Page 49 of Down Beat
NINETEEN
Rey
“The Red” - Chevelle
Thankfully even though our schedule got fucked up, the gear we didn’t need last night was able to carry on and arrive a day early to be set up for tonight’s and tomorrow night’s shows. Gave the crew a head start, which means we get down time. I sit out in what will be the general admission area, legs kicked out before me with my back against a heavy plastic bollard. Rick stares at the ground while his old man tears strips off him down in front of the stage.
Yep. Old boy Wallace caught the first available flight out here to take control.
“You’ve really fucked him over,” Kris mumbles as he settles beside me. “Smoke?”
“Thanks, man.” I reach over and pluck one from his pack.
“I heard a rumor that he’s on his final warning now.”
“Shit. That bad?”
Kris nods while I watch the tirade continue. I could go over and step in to defend Rick, but meh, where the fuck would that get either of us? I’ve made it a point not to be within arm’s length of Wallace all morning for a fucking good reason.
“Ten minutes and we’re back to it,” Toby announces as he strides over to where we chill. “Think you can manage that?”
I flip him the bird and then lean over for Kris’s light.
“You’ve completely overshadowed the whole point of this goddamn tour,” he grumbles, thumbs hooked in pockets. “Do you even care?”
“Of course I care,” I snap. “Would you like me to swallow a bottle of Valium again to show just how much I care?”
He scowls at me. Granted, that was an immature jab, but still. This is my career too; I get it.
“I’m sure old Wally-boy can get things back on track.” I hold my smoke out to gesture to the guy.
The man in question finishes with Rick and then turns, eyes wild as they land on me. Shoot.
“Point is, he shouldn’t have to,” Toby digs. “When are you going to get help?”
“I don’t need fucking help.”
“You need something.”
“A bullet?” Kris mutters.
Wallace advances at a pace I don’t like all that much. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to get half the cigarette down before I have to hot foot it to save myself. I chug like the little train that could, sucking as much of the legal hit as I can before I push to my feet and prepare to exit, stage right.
“Rey!”
Fuck. “Hey, Wallace.” I stick my hand out for the guy.
He leaves it hanging. “What the ever-lovin’ fuck got into you, boy?”
Guess it’s like that, then. I shrug, and then jam my hands in my pockets while Kris makes himself scarce. Toby watches like the fucking sadist he is.
“Speak up,” Wallace booms.
The guy is six-foot-plus of broad, German muscle. Rumor has it he moved to America to pursue a career in music himself, but when that didn’t work out, turned his hand to managing other people’s. The guy has one of the highest turnover rates for staff in the industry, so to say he’s heavy-handed with his leadership style would be an understatement. The fact he still carries a strong accent after decades in the country only adds to his menace.
“It won’t happen again,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster. “I promise.”
He leans in, thick finger pointed between us. “Your promises mean jack shit to me.” The digit shunts me painfully in the chest. “I made you; remember that. I can just as easily unmake you.”