Bam
“CHICKS DIG SCARS.” That was all my dad said when I was eight years old and cut my right bicep open on a rusty nail sticking out from our back fence. The gash required four stitches and I was worried about being horribly disfigured for life. That was one of his better parenting moments.
I stood in front of the hotel room mirror. The giant purple wound above my left eye wouldn’t leave a scar, but there was nothing I could imagine chicks digging about the current state my face. I looked like shit. To make matters worse, the headache express had arrived right on time, and just pulled into migraine station.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Hadley: Wheels up in five.
I gently slid my sunglasses on, hoping to obscure my eye, and being extra careful not to provoke the angry volcano god currently residing on my face. Grabbing my bag, I headed down to the lobby.
“Hey,” I quietly greeted the band who had all assembled, along with Chas, in the hotel lobby. Jimmy was texting on his phone, Edward was reading a book, and Zeke was laying flat on his back on the lobby couch with his hat over his eyes.
Chas was the only one who responded. “We have a few minutes before we have to leave so let’s talk about the game plan for this meeting.”
I nodded but was still pissed about the way Chas was suddenly telling me how things were going to be in my band.
“I’m gonna do the talking and you lot are gonna sit there and smile like good lads. And you”―Chas looked directly at me―“Not a fucking finger, mate.”
I said nothing.
“I’ve worked too hard for you lot only to have you blow it when the big opportunities come knocking,” Chas said in a low voice.
“What do you mean, you’ve worked hard?” I asked, my eyes meeting his. “This band has been busting its ass for years before we even knew your name.”
“Look, mate, look at it however you want, but you don’t know everything that goes on regarding the business matters of this band,” Chas said.
“I sure as hell should!” I snapped back. “We all should.”
Zeke was laying still, his arms folded.
“Chas, did you know something about this RatHound tour beforehand?” I demanded.
Jimmy and Edward turned to stare at Chas now.
“What’s your problem, Bam?” Zeke broke his silence and sat up suddenly. “Why don’t you let Chas do his damn job? You’re acting like this tour is a bad thing. Besides, you’re the one who fucked this thing up for us. Let him deal with it. He’s the band’s manager, not you.”
Something didn’t feel right. Zeke should have been just as pissed about this as I was. I understood him being angry at me about last night, but this was something different.
“Whatever. We’ll talk about this later. We don’t have time to get into this, we can’t be late,” I said.
We piled into the van and made our way to the coffee shop two doors down from the theater. Café le Cerf was about as old and historic as the theater itself. We arrived a few minutes early and Lucy was already there, sitting at a table for two, busily typing on her phone.
Damn, she was gorgeous. I instantly regretted not standing my ground and meeting her alone. For some reason I didn’t want the ugly drama of my band to spill onto her. I didn’t want her to see even a glimpse of the man I was last night. I didn’t want to let her down.
There’s that feeling again. Why do I care so much about what she thinks of me?
Lucy glanced up from her phone, looking momentarily surprised and I ventured a guess it was because the entire band and our manager were moving toward her.
“Hi there, love,” Chas sang out, instantly laying on his schmoozing voice.
“Chas. Hello,” she replied pleasantly. “I didn’t realize the whole band would be here. I would have gotten a bigger table.” She stared directly at me when she said this.
Shit. I knew it. It was just supposed to be the two of us.
“But that’s great,” she continued. “Since I didn’t get the chance to meet everyone last night. How’s your eye, Bam?” she asked me sweetly, but was clearly taking a dig at me.
“It’s fine, thanks,” I said sheepishly, pulling my sunglasses a little tighter to my face. “Again, I’m really sorry about last night.”
Chas shot me a cold look.
“Mr. Nelson asked for another chance, so here we are. Let’s just move on and see if we can talk business,” Lucy said.
Chas forced his best attempt at a smile and I gave him a look that I’d hoped conveyed something along the lines of “eat a flaming bag of shit.” We moved to a slightly larger table in the corner, and crowded around it as Lucy started, “As you may have heard, RatHound has recently reformed, and is playing a six week tour this summer across the United States. Until last night, we were very interested in having Roses for Anna open for the band for the entire tour.”
“Well, we’re here to talk,” Chas said.
