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“I see that worked out well for you. But why not?”
“I didn’t see him for three years, so I was moderately successful. I needed to leave him before he left me. Eventually, everyone leaves, Serge.”
Eight
Every morning while the band was on tour, I would send Connor a voicemail letting him know where he was, what his day looked like, and any other important reminders. He said this helped ‘acclimate’ him to his location and ‘keep him on track’ with everything. To be fair, since he was doing this without a label, and another interim manager, he had a lot of moving pieces to keep track of, all while performing and meeting fans. The rest of the guys got a separate, less tedious voicemail.
This also meant I had daily meetings with Jo, who was trying to keep things handled on the ground. Connor’s sister was a feisty one, but she was having trouble with the idea of filling Kyle’s shoes, as they had been good friends.
“My brother is an absolute nightmare to work with,” she said via video call about three weeks into the tour. “I don’t know how people do it.”
“What did he do now?” I asked as I put lunch down in front of Wyatt.
“Did you know he has a ‘lucky’ shirt?”
I did a quick mental breakdown of things he had brought up over the last few weeks. “He hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Well, it’s MIA. He wants you to track it down.”
“Fun. What does it look like? It must have gotten left behind when I had the laundry done in Phoenix.”
“It’s black.”
“That’s it? It’s black?”
“It’s a black t-shirt. He’s had it since forever. I thought the rumors of his attachment to this shirt were exaggerated, but I heard Kyle once had ten others ordered and on hand and every time Connor knew they weren’t ‘the one’, so now we have to find this stupid shirt.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. I guess I’ll be making some phone calls. You’re sure it isn’t mixed in with someone else’s laundry or lost on the bus somewhere?”
“Mish and I tore the place apart yesterday. It’s not here.”
Sergio walked behind Jo and waved.
“Hey, Serge. You steal Connor’s shirt?”
“I used that shirt as a prank years ago, and Connor lost his shit. I haven’t touched it since.” Serge pushed in closer to the screen.
“This shirt is that old? What’s so special about it?” I asked.
“No one knows. He just likes that one,” Jo answered with a shrug.
I glanced at Sergio, my brows raising teasingly. “So, you two hooking up with all the ladies?”
“No one is getting more ass than Tom on this trip,” Serge replied, defeated. “But based on attitude alone, Jo seems to get the least.” He gave her a playful punch in the arm.
She rolled her eyes. “Get out of here, you brat.”
“One more thing, Cee.” Sergio pushed his way in front of the camera. “I need more bedtime stories.”
“Like, books? You’ve already finished the ones you had?” I’d loaded his e-reader with ten before I left the tour the first week.
“Yeah, pick me out some more?”
“Easier than finding a missing black t-shirt, I suppose,” I sighed. Serge just nodded and walked offscreen.
“Bedtime stories?” Jo asked.
“Did you know our friend Serge has a thing for romance novels?”
