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She motioned for the shuttle driver to go without her.
“You sure?” he called.
She gave him a thumbs up. The door shut, and he pulled out of the parking lot.
Holy shit. I’m going to make twelve grand for a few days of work.
This is insane.
Micky’s not going to believe this.
“Who’s the band?” she asked. “Have I ever heard of them?”
Martin’s expression shuttered. “Does it matter?”
“Not one little bit.” She reached out a hand, and he shook it. “My bus just left so this might be a really bad question, but am I starting now?”
He glanced at her suitcase. “Right now.”
“Cool. Let me just grab my snacks, and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Is that enough time for you to write up a contract?”
Martin’s eyes crinkled when he grinned, and she knew he liked her. “You won’t get contracts until I’m back in my office in LA.” A sleek black town car pulled up alongside them.
“Other than an employment agreement, what other contract are we talking about?”
“You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
“So, this is a big band? Famous?”
“It wouldn’t matter what level. You’d need an NDA to work with any band.”
The driver of the car opened the passenger side window. “Martin Branson?”
He nodded and held up a finger before returning to Della. “Okay, I’ll be in touch.”
“Well, wait. What do I do while I’m waiting for the contracts?”
“There are only two guys on the bus, and they both have their own bedrooms, so you’ve got your pick of the bunk beds. Watch TV, read, make an espresso. Write up that business plan.”
“There are only two band members? What is this, Hall and Oates? Simon and Garfunkel?”
With a grin and a shake of his head, he picked up his leather overnight bag and got into the backseat of the sleek, black sedan. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Black Keys?” she called after him. “Pet Shop Boys?”
Martin laughed and waved goodbye as the car headed out.
“This feels sketchy.” Della turned to the bus driver. “Is it sketchy? Here I am thinking rock band, but maybe it’s a band of thieves or a band of strippers.”
“Until you sign an NDA, they won’t tell you a thing. Go get your snacks. We’ve got a venue to get to.”
Della dashed into the store, immediately pulling out her phone and calling Micky. After catching her up on the last fifteen minutes, she said, “Venue, nondisclosure agreements, twelve thousand dollars…holy shit, Mick, what is happening?” There were three men on that bus. The driver and two band members. “Am I insane to do this?
“You might be. I’m completely freaking out. This is crazy.”
With her cold drinks and snacks, Della got in line. “In the event of my untimely disappearance, I’m going to send you a photo of the bus’s license plate.”
“Not funny. Isn’t there any clue who the band is? There must be something.”
