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Tali
Michaela,Blue is the Color’s tour manager this time around, passed by where I’d set up camp backstage. Although I always went on tour with the band, my regular duties didn’t cease. There was a constant barrage of emails to answer and contracts to look over before they were forwarded to the correct people.
I gave her a wave. “Hey!”
“Hey, girl.” She stopped in her tracks and tucked her walkie-talkie in the waistband of her jeans. She was adorable, with smooth brown skin, an upturned nose, and long black hair, which she mostly kept tied up in a peppy ponytail. Based on her looks, her pussy, and her age, she often got underestimated, especially by the men she directed on tour—until they got to know her. Not working, she was bubbly and fun. Working, she’d kick anyone’s ass who didn’t do their job to the high level she demanded.
We were both in our thirties and came up in the business at the same time. Women in our positions weren’t common, so we’d developed an immediate bond when we first toured together nearly a decade ago.
When I’d graduated from NYU, I was twenty-three and a little jaded, both from the music business and life. I still wanted to surround myself in music, but I was less sure of my direction. I took a job as an A&R—artist and repertoire—assistant for a mid-size record label I had interned with during my senior year of college.
That job brought me back around to my love of music and musicians, if not the industry. I considered my wariness of the business and its effects on artists a plus. It made me see musicians as people, not products. When I went out to shows, checking out new acts to see if they would be a fit for my label, I always talked to the band after if I found their music even remotely interesting. I normally didn’t tell them who I was, and they’d usually think I was a journalist. Sometimes they thought I was hitting on them, but more often than not, once I opened my mouth to start talking music, they saw what I was after, and it wasn’t their dicks.
I’d sworn off musicians for life. At nineteen, I’d known better, but had gone against my own instincts. But I’d been young and still saw the world through rose-colored glasses.
Those glasses had been shattered at twenty-one on my parents’ front porch when the love of my life was taken away in a police car.
Former love of my life.
“How are things looking?” I asked.
“Smooth as silk, baby.” She winked. “Are the boys getting here soon?”
I checked the time on my phone. The band was due for sound-check in an hour, but they always showed up early to introduce themselves to everyone on this tour.
“Should be here soon. They’re nothing if not punctual.”
She nodded. “All right. Hector’s got his sound crew running lines. He’s got a new guy as his right-hand man this time around.” She snapped her fingers a few times. “His name is escaping me right now, but he seems legit.”
I nodded. “I have seven hundred emails to get through, then I’ll go check out everything.”
She saluted me. “Aye, aye, captain.” Her walkie-talkie beeped, and someone called her name. “My work never ends.” She walked off, answering whoever needed her.
I stayed in my spot, doing research on the deal another band had gotten from a car company for using their song in a commercial. I always liked to keep abreast of the deals going around, so when Blue is the Color received an offer, I had knowledge backing up any counteroffers.
Nina would hate knowing this was what my life was like touring with a rock band. It hadn’talwaysbeen this way, but most of my crazy partying days were behind me. I’d been working for Blue is the Color for seven years now, but they’d been around for fifteen. All of them were married, one had a kid, and another had a baby on the way. They were professional musicians and had done the much-lauded sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll thing years ago.
Hearing the strum of a guitar coming from the stage, I shut down my laptop and stowed it in my messenger bag. I’d kicked off my ankle boots an hour or two ago, so I slid my feet back in and went to investigate whether my boys had arrived.
The stage was crowded with people milling about, doing their jobs. My eyes snagged on Nick, the lead singer, testing out his guitar, then Jasper, picking up his bass. David, off to the side, holding his guitar by the neck as he spoke on the phone—probably to his wife, Sylvia, back home. Ian, stoic as always, behind the drums, spinning his sticks along his knuckles.
Hector was in front of Nick, adjusting something. This was an area I didn’t get involved in. Hector had worked on all of Blue is the Color’s tours; he knew their sound. In his hands, I could relax and know it would all be okay.
I walked up to them, giving Nick a nod. “Hey. How was your flight?”
He shrugged. “Got us here in one piece. Guess it was all right.”
“Everything good out here?”
He nodded, scanning the stage and rows and rows of empty seats in front of him. “Yeah. It’s hard to believe we’re back here. Two years is a long fucking time to go without touring.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”
He huffed a laugh. “Funny. No, I’m not nervous. Rusty as hell, though. Hoping I remember how to do this.”
Jasper came over, nudging Nick with his shoulder. “Like riding a bike, man.”
I smiled, because everyone smiled when Jasper was around, and let him wrap me in a warm hug. “Hey, Tali.”
