The things you can do when you have no personal life.
“Yeah, boss.” Sarah appears at the door. “You need me?”
I thought I was in hell. Sarah looks like hell trampled her face. She isn’t so much standing as allowing the door frame to prop her up.
“Sarah, I hope we’ve reached that point in our relationship where I can tell you when you look like shit.”
Sarah nods weakly.
“Good.” I grimace and gesture for her to sit down in the chair across from my desk. “Because you look like shit.”
“I probably look worse than I feel.” Sarah settles carefully into the cream-colored leather chair.
“Let’s hope so.” I glance back down at the multiplying mound of papers on my desk. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. I’ll make this quick so you can go home, but are you well enough to tell me what the hell is going on in Denver?”
“Denver?” Sarah blinks slowly back at me. I cling to my patience. I really do, and I remind myself she isn’t feeling well.
“Yeah. Denver. They have snow and mountains and the Broncos.”
“Did something go wrong for the guys?” She frowns with pain-dulled eyes. “Everything was set up at the venue.”
“Yeah, well I just got off the phone with Danny from the band, and he says everything’s screwed up. There are several items from the equipment list missing.”
“I sent their rider two months ago.” Sarah shakes her head, confusion drawing her brows together. “I spoke to Elle, our contact at the club, last week, and she confirmed everything.”
“Have you talked to Morris?” I ask of the road manager who’s supposed to be handling things. I tap my nails on the edge of my desk, but stop immediately. My mother does that. There are enough naturally occurring similarities between my mother and me. I don’t need to cultivate more.
“No, but I’ll call him right now.” She pulls her phone from her pocket and dials, looking at me while she waits. “It’s ringing.”
“That’s usually how it works. When things go really well, he actually picks up. Something he hasn’t done for the last hour I’ve been calling him.”
I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but Rhyson hand-picked Kilimanjaro, and they’re an incredible band. They could have signed with any number of huge labels, but they chose us. They don’t have a studio album out yet and are still considered “underground.” This tour is building a grass roots fan base for their first release.
Prodigy may be small and just starting, but my brother’s reputation is on the line. So is mine.
“Hey, Morris,” Sarah says, forcing a smile he isn’t here to appreciate. “How’re things going?”
How’re things going?
I just told her they’re going to shit. I need to get to the bottom of it, not find out if he’s enjoying his day.
“Give me the phone,” I whisper-shout, extending my hand.
“I’ve got it,” she mouths, nodding as if that’s supposed to reassure me. “Uh huh. That’s great, Morris. Look, the band called and said things weren’t quite what we’d asked for.”
She listens for a second, finally biting her lip and clenching her eyes closed.
“I see.” Her sigh sounds a little too resigned to me. “Well, I guess it is what it is. Not sure what can be done about that since we’re not there and the show is tonight.”
The hell.
“Give me that phone, Sarah.” This time I look at her sternly enough so she knows it isn’t optional. She reluctantly passes it to me.
“Morris, it’s Bristol.”
“Hey, Bristol.” Nervousness creeps into his voice.
“What’s this about things not being what they should be for the band out there? Their rider is very clear, and Elle signed off on everything.”
“Yeah, I think there were a few things they wanted equipment-wise that we were told would be available that aren’t.”
“Then Elle needs to fix that.”
“I’ve tried to talk to her but haven’t gotten any movement yet.” His shaky laugh from the other end irritates me. “She’s one tough cookie, that one.”
“Hmmmm. Okay, well I’ll call her right now, and if that cookie doesn’t want to get crumbled, she better give my guys every damn thing in the rider.”
There’s a short pause after my statement.
“Good luck,” Morris finally replies.
“By the way, Morris.” I pause until I’m sure I have his full attention. “If I have to do your job and mine, one of us is redundant. The next time I send you out as road manager, I expect you to manage. If you can’t, I’ll find someone who isn’t intimidated by a small-town club owner.”
I don’t wait for a response. What can he say to that? I hate incompetence. I haven’t had trouble out of Morris before, but this is strike one. I use Sarah’s phone to call Elle so she won’t see me coming.
“Sarah, hey,” Elle answers after the third ring, sounding bored and distracted. “If you’re calling about that outrageous rider, I’ll tell you what I told Morris. Take what you get. The show is tonight, and we don’t have time to get all the equipment they’re asking for. They’ll be fine with what we have.”
“Not Sarah, Elle. It’s Bristol.”
“Bristol, hey.” I can practically hear her sit up and take notice. “Well, you heard what I was just saying then.”
“Oh, I heard you. Now you hear me.”
I lean forward, planting my fist on my desk to support my weight.
“There’s a contract between you and me, lady. One you signed. Not fulfilling those terms places you in breach.” I pause before resuming. “Is that clear?”
“I can’t possibly find those mics they want in a day, Bristol.”
“I didn’t expect you to, which is why you’ve had the rider for months. You assured us that was more than ample time to secure the guys’ equipment preferences.”
“Well, I was wrong.”
“Did you even try?”
I know she won’t admit that she didn’t try, but she needs to know that I don’t believe she did.
“Elle, I don’t give excuses, and I don’t accept them. Make it happen or you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
“This is ridiculous!” she screeches from the other end.
“What’s ridiculous is that this conversation even needs to happen.” I smack my lips together in disbelief. “You actually think I’ll fall for that? Waiting until the last minute and then shrugging all c’est la vie when you don’t have time to fulfill the terms?”
“No, I—”
“You will find that equipment,” I cut in. “I don’t care if you find it up your ass. Just clean it before you give it to my band.”
I end the call before I threaten to come out there myself. Then I’d have to actually follow through, and after being in hell all week, the last place I want to be is Denver. I got enough snow living in New York most of my life.
“Thanks.” I hand Sarah’s phone back to her.
“You’re so badass,” she whispers with her hand pressed to her stomach.
“Only when I have to be.”
She barely lifts a knowing brow.
“Okay, yeah. Kind of all the time, but you know people make me, right?”
Sarah lets out a low groan and squeezes her eyelids closed.
“What is it?” I walk around the desk and press the back of my hand to her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“No, I have a period,” she responds listlessly.
“Ohhhhhh.” I sit on the edge of the desk, studying her pretty face, which is twisting with discomfort. “Bad month?”
“Do the words ‘red wedding’ mean anything to you?”
I grin at her Game of Thrones reference, and she slits one eye open and offers an anemic smile.
“Go home.” I gesture at the daunting pile of papers that seem to be metastasizing on the desk behind me. “Believe me. I can attest to the fact that the work isn’t going anywhere. I’ve been trying to get rid of it all week with no luck.”