Lucy continued, ignoring him. “My father has seen you play and is sold on you guys. He feels like your band is the real deal and that’s very important to him.”
“It’s important to us as well, and we’re all huge RatHound fans,” Zeke said, sounding a bit too eager for my taste.
Back off you fucking animals.
Chas cut in again, “Well, we’d love to play the dates and would be happy to start reviewing the offer with our lawyers.”
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, gentlemen,” she replied. “There’s an important factor to consider, and after last night, I’m not convinced you’re the right act for the bill.
“Did you see last night’s show?” Zeke asked. “Did you see the crowd’s response? Hear our music? We’re the perfect band for the bill.”
“I haven’t personally seen you play live yet, but honestly, my concerns are not about your music, or the popularity of the band,” she explained. “You guys are solid in those departments. I’m more concerned about the chaos factor.” She looked at me again. “Drugs and alcohol tore RatHound apart. The band members have each cleaned up over the years, and their shared sobriety has been the main reason they’ve reconnected. This tour will be completely dry, meaning no drugs or alcohol of any kind. This means nothing on stage, backstage, or on the RatHound busses.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Chas assured.
The other band members heads involuntarily snapped toward Chas. We were by no means the biggest “party band” in history, but we were no angels either. We were young, knew how to have a good time, and were not unfamiliar with heavy drinking and colorful women. Since the overdose death of our original guitarist, we had done a pretty good job of keeping drugs away from us, but a dry tour? I, myself, wasn’t convinced that every member of the band could or would be able to stick to those kinds of strict rules.
“After last night, I can’t be sure that your band won’t be a problem. My main role as RatHound’s new manager is to protect their well-being and guard their sobriety. I also need to make sure that whoever goes on the road with us won’t embarrass the band or bring on any bad press.”
I was starting to understand the position Lucy was in and why she had been putting on her best “business face.” Her father trusted her make decisions on behalf of a band that had been together for more than thirty years. He trusted her with their sobriety, and she did not want to let him down. She was clearly taking this new position very seriously, and for good reason. I had to get to know this woman. With every word she spoke, every moment that passed, I wanted more. More of her.
I took my glasses off in order to make eye contact with her, my hideous Rocky Balboa face be damned. “Miss Haddon,” I said as genuinely as possible. “We won’t let you down.”
“Mr. Chambers,” Lucy said to Chas, without taking her eyes off me. “I’d like to talk with Mr. Nelson alone for a moment.”
My jeans tightened uncomfortably behind my zipper. I prayed to God she wouldn’t ask me to get up and take a walk with her because my hard-on would have been fully visible. She probably already thought I was a creep, no need to confirm it.
“Alright lads, let’s take a walk and give these two ladies some privacy,” Chas said.
I hated Chas even more at that moment, but I was thankful I didn’t have to get up. I still managed to flash him a nice “fuck you, you fat sausage roll of a man” kind of smirk as he passed.
I moved over one seat, partly in order to readjust the pressure in my pants, but mostly to be closer to Lucy. I didn’t know what I was doing. I knew there was no way I could touch this woman―no way I could even go near this woman, but I also knew there was no way I could stay away from her.
“I didn’t realize you were bringing the entire band,” Lucy reiterated.
“Neither did I.”
A shadow of a smile crossed her lips and I relaxed a little.
“So you didn’t plan this,” she deduced.
“No.” I sighed. “Want to meet me for lunch later? Alone.”
“For what purpose?”
“To talk. Privately. We can hash things out without prying eyes… or ears.”
I watched her war with her emotions, transfixed. Everything she was thinking played out in the expressions on her face. Beautiful.
“I—”
“Before you say no,” I said.
“I wasn’t going to say no.”
“You weren’t?”
She shook her head. “I’ll meet you at Billy’s at one. It’s two blocks north of here.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great.” She rose to her feet and sauntered out the door without a backward glance, leaving me sitting there, once again watching her delicious ass walk away.
Zeke stalked back to the table. “What the hell? Why did she leave?”
“She had a meeting,” I lied. “Don’t worry, we’ll see her tonight.”
“If you fuck this up―”
“I’m not gonna fuck anything up,” I hissed, and rose to my feet. “I’ll see you tonight.”
I walked out the door, uninterested in whatever else had crawled up my lead singer’s ass.