A voice broke through the noise. "Let me through, let me through, a man needs a drink." Dazza pushed through the crowd. A couple of people recognized him and waved but he had his eyes on the bar.
Once he had a beer in his hand, he looked more comfortable.
"Do you want to go upstairs to get away from the noise?" I asked.
Dazza shrugged. "Not sure if there’s any point..."
"What do you mean?" Something about the way he said that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Razer got a phone call this arvo. You know how Muff Monkey wanted him to fill in for their guitarist—”
“What?” I glared at Dazza. I knew nothing about this.
“Muff Monkey?” Drew spun around to Dazza. “Razer’s going play with Muff Monkey? Can he get Davin’s autograph for me?”
“Shut up, Drew. I need to know the details.” This might not be true, after all, Razer hadn’t said a word about it, but my stomach lurched in a really bad way.
“Yeah, they’re on tour at the moment and their guitarist broke his hand. They’re looking for a replacement. Well, they've asked him if he wants to take it on. They want him now. Like ‘jump on the next plane’ now, so he can start rehearsing. Says he’s not interested but he went to meet with them."
I stood up, feeling weak as a kitten.
"Are you okay?" asked Carlie.
Before I could answer her, nausea rose in my stomach. Covering my mouth and pushing the fangirls out of the way, I rushed to the toilet before I threw up. Why hadn't Razer called me? What the hell was going on?
Razer had gone and he wouldn’t be coming back. I’d ruined everything.
Chapter 34 VIOLET
I SPLASHED WATER ON my face and then stared at myself in the mirror. I was a mess. A horrible, pale-faced, red-eyed mess.
I should've known something like this would happen. Never put your trust in a rocker. How many times did I have to learn that lesson? I didn't even have to ask Dazza if Razer had accepted the offer. Why wouldn't he? Why would he care about saving the club when he'd just been offered the chance of a lifetime? Playing with Muff Monkey was a whole level above playing here. Not even one level but like fifty levels. A massive jump from being a big fish in a small pond to being a big fish in the entire ocean.
The door swung open and I tried to dart back into the cubicle, not wanting anyone to see me so shaken.
"Don't worry, it's only me," Carlie called out. "I came in to see if you are okay."
I shook my head. "This is a mess, a whole fucked up mess."
"What are we going to do?"
The door opened again and two girls walked in, giggling and squealing.
"My office," I mouthed to Carlie. We couldn't discuss anything here, not without being overheard.
She helped me through the bar. My legs shook and I could barely walk. I eased myself into my chair and pulled a bottle of vodka out of my drawer. I took a swig then offered the bottle to Carlie.
From outside, the chatter of the crowd grew louder. They'd turn from a crowd to a mob, an angry mob, when they found out the news. And that was just the short-term problem. Long term, this meant Chuck would make no money out of the night and he'd sell the club. That was certain. They could pretty much slap up the “for sale” sign on the place right now.
"What are we going to do about that?" I said to Carlie, nodding at the outside. "If we let them in the door, we need to tell them at some point. Then we'll have to return all their money. That’ll be a nightmare. But if we don't let them through the door, the bar is going be bedlam. Hell, I need to call Razer."
I picked up my phone but it was flat.
"I'll get mine in a minute. It's behind the bar," said Carlie. "You know what we could do, right? We could call Chuck and tell him to deal with this mess and the pair of us could just piss off for the night. Go to some fancy cocktail bar and order drinks with umbrellas in them. We could laze back and relax without one tiny bit of stress."
Her idea seemed perfect. Why did I have to deal with this? It wasn't my club. It probably wouldn't even be a club at all if Chuck had his way. We could just walk out. It's not like I'd be working here much longer anyway.
I could almost taste that mojito in my mouth. It’d taste like freedom and not giving a fuck.