She clutched the strap of her messenger bag and tried to swallow her queasiness. Could she pull this off? Could she spend the next four weeks with one of the most famous rock bands on the planet, or was it possible for a person to die from sheer intimidation? The wall of muscle and mean that suddenly appeared in her path did nothing to put her at ease.
“No fans on the bus,” the big guy said, taking her firmly by one arm and spinning her back toward the open bus door she’d just entered.
“I’m not a fan,” she blurted, which wasn’t exactly true. She enjoyed Exodus End’s music and had gained an even greater appreciation for it when she did her background research for this job. She scrambled to grab the press pass on the lanyard around her neck and thrust it in his general direction. It had gotten her through the barricades; surely it would work now. “I’m Toni Nichols. Samuel Baily said to meet up with the bus tonight and join the tour. I was told you’d be expecting me.”
She’d made it here, she was living her dream; yet the stars she reached for had never seemed so distant.
The security guard released her arm to take her press pass and scrutinize it. Toni forced herself to meet the suspicious gaze of the giant in a neon-yellow T-shirt as he assessed her press pass and then her. Her press pass again. Her once more. His brown mustache twitched, but the scowl never left his fleshy face. She wondered if fans pretended to be members of the press to get on the bus. This guy obviously wasn’t buying her story, even though she was telling the truth. She’d never have been able to muster the courage to actually lie and sneak her way onto a tour bus. Who did that?
“Sam sent you?” he said gruffly. “He didn’t clear this with me. He knows he’s supposed to clear everything with me. Everything.” Big-and-Beefy pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “Don’t move an inch,” he demanded as he dialed.
Well, that would be absolutely no problem. It wasn’t as if she could walk on the limp noodles that had replaced her legs.
The man turned away, and she stared at the word SECURITY printed across the back of his T-shirt while he checked out her credentials with Mr. Baily. Toni figured she should probably be taking in her surroundings and forming first impressions of Exodus End’s lavish tour bus, but she feared if she so much as glanced at anything belonging to the band, laser beams would shoot from the security guy’s eye sockets and roast her alive.
“Do the guys know she’s coming? I don’t think they’re going to like this much.” He paused. “Yeah, she. Toni’s a chick.”
Toni stiffened. The band’s manager, Mr. Baily, had assured her mother’s publishing house that everything would go smoothly. She’d been told that the guys were excited to be a part of the interactive biography that Mr. Baily had sold to her mom’s company for a seven-figure advance. Though Nichols Publishing had a lot of money tied up in this venture, Toni wouldn’t be getting rich off book sales. She was just the contract-for-hire writer who also happened to be the photographer, videographer, and programmer for the project. Those in charge were supposed to have cleared everything with the band ahead of time. So what was going on?
A walkie-talkie on the security guard’s belt screeched. “Butch, the guys are headed your way,” said a voice from the device.
Toni pressed her lips together to stifle a grin. His name was Butch? Fitting. A little too fitting.
Butch said goodbye to Mr. Baily and hung up. “Go sit on the sofa until I figure out what to do with you,” he said to Toni before reaching for his walkie-talkie.
He didn’t need to figure out what to do with her. She knew how to do her job. She was supposed to interview the band members. Take note of how they lived while on the road. Get some candid shots of them in their everyday environment. Catch them being themselves in photos, video clips, and audio clips. Then, once she had all the pieces, combine those varied elements into a one-of-a-kind interactive electronic biography. That was what she was supposed to do—hang out with the band for a month and become an insider. The hard part would be fitting in with them. She was no rock star. Not by any stretch of her overactive imagination. “Excuse me, but I—”
Butch waved her toward the comfortable-looking leather sofa situated along one side of the bus and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Send them out.” He stomped off the bus, leaving Toni standing there feeling like she’d walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone just as the big plot twist was about to reveal itself. The bus was really a spaceship and the band members were actually flesh-eating aliens who’d set her up so they’d have something tasty to snack on while they journeyed to their next destination. And you thought you were following your dreams, you fool! It was pretty obvious that Butch didn’t appreciate her unexpected appearance. She doubted the band would be any more amicable about her interruption to their lives. Unless they really were flesh-eating space aliens.
Butch’s disdain wasn’t going to stop her, however. This assignment was important to her. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. She was here to work and to prove her naysayer of an editor wrong. Toni wasn’t waiting to start until after Butch decided what to do with her. She was starting now.
Resolve strengthened, Toni headed off the bus to stand next to Butch and observe the members of the band as they made their way from the back door of the stadium to the tour bus.
Butch started when he noticed her standing next to him. She straightened her shoulders and pushed her glasses up her nose. She wasn’t going to let some big dude intimidate her. She’d be plenty intimidated when she met the four famous rock stars who were headed in her direction. Make that five rock stars. She’d completely forgotten they’d hired a new rhythm guitarist, Reagan Elliot, to tour with them for the year. A group of yellow-T-shirt-bedecked escorts walked several steps behind the four tattooed hunks and the exuberant woman in their midst.
“This is so much fun,” Reagan shouted, hugging the nearest member of her band, who happened to be lead guitarist Dare Mills. Or maybe her choice of huggee hadn’t been accidental. The man was exquisite. What woman wouldn’t want to hug him? Or more? Toni’s face flamed as ideas about what more might entail flitted through her thoughts. Not that she’d actually ever experienced more. But she knew what it involved. Somewhat.
Dare squeezed Reagan and added an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. “You did great tonight,” he said. “The fans already adore you. Aren’t you glad you loosened up a little?”