Walking in the boardroom filled with a couple of producers and management types, the uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach like always whenever he met with the industry types. Musicians, producers, roadies, he hung with all of them, but the business guys trying to dress like they were one of the ‘hip’ guys made him wary. His manager, Smithy, had a seat open next to him and he pulled it out for Eric as he walked in. They hadn’t had much time to talk before the meeting, not that Smith was much of a talker. He got shit done, had taken him on when there weren’t many people out there looking for a quirky guy with a guitar who didn’t quite fit into any one genre. Was he rock, pop, folk? Hell, he didn’t even know, so how could he expect other people to pin him down?

“Eric, have a seat. We’re glad you made it. We know early morning meetings aren’t something you guys prefer,” said the navy hoodie with a broad smile.

He gave them a shrug and sat in one of the chairs around the table.

“We wanted to let you know that your newest single is doing really well. Extremely well, beating all our expectations. Congratulations!”

“Uh, thanks,” he said, leg tapping away under the table. A faint thumping sound drifted out from under the table. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, ebbed away. So, this wasn’t going to be one of those, we’re going in a different direction meetings. Knowing that this wasn’t going to be a shitfest helped him loosen the grip he’d had on the arms of the chair under the table.

“But there is an issue that’s been brought to our attention,” navy hoodie said, sliding some pictures across the table. The sinking feeling was back. Smith craned his head to get a look and shot a glance over at him. It was from last night. Him carrying Keira through the hotel lobby.

“We had these sent over to us as a matter of courtesy by one of the tabloids.”

“She’s a friend of a friend. Completely innocent, she was puking and not feeling well and I took her to my room and put her to bed, that’s it,” Eric said, pointing to the pictures.

The hoodies all crossed their arms almost in unison. “It doesn’t look good Eric. You’re supposed to be the good guy. The balance to the craziness of Uncharted. With the hiccup with Talia it was the perfect opportunity for us to capitalize on good will from female fans, but this doesn’t look good.”

“It’s completely innocent, I swear. She’s back in my room right now and can clear everything up.” A bead of sweat dripped down his back.

“It’s not about what it was, but about how it looks and it looks like you took advantage of a passed out woman,” maroon hoodie said. It was like they were all some kind of hive mind, all speaking as one, with one sentence flowing from each of them and making complete thoughts.

“How do we fix it?” Eric said, running his hands through his hair. Had he just screwed everything up by not dropping her off? He couldn’t have done that though. Leaving her passed out somewhere to get sick on her own or need help and have no one there. It turned his stomach to think of something happening to her.

“We’ll fix it, but we’ll need your cooperation,” said the navy hoodie.

“Okay, anything you need.” He’d be on his best behavior to not screw things up for him and his family. He needed this to set his mom and brother up for the life they deserved.

“That’s good to hear and we would expect nothing less,” the green hoodie said, eyeing him. “You’re getting your own tour, Eric.” He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until that moment. His sharp exhale, cut through the silence of the room like a knife. His own tour.

“What?” Weren’t they talking about him screwing things up? He was getting his own tour?

“Yes, you heard correctly. You’re getting your own ten city US and Canadian tour, followed by a twenty city European tour in the fall.” His heart thundered in his chest like a stampede. A light tingly feeling ran through his fingers and travelled up his arms.

“Starting when?” he said, leaning forward in his seat, ready to jump up and down on the table.

“We’re working on getting you a tour manager to help with the day to day, since Smith would like to stay in LA. We are setting up the dates, but it will start in about two weeks. It’s kind of like a flash tour, we think your fans will go crazy for it.” Holy shit! This was really happening. A US and European tour! He hadn’t even been to Europe. He’d need to get a passport.

You’ll have five more stops with Uncharted and then the break, then your tour begins. Short notice, I know, but we want to strike while the iron is hot, especially with your album release in less than a month. We’ll release two new singles in the meantime and tickets will go on sale next week. During the break, we’ll get you some studio time to get us the last songs and then back on the road.” The nausea rolled back into him. He needed to finish the last two songs for the album. Usually all the songs would be finished before anything like this happened, but everyone wanted him out on the road and the public eye as a build up for his album release. They put out the singles to build the momentum as he toured.

“Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair, leg bouncing, nervous energy running through him. He wanted his guitar right now. His guitar and a drum kit, a keyboard, something. But he’d settle for drumming out a rhythm under the table to keep himself from losing it in front of the suits. Well, not suits really, since they were all in hoodies.

“Yeah, wow! Welcome to the big-time Eric,” one of the hoodies said, smiling broadly. Smith slapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder.

“Now, there are some things we need you to do to make sure that things go smoothly. I know since you and Talia broke up, we’ve been playing up the heartbroken angle.” At the mention of her name, his good mood evaporated into thin air. He hadn’t been playing anything, but the label was more than happy to do it for him. He hadn’t really cared because he could just let it slide and keep pushing on. “I know there have been a lot of rumors out there about what happened and her cheating on you and while I know it sucks, this is excellent for your image,” the record exec who had to be at least sixty in a beige hoodie and jeans, tried to tell him that his dumpster fire of a former relationship worked to his advantage. He’d been working on a song about her, about her betrayal and pain she inflicted. He needed to get it out to completely wash the whole experience away.

“She’s hot right now after being in a few music videos, but you’re still sympathetic. She’s the bad girl and you’re the good guy, let’s not forget that.”

This meeting was veering off into a direction he didn’t like.

“Vulnerable plays so well with the female audiences. And you’ve been wronged, your next single about her is going to get you major bonus points when it comes to keeping those audiences on your side. But what happened last night doesn’t help that and there have been rumors about things happening on tour with Uncharted. All together it doesn’t play well to the image we are cultivating.”

“We know that they can get involved in some serious partying, which is great for their image, but we don’t think that would play well for you right now,” said another exec., in a light blue hoodie. “It might even be best if you’re seen with someone new and we think this girl would be perfect,” they said, looking at the picture of Keira. How the hell would they even know? Most of her hair was flopped over her face in the picture. And what did they want him to do exactly? She was a friend of a friend. He wasn’t going to screw her over for his image.

“It will also stop any rumors about what this may or may not have been.”

“It wasn’t anything—“ He tried to interject, but they plowed on.

“Perception is reality and what this seems like isn’t good, we need to correct before it gets out of hand. With this girl, it will make fan ravenous for the new story and Talia will be old news.”

“Don’t you guys represent Talia as well?”

There was a grumble from around the table as the exec all looked to one another. Eric’s manager, Smith, patted him on his arm to get his attention.

“They do, but you’re up and coming right now and they need to focus on you. Talia’s doing her own thing, so it’s better to put all of our energies into making sure your tour is a success.”

“We will be putting our full support behind the tour and album release. And one of the things we’ll be offering your fans will be something custom with each show. We’re still brainstorming on what that will be. It might be a custom keychain or a t-shirt or something like that.”

Thinking back to the photos he’d seen of Keira and how to solve the image problem the label thought he was stepping into, an idea struck him. He knew her job had dried up for the summer and she was a hell of an artist from the few photos he’d seen. His head perked up and Smith furrowed his eyebrows and stared at him.

“What?” he whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What about artwork?” Eric said, his head snapping up to the hoodies across the table.

Everyone who had been throwing out ideas from the other side, immediately turned to him.

“Artwork?”

“Yeah, photography taken on the day of the show or during the concert or something like that. It could be something personal that the fans get to take away. A photo book or something of the tour stop or the whole tour.” He could help Keira out with her summer job and show everyone he wasn’t some crazy asshole who took advantage of a passed out woman.

More conferring and whispering on that side of the table as all the hoodie-wearing execs got together and were gesturing, grumbling and glancing back at him. Smith’s legs bounced a mile a minute. He gave Eric a strained smile and he wondered if it had been a colossal mistake to bring that up. Thinking about it, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea. Inviting Keira along on tour probably wasn’t one of his better ideas. He hadn’t run this past her. Did she even want to get mixed up with him? Did he want her on tour with him chronicling his every move?

Who the hell was he kidding? It took everything in him and a cold shower the night before not to pull her into his arms when she finally stopped puking. And the music that hit him this morning had been some of the most inspired he’d had in a long while. She could be just what he needed to get his writing back on track. And he needed all the distraction he could get before he drove himself insane being on tour alone. The internal battle waged in him about this idea as the Hoodies continued their conference.

“It could work,” said green hoodie. “It could be something more personal. Backstage moments, hanging on the tour bus. Have prints done and ready for fans to pick up at the show. And do a whole coffee table book to wrap the tour,” one of the hoodie said, stroking his chin and looking very satisfied with himself.

