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He took another drink of coffee without commenting, but at least he had a smile on his face. She’d take that as a win.
After a minute, he asked, “How do you normally load your suitcases on the bus?”
“We usually carry them ourselves. We aren’t quite famous enough to have people at our every beck ‘n call. Hell, last year before we got this headlining spot, we had to assemble and disassemble our own equipment at every stop, load it on and off the bus, and duct tape anything that broke. Our bus was a piece of shit that we had to buy ourselves. At least this year we’ve ‘made it’ enough that we have a road crew to help with equipment, and the label provided a nice bus for us. Plus a bus for the crew.”
The crew’s rooms were on the next floor down and they parked their bus out back alongside the band’s. Their opening bands had their own traditionally crappy buses and pulled out to head toward the next venue last night.
Ryker looked surprised. “Is that normal in the music industry?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty standard. Until you make it big enough, you bust your ass and pool your resources. Once you sell enough albums to headline, the label gets more generous. This tour — especially getting a hotel suite and not sleeping in the bus or crappy motel rooms — is luxurious compared to what we’re used to.”
“Interesting.”
Ryker set down his coffee and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He fired off a text, then tucked the phone back into his pocket.
“Whatcha doing?” Jade asked.
“I requested that Benny arrange a luggage cart and load everyone’s stuff onto the bus before we head down.”
“Practical.”
“Necessary.”
Jade noticed Lyra’s breath even out against her shoulder and realized her bestie had fallen asleep again.
Bex’s door opened and she walked out of her room, straight to the coffeemaker. She had a light head-scarf tied around her hair instead of spiking it that early.
“Morning, peeps,” Bex said.
“Morning.”
She brewed her coffee then stood there drinking it like a lifeline, not speaking another word.
Polly already had her space buns in place.
Maggie, their quiet keyboardist, walked in behind Polly, her black hair loose around her shoulders. Maggie never drank coffee; she said it made her jittery.
They set their suitcases and duffel bags down with the others.
Tawny followed close behind.
“Chop chop, ladies. Time to get out the door. Grab your bags and let’s go.”
“Bags are taken care of,” Ryker said.
“But —”
Someone knocked on the door, which then opened with a keycard. Ryker’s team filed in — Roark, Drake, and Diesel, followed by Benny, who pulled a luggage cart behind him.
The knock woke Lyra. She rubbed her face and sat up.
“You’re going to spoil them,” Tawny said.
“It’s a safety precaution. If there’s an altercation outside, their hands need to be free for maneuverability,” Ryker said.
Tawny made a frustrated noise in her throat but said nothing further.
Benny and Drake grabbed the bags and quickly loaded them onto the cart.
