Dean remains silent.
“C’mon.” I give him an exaggerated pouty face before Drew and Paul do the same.
“Fine,” Dean concedes. “I could use some Jager.”
“Hell yeah!” Drew throws his fist in the air. “I dub this the first official party of the Renegade tour. Let’s go.”
It doesn’t take us long to leave our instruments and find the exit. As we step out into the summer night Drew says, “There’s a restaurant Mona told me about near L.A. Live. The Yard House. She said they have good food and it’s in walking distance.”
Paul looks doubtful. “You want to go somewhere our stylist recommended?”
“Would you rather pay for beer or cab fare?”
“Beer,” Paul says.
“That’s what I thought.”
Drew and Paul lead the way as we walk up some stairs and round the side of the Staples Center. Across the street is the Nokia Plaza. It