“But what about hiring an artist on such short notice. We would need someone who could follow the tour, it would be too much of a hassle to set something up in every city. And we’d need to know if it even worked,” black hoodie added. They conferred a bit longer, leaving Eric and Smith drumming their fingers on the table as they waited.

“I have the perfect artist.” It was do-or-die time. He gulped.

“Who?”

“Her,” he said pointing at the pictures splayed across the table. “She’s a great photographer and I know she’s available for the summer and maybe beyond that,” he said, almost in a single breath. There came a collective ‘hmm’ from the other side of the table as they all glanced between him and the pictures.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we decide.” The Hoodies stood and so did Eric and Smith. They’d been dismissed. The pair strode out of the conference room and waited by the elevators. Neither said anything as they stood silently anticipating those doors opening in front of them. His heart pounded in his throat, this was huge for him and his family, for his career. His fingers buzzed in anticipation.

Being an opening act for a big band meant a lot of things, like being cooped up in a bunk he shared with his equipment on a bus for ten hours a night, being ignored by their fans, and some exposure, but the money sucked. Headlining his own tour hadn’t crossed his mind as something that would happen anytime soon, maybe in a few years. Tour merchandise alone could buy his mom a new house. The ding rang out in the empty waiting area and the elevator doors finally opened.

The second the doors closed behind them Smith pounced on him like a tiger. Smith wrapped him up in a bear hug that squeezed the air from his lungs as he jumped up and down like a lunatic.

“Holy shit! Dude, do you know what this means? Can you fucking believe it? You’re getting a solo tour!” Smith was more excited than Eric had ever seen him in his whole life.

“I can’t believe it either. We did it.” Eric said, slapping him on the back. “I couldn’t have done it without you, man.”

“All I did was get you some gigs in the beginning and make sure you didn’t get screwed over. You’re a real talent. My wife will be so relieved about the tour manager bit. She’s long kept my ass off the road. I’ll look over the contract stuff and let you know how it all plays out. I’m surprised you haven’t dumped my ass at this point,” Smith said, glancing over. Eric could have sworn there was a sheen of tears in his eyes.

“I’d never leave you behind, Smithy. Who else is there to give me a kick in the ass when I need it? You even warned me about Talia in the beginning, so from where I’m standing, you’re my guy until you don’t want to be anymore.”

“Nah, I’m your guy until you find a real manager,” Smith said, dismissively waving his hand.

“You don’t want to be my manager anymore?” Eric’s mouth hung open and his throat constricted. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out.

“Eric, you need someone who can run with the big dogs. I’m not that guy, but I’m not going to mess you up by trying to hang onto you even when I know I’m out matched. I’ll let you know when I’m in over my head. It’s not right now, but I want you to be prepared for that day.” He squeezed Eric’s slumped shoulders. “I’m not saying it will be tomorrow. I’m giving you a heads up. I didn’t want you to think I’d run out on you.”

Smith had been with him a long time. He knew about Eric’s past. About his dad walking out on his family. And he hadn’t realized how much their relationship had evolved into a father son one over a short few years. The thought of leaving him behind turned his mouth to sawdust. He wasn’t going to drop him.

“We’ll figure something out. I’ll find a place for you no matter what, Smithy,” he said, punching him in the shoulder.

“What’s the deal with the photography thing? Where did that come from?” Smith asked, arching his eyebrow.

“Just popped into my head. With how they were freaking out about the pictures, I thought it would be a good compromise. Give her a job this summer, she told me she’s out of work. Clear my name and do something cool for the fans. It’s a win-win-win.”

“Oh, I see. Worried about being bored on tour. Lining up Talia’s replacement,” Smith said, nudging Eric in the ribs.

“No, it’s not like that. I didn’t suggest it because I want to sleep with her.” Smith quirked his eyebrow and Eric laughed. “Okay, not because I only want to sleep with her. She’s a great photographer and she could use the money. Plus, maybe it could help her in the long run. Plus, she’s a friend of Mark’s. I’m not trying to screw her over.”

“Always looking out for everyone else.” Smithy threw his arm around Eric’s shoulder and they headed out of the building. He hoped that suggesting this hadn’t been a mistake. Keira would go for it. Wouldn’t she?