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19
CAILIN MCCALL TRIES TO FOCUS ON HER JOB, BUT FAILS
CAILIN
Jax hasme all hot and bothered, and by the end of our conversation, I hang up the phone craving him. But now, I have to snap out of this alternate reality I’m living in and get off the tour bus because we’ve arrived at the venue. Although it was a short ride, everyone seems eager to stretch their legs. There’s a new energy radiating around as we gather together and start working in our respective roles.
I realize this is the first time ever that I’mwiththe boy band. I’m a part of the magic, a member of the team, one of the inside people I used to envy. I have my clipboard with a list of attending media in my hand and make my way to find the head of security so I can submit the guest list. There are a lot of big-name reporters and celebrities coming out tonight, since this is not only the first show of the tour, but also takes place in the Los Angeles market. I’m pretty nervous actually. It’s my job to make sure there are no issues with arrival, and everyone who was promised a guest pass makes it to the list. But I triple-checked it and also had an intern on our team look at it, so I know I made every preparation.
Harry finds me. “There you are. How’s the guest list coming along?”
I hold up my clipboard with pride and Harry nods in approval.
“Interesting,” Harry says.
“What’s interesting?” I didn’t find any of the requests to be surprising.
“This one.” Harry points to a name I’m not familiar with. I figured she is a personal friend or family of someone on the crew because her name was sent over from Carlos. She apparently comes backstage to all the shows.
“Brenda.” Harry rubs his forehead. “She’s a friend of Chris, the tour drummer. But she’s a handful and is always hitting on Jax. I thought we weren’t going to grant her access after what happened last tour.”
Well, that got my attention. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry. My colleague, Carlos, sent me over her name to add her to the list. She sent her request to him.”
“It’s fine,” Harry tells me as we walk. “Neither of you would know. I guess Jax forgot to add a list of people he doesn’t want backstage.”
“I see. Is that list lengthy?”
“Nah, just the stalkers and groupies who always try to get backstage without winning a contest. Dedicated fans, really. Harmless.”
“Got it. Well, no more unwelcome women on my watch, you have my word. I’ll run the guest list by you each night.”
I hand over the guest list to the front door, turn around, and run smack into Hayley.
“Oh! Sorry, Hayley.”
“I’m sorry, too! I didn’t see you through all these T-shirts.” Hayley is holding a mound of merch.
“Here, let me help you,” I say.
“Thanks. I want to set up early so I can head to the hotel and shower. Are you gonna go over or hang out here ’til the show?”
“Do you see me?” I point to myself in shambles. “I need to get myself together before I meet the pop royalty that’s coming out tonight. The guest list made my jaw drop.”
“I forgot this is your first tour. I’m so used to it by now. I gave up trying to impress everyone and now just dress how I’m comfortable. I’m selling merch, not designer clothes, ya know?”
“I love that you own it,” I tell Hayley. And I mean it. There’s an air about her that says she doesn’t give a flip about what anyone thinks. She’s confident and secure in jeans and a band-shirt, and honestly looks fierce. Go, girl.
We arrive at the merch area and both breathe sighs of relief as we place the T-shirts down. It appears that this is the last of them because Hayley already has a ton of boxes in her area. I pull one of the shirts out of a box and open it up.
“What do these shirts say?” I ask.
“There are a few different ones. One with the tour dates, one for the album, and then some fun ones for the super fans.” Hayley points to the white T-shirt in my hand that says, “I Love (heart-shape) Jax Slater.” I feel like my secret was just revealed and for a split-second panic.
“Do you?” While I was tuned out, Hayley asked me a question. Oh gosh, was she asking me if I love Jax?
The puzzled look on my face prompts Hayley to repeat her question. “Do you want a shirt? It’s yours.”
I feel relieved. Yes, I’ll take a shirt. And yes, maybe it’s true. “Totally. If I can have one of each, I’ll be sure to wear them and post pics. I am the publicist after all,” I remind both Hayley and myself.
