Page 19 of Down Beat

SEVEN

Rey

“Self Esteem” – The Offspring

“Did she get the news?” I crowd Rick into a corner while we wait on the lift.

He gently urges me back a step with a finger to my shoulder. “I spoke with her publicity guy, so I guess so.”

“You didn’t talk to her yourself?”

“No,” Rick drones. “I didn’t exactly ask for her personal number.”

I stare the fucker down as the signal dings to say our ride has arrived, working out whether I’d get punished for laying him out or not.

“Come on.” Rick steps into the lift as the doors slide open. “The others are waiting on us.”

I follow him in, pulling a face. Fuckers can wait as long as they have to. Not as though there’s any practice without me to sing, is there?

“We’ve got two hours there, and then I have to rush you guys over to a radio interview at four.” He drops the facts while staring at his phone.

“Epic.” I fucking hate radio interviews.

At least when there’s a camera on you, you can act up and show personality through gestures. Clown around. Radio… I hate it. Listening to myself afterwards always gives me hell; I sound dull as an unstrung drum.

“Find out if she knows,” I instruct. “She’ll need to come in and do a sound check.”

“I’ve got the guys jacked up to do that in the morning.”

I nod, aiming for nonchalance, but eh, kind of hoped she’d show this afternoon.

“About time, fuckers,” Toby exclaims as our lift opens on the lobby.

Kris rises from one of the plush sofas with his phone in hand, our bassist nowhere to be seen.

“Where the hell is Em?”

Toby’s face falls as he thumbs in the direction of the hotel bar. “Pete’s gone to get him.”

“And here you are bitching about waiting on me.” I join Kris as he drops back into the seat. “How long has he been in there?”

Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him since we checked out the venue yesterday.

“Can’t be sure.” Toby rubs the back of his neck. “Possibly this morning?”

“Possibly last night,” Kris mumbles.

“Fuck it.” I push to my feet and head off in the direction of the alcohol. If a hulk of a man like Pete hasn’t got the idiot out here yet, then it ain’t happening anytime soon without some not-so-gentle verbal persuasion.

I make it as far as the door to the dimly lit lounge before I’m recognized. Fuck fame.

“Rey!”

I ignore the blonde thing and keep hustling.

“Rey, you goddamn moron.”

Hey, now…. I whirl on the woman and get a weird sense of déjà vu. “What did you call me?” Where the fuck is Pete when you need him?