“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 handpicked 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.” Thi
s 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.”