Um, just no and never.
I raise my hand as if I’m in high school. Romeo’s expression is odd, but he nods.
“You guys are going to be far busier than me, and, well, this is your tour, so I can do the laundry.”
Justin grins. “Sounds good. How nice of you.”
Romeo glares at him through the dark hair falling over his forehead. “Thanks, Peyton.” He gives both Sam and Gabe a stern look. “But I’d like everyone to be aware that Peyton has a job to do, and it has nothing to do with laundry. She’s here to promote us, not take care of us.” He lowers the notebook he is holding. “Tomorrow night is our first show. First thing in the morning, we’ll go over the set.”
Apparently, that means this meeting is adjourned, because within seconds everyone is out of their seats. Justin and Gabe immediately head to the flat-screen TV at the front and start hooking up a gaming system. Sam goes to the fridge and pulls out three beers.
Romeo glances at me and gestures to the back room. “You ready for interviews?”
“Sure,” I say, standing up. I’d sort of forgotten until now that Romeo and I had talked about me interviewing each band member to get material for the first blog posts of the tour.
Romeo nods in Sam’s direction. “He’s up first,” he says.
I feel my stomach drop.
Sam looks up at us with a sour expression. “Why me?”
“Because I need to go over some things on the phone with the concert manager,” Romeo says, looking darkly at Sam.
Without saying anything, Sam puts the beers in the fridge and marches to the back room.
We sit on opposite sides of the low square coffee table. I’m glad to have a piece of furniture in between us. Pretending nonchalance, I get out my voice recorder, a pen, and a notebook while he stares out the tiny window above my head. Invisible tension crackles in the air. We’re both as stone-faced as a couple of rockers hiding behind sunglasses on the red carpet.
Ugh. Do I really want to do this?
When Romeo had initially called me, he’d explained why he wanted me to cover the tour. He’d thought a blog with professional pictures and creative posts at least every other day would keep his current fans entertained and attract new ones. Always the skeptical journalist, I’d asked why the guys in the band couldn’t handle a blog on their own. Well, for starters, he’d said sardonically, they couldn’t take their own pictures, especially onstage, and besides, they’re not professional writers. He wanted things creative but polished.
I’d liked his answer.
Once we’d hammered out everything—my minuscule pay, his expectations, my expectations—I told him I wanted to interview everyone before the tour began. I wanted to hear the story of how Luminescent Juliet landed on this national tour from the different perspectives of each of the band members. But instead of giving me access, Romeo had insisted on putting off the interviews until the tour kicked off. Beforehand, everyone was too busy getting ready and practicing, but once we were on the bus, there would be lots of time. Instead of doing the interviews then, I’d created the blog so eventually all I had to do was plug in my first post. And I’d generated lists of questions. Needless to say, my questions for Sam were the least thought out.
Since I don’t want to start with anything personal, I ask, “How is it that Luminescent Juliet ended up on the Summer Tour of Rock?” I hit record on my machine and wait.
He shoots a skeptical look, first at me, then at the tiny recording machine. He says in a flat tone, “There are basically two reasons. One, our album made it into the top one hundred on a couple of different indie charts last month, and two, the opening band pulled out of the tour. I’m not sure if we were the only band they considered as a replacement, but when they called, it took us about two seconds to say yes.”
“Why such a quick yes?”
“This tour is major,” he says, sitting up from his slouch. “We’d been considering putting together a small tour by ourselves. It would have involved a couple of vans and us doing all the legwork. We wouldn’t have played any big arenas or made any money, so the main point would have been to build a bigger fan base On this tour, we’ll actually make some money and have the opportunity to build a bigger fan base. It was like getting a huge present dropped in our laps.”
“Though you’re all in college, would you say that Luminescent Juliet is your first priority?”
“We’re—wait.” He raises his eyebrows. “You’re running all the blog posts by Romeo before you put them up, right?”
Guessing he’s not sure how honest to be, I nod reassuringly. “Absolutely. Having Romeo approve all the posts was part of our agreement.”
“We’re playing it by ear,” says Sam, looking slightly reassured. “Band and school are both priorities right now.”
I tap my pencil on my notebook, searching my list for a neutral question. “So what is your college major?”
“English,” he says, an evasive tone returning to his voice. He slouches back into the couch.
I stop myself from curling my upper lip. I’d thought for a second that he was warming up, but now it’s obvious that I was just hoping. Boy, this is going fan-super-fucking-tastic. I look down at my notebook again. Since I don’t have any more specific questions for Sam, I glance at the list I made for Gabe.
“How long have you been playing the drums—I mean bass?”
His gaze meets mine. “Only three years.”
Clearing my throat, I glance down at the notebook page. “Any experience with music before that?”
“I played the guitar in another band. A garage band. Or since we lived in the middle of butt-fucking farmland, maybe you could call it a barn band.” He gives me a piercing look, his eyes narrowed. “What was the name of that band, Peyton?” he asks in a low tone.
The pen tightens in my grip as he waits for me to answer. “Bottle Rockets,” I say in a tone as low as his.
His gaze bores into mine. “Why are you asking me these stupid questions?”
Though I don’t want to, I flinch. “I want a bit of background on each of the members.”
He yanks that damn beanie down over his eyebrows, sits back, and crosses his arms. “You know my background.”
No. Not really. I knew him for about six months, and most of that time I was infatuated with his brother, Seth.
“Shit, Peyton, we slept together.”
Jerked out of my thoughts, my eyes flash fire at him. “Do. Not. Ever. Bring that up again,” I force out through clenched teeth. Talking about the past with Jill was hard enough. Talking about it with Sam will never happen.
Something blazes in his gaze but disappears too quickly for me to read it. “I think we’re done here,” I say coldly. “I’ll assume that all you want your background information to say is that you played guitar in garage band with your brother, who was the singer, before you joined Luminescent Juliet.”
“Don’t include the part about my brother,” he says so icily that my own former cold tone seems warm and fuzzy.
I want to know why he’s refusing to let me mention his brother, but I’m aware that he’s going to get super pissed if I ask. I’m also aware there’s no way he’s going to explain anything.
I stand up and put my hands on my hips, then glare down my nose at him. “Great start,” I say sarcastically. “Why don’t you send someone else in?”
His expression is level while I smile pleasantly at the asshat.
There’s no way I’m going to let him see how much he gets to me.