“Ah fuck,” I mumble as Sam’s face turns red. If she were a cartoon character, steam would be billowing out of her ears right now. Harrison doesn’t give a shit though, and neither should I, but I’m always the one that gets stuck with her.
As lu
ck would have it, she doesn’t say anything. For now, that’s a good thing, but he’ll likely pay later. Harrison has asked me repeatedly what I see in her. Truth is, I’m not sure. Most of the time she’s a ragging bitch, but other times she’s sweet and can be one of the nicest people I know. I don’t know if she’s suffering from a bad case of PMS or what, but she and Harrison do not get along.
The second we pull up to the terminal my seatbelt is off and I’m out the door. I’m not waiting for the driver to come around to let me out. That’s not who I am even if that’s who Sam wants me to be. I can also carry my own bags and wheel my own suitcase, another habit that drives her batty.
At LAX the paps are everywhere. It’s harder than hell to get through the terminal without getting your picture taken. And there’s no point in fighting it. So while the car is being unloaded, Harrison, JD and I stand here with our bags in our hands while our manager is barking orders at anyone who will listen. Why we’re flying when the rest of our crew is on the tour bus, I have no idea, but I don’t like it. I think treating them differently is wrong and the fact that they’re leaving their families for months on end to live on the road, is a sacrifice they’re willing to make and I should be making it too.
Flash bulbs are going off like crazy. Our names are being called and told to look in their direction. We ignore them, but don’t move from our spots, giving them ample opportunity to get their images. We’re asked personal questions. Most of them invade our privacy. My favorites are about my mystery love child, mine and Sam’s wedding (which will never happen) and if I’m sleeping with the newest ‘it’ girl.
When I first arrived on the scene, I’d answer anything. Unless it had to do with back home, those questions were dodged like a bullet. That was my old life, one I didn’t want to bring into my new life... or to even think about it, truth be told. The memories of home are painful and I’m still trying to get over them.
Walking through the terminal, we follow Sam, who manages to power walk in five inch heels. She makes us follow behind her, forgetting that she works for us. A couple times we’ve talked about firing her, moving on to a different company, but when you look at the numbers and the tours and venues we’re playing in, you can’t help but give her some credit for getting us where we are. Yes, it’s our music, but she’s the one who is selling us to the promoters. No, firing her would be a bad idea, even if she drives us to drink.
A luxury of having money is that we fly first class, and we get to wait in the lounge until our names are called. It never fails that we’ll run into a fan or two, but for the most part they just want to talk. They just want to get to know us and feel like we’re all on the same level which is nice and relaxing until you meet the one crazy who was able to upgrade her flight. That’s when Sam steps in. That’s when she’s very useful for us at the airport.
As soon as our plane touches down, the telltale clicking of seatbelts being slid out of their buckles echo throughout the cabin, breaking the standard rule of waiting until we’re stopped at the gate. For the first time in years, we flew coach. Our last flight had been with Sam, giving each of us someone to share a seat with. I was always with her while Harrison and JD sat next to each other. This time we just took up a row, keeping our arm rests pushed back and our trays full of work.
Gone are the days where fans would greet us at the airport and paparazzi are here happily clicking the shutter button on their cameras for tomorrow’s spread in Page Six. The lackluster fanfare for our arrival is disappointing, not that I expected anything different.
“Didn’t you tweet that we were arriving?” I had asked JD to post what time we were arriving, hoping to stir up some attention. Apparently, tweeting your location only works in Beaumont because we’re standing in the wide open at LAX and people are passing us right and left without a second glance. This is freaking Los Angeles, and no one cares that 4225 West is standing in the airport looking like idiots, begging for attention.
“Yeah, I did,” he says, pulling out his phone. He rambles off the number of favorites and retweets he’s received, but none of them matter. The lack of a welcoming crowd only proves what I’ve been saying all along: We need to be in Los Angeles if we want to be successful. This place is what makes or breaks you and right now, we’re definitely broken.
“Well boys, we’re back,” Harrison says as he shoulders his bag.
“We should have a car waiting to take us to the Wilshire.”
“Your home away from home,” JD says, reminding me that I used to live there. My happiest memory is the day that Josie came to my place for dinner. I wanted to seduce her; remind her of the connection we had and could still have. I was on the cusp of doing something foolish, but pulled back. She was promised to another man and as much as I didn’t care about him, I cared about her.
When we step outside, the black Town Car is there to take us to the hotel. I don’t know why I chose the Wilshire. It was either familiarity, convenience, or just out of habit, but I’m currently second-guessing myself. There’s too much history and bad memories mixed with only one good one. We pile in, with me being the last one inside the car. As soon as I shut the door, I want to beat the shit out of Harrison and JD for not bailing as soon as they saw Mr. Moreno across from them.
“What the fuck are you doing in my car?” I ask, not sugar coating the hostility rolling off my tongue.
He takes off his hat. He’s aged tremendously since the last time we saw him. Our last encounter was in court when we filed a restraining order against Sam, and if I’m not mistaken that included Moreno Entertainment. Truth be told, the only thing the old man did wrong was protect his daughter. Any father would, but when you’re running a business sometimes you need to forget your employees are family.
“I thought we could talk business.”
“We’re not interested,” Harrison says. JD and I both nod in agreement.
Moreno cracks a smile. His bald head is shining thanks to the oncoming headlights and I find myself trying not to laugh. If Noah were here, he’d be cracking jokes and this would be the one time I’d tell him not to mind his elders.
“It’s no secret you guys are struggling.” His voice is gruff, sounding like he’s had one too many cigars. He probably has, although I’ve never seen him with one. I’ve spent ample time in his mansion, being catered to while I sat by the pool, and not once did I see this man smoke. Drink, yes. He can handle his liquor better than anyone I know.
I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek. “We’re fine.”
He scoffs, knowing the truth. “Your manager is good, but he doesn’t have the nuts to get you guys the deals you’re used to. You guys are has-beens when you were destined to be on top. You packed up for your lala land life and look at where it’s got you… playing free gigs at your wife’s café.”
All three of us are silent and still, knowing he’s right. But I did this. What I should’ve done was break up the band so they could pursue their careers. Instead, they followed me and started their lives, getting married and raising kids. I mean, that’s what we are now... family men.
Moreno leans forward pointing his hat at us. “You know I’m right and you know you miss it. You miss seeing your name in lights, flashing across the marquee. You want to hear your fans screaming your name, crawling over each other just so they can touch you. The bright lights of movie premieres, award shows and having that spotlight shine down on you, illuminating you from darkness it’s why you became the group you are.”
“We’re fine,” I say out of spite, but my voice lacks the conviction. I never want to admit a man like him is right, but fuck if he’s not.
“Keep telling yourself that, Page. I can see it in your eyes. All of your eyes.”
The car comes to a stop and Mr. Moreno starts to slide out. He doesn’t look at me, only Harrison and JD. “Don’t let this idiot ruin your careers. You know how to reach me.”