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A reporter and his cameraman pushed through the crowd, getting in front of the four security guys we had around us.
With short brown hair and dark glasses, the reporter shoved his mic in my face as his colleague stood behind him.
“Are you the band’s rep? Can we get a statement? How long are Wayward Lane here in town?”
I looked at Regan and nodded. Then I turned to the reporter. “No cameras for this part. Just you.”
Regan stepped forward and waved the reporter through, telling his cameraman to stay where he was. Neither guy seemed happy given the circumstances but tough shit.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted blue and red flashing lights flickering in the distance.
Regan stayed with her team, and I ushered the reporter into the foyer so I could hear above the din.
I loved a good party as much as the next person, but down here, things got wild. The last time we did a concert here, the afterparty alone had gone on for two days.
I held out my hand. “Ivan Cross, I’m—”
“The band’s manager, I know,” the reporter replied and shook my hand, a cocky grin on his face. “You’re always in pictures with Brodie and his security team. You work very closely with him, right?”
I ignored that question. I was his manager, so my work with Brodie was self-explanatory.
And if it wasn’t, it was none of this guy’s business.
I cleared my throat. “The concert Wayward Lane’s hosting on Halloween was an unscheduled event based on the band’s interest. The guys loves this city and the fans here. All the proceeds from the concert will be donated to a local charity that focuses on helping low-income families throughout the year, especially at Thanksgiving. If you’d like to conduct an interview with the band after the concert, please contact me to book it in advance.”
I pulled a business card out of my back pocket and handed it over.
The reporter did the same.
“Sorry, I forgot my intro. I’m Beau St. Germain, the entertainment reporter for Channel 10 News. A pleasure.”
I nodded. “You too, Beau. If you want a formal interview with the band, fire off an email and I’ll add you to the schedule.”
“I’ll do that, Ivan. And I’ll look forward to meeting you again on the thirty-first.” He smiled. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” I motioned to the door again.
Beau glanced back at the lobby. No way in hell was I going to let him in to see the guys now.
I pushed open the front door for him. Beau shifted his gaze to look at me again and nodded.
Thick humidity and the barrage of noise hit me full force. Regan greeted us, and the reporter made his way back through the crowd.
“We okay?” I asked Regan.
“Police have arrived, so I’m coordinating with them. It’s probably best if the band leaves by the back entrance tonight. I know they like to see the fans but let’s leave it until the concert. I don’t feel good about letting them out in this. There are too many people who are drunk as fuck already. I’ve also called up some of my staff who were on leave today, just in case.”
“Sounds good. I’m heading back in. They’ve got a private party at ten tonight; we all set for that?”
Regan nodded. “I’ve been in touch with the organizer.”
I left Regan to deal with the nightmare outside while I ventured back to deal with the one inside.
Not that watching the band rehearse was a nightmare, far from it.
The power going off, however, was definitely a pain in my ass.
Not only that, I didn’t trust myself with Brodie. My professional mask was getting harder and harder to wear.
