked.
“Dude, my shit was on point,” Malcolm said.
Sam ignored them both. “Chelsea, drunks at shows are a fact. Get used to it.”
“Don’t forget Beckett. He had a bad show too,” Malcolm said. Beckett shot him a nasty look. “What? I’m keeping it real. If we’re going to ca
ll people on the carpet, we shouldn’t be exclusive about it.”
“I never thought I’d be thanking Malcolm for holding the show together, but he totally did tonight. I dig the theatrics,” Sam said.
Malcolm dismissed the compliment, but I could tell he was pleased. “Maybe we should bring Joelle on tour.” He winked at me and I rolled my eyes.
Beckett was already talking with people outside when I headed toward the bus, so I started at the opposite end. Pem stopped on his way to the shower and signed for about every tenth person. Malcolm didn’t appear to be anywhere nearby. So much for starting over with the fans.
Beckett made his way to me. “Sorry about ‘Smash Cut.’ ”
His guitar had sounded slightly off during that song, and it bugged me to the point that I’d walked over and whispered, “One of your strings is out of tune.”
He was already messing with the tuning pegs and said, “I know,” through gritted teeth.
I wasn’t trying to hassle him, but it was like having a mosquito in my ear. I was sure the audience hadn’t noticed, but it yanked me right out of the zone. I moved a little farther down the line. “That’s okay. Basically everything sucked tonight. And no big. You were on it.” I shrugged and Beckett laughed. “How’s it going?” I said to the boy in front of me. “Thanks for coming out.”
“You guys are awesome! You know ‘Parietals’? Every girl at my high school wanted to hook up to that song.”
“Well, aren’t you just the ladies’ man!” It killed me that “Parietals” was still such a crowd-pleaser. Besides being a total Hollis trademark song, it still made me think of Mike Malloy. Beckett had been right, though: it hardly mattered that I didn’t sound great on it, because the fans owned that song and sang it so loudly they drowned me out. I looked at the thing the boy wanted me to sign. “You sure?” I asked.
“Totally,” he said, smirking at me. It was a naked picture of himself. In person, he was puffy, with fair hair and eyebrows and a face red from drinking. The picture wasn’t much better. He reminded me of a pork chop. I scrawled my signature over his privates. “You covered the best part!”
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