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“This is the biggest thing to ever happen to me. I can’t believe I’m actually standing here with all this…” I gesture with a wide sweep of my arm around the enormous space. “…all this going on around me. It’s a dream come true.”
I look around the warehouse and notice there’s a huge stage set up at the very back of the space, a few rooms sectioned off on one side that look like dressing rooms. A group of guys I vaguely recognize are gathered together up near the stage, toying with knobs on guitars and chatting among themselves.
Reed’s just about to say something else when one of the guys notices us walking toward them and they all look up and stare.
Recognition suddenly washes over me. I make some weird kind of squeal/gasp/choke sound and Reed laughs when he notices what’s caught my attention. I try and divert my eyes, but dammit if they don’t just plain ignore my directives.
“Hey guys,” he says. “I want you to meet Brinley Thomas. She’s our support act forGoodbye NY.” I offer a really lame finger wave and Reed points to them all in turn. “Quinn Tanner, electric guitar. Kael Jenkins, bass, and our drummer, Jaxon King.”
“Hey, how’s it going?” says Kael, holding out his massive hand in introduction. He leans forward, and I can clearly smell the stale stench of liquor on his breath. He smells like he’s downed a bottle of vodka for breakfast, and his pupils look remarkably small for someone standing in such a well-lit room.
I take his hand and his tight grip just about breaks my knuckles. I wince. “Ouch.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he says, letting my hand fall away again. He looks over at the other guys and chuckles devilishly. “You’re not going to sue me, are you?”
He bursts out laughing and I internally cringe. Was I being naïve to think they wouldn’t know who I was? Of course they would. Why wouldn’t they? I guess I brought this whole mess on myself, so I should just wear it like a badge of honor.
“No,” I say with a sugary-sweet smile. “But we’ve only just met, and the day is young.”
Jaxon shakes my hand. “Thanks for not totally destroying us. Really appreciate it.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Reed grumbles, shaking his head.
Jaxon looks at Reed, genuinely perplexed. “What’s up your ass?”
“Youare what’s up my ass, Jax. And trust me; it’s starting to get real uncomfortable because you’re up there so fucking often.”
Reed’s expression is hard to decipher, but he follows his words with a long groan when Kael starts laughing, which abruptly stops when Reed turns a dark glare his way.
“And don’t even get me started on you,” he growls. He snatches a handful of Kael’s sweatshirt between his fingers, pulling him in closer until their faces are barely separated by a few inches. “You stink like death, man. Did you even take a shower this morning? Where did you end up last night anyway?”
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
“This band is my business!” Reed’s voice climbs in protest. “If you screw this tour up for us I will never forgive you.”
Quinn steps forward. “Okay, that’s enough from the both of you,” he says, placing a hand on each of his bandmates’ chests. “We have company, in case you’ve forgotten. Let’s save all the grown-up talk for when the kids have gone to bed.”
“Hey!” I frown.
“No offense,” says Quinn, giving me a stilted smile that looks false and forced. “Come on, Kael, there’s a shower out back. Let’s get you cleaned up before Nick gets a whiff of you. He’ll skin you alive for pulling this shit again.”
“Lighten up, man,” says Kael, giving Quinn a snotty look. “Sounds to me like one of us needs to get laid. And it ain’t me. Been there, done that.”
“Kael,” Reed growls warningly.
“What?”
“Cut the shit out and go get yourself sorted.”
Kael glares at Reed for a moment, and deathly silence ensues.
There’s obviously some backstory here that I’m not privy to, some bad blood between them that’s causing friction within the group.
But none of that is any of my business, so I put it out of my mind and try to focus on the next few hours that lay ahead of me.
Singing the very last note of the final song of my set, letting it slowly fade away to nothing, I sit perfectly still on the stool for a few seconds longer, the spotlight hot and heavy on my face.
I open my eyes, and when I look up, I’m not sure what to make of things. There are a few technicians tweaking instruments and running cords across the stage, but my eyes are drawn solely to Nick, who is standing on the floor in front of the stage with three other men all in dark business suits, and they’re all just standing there, staring back at me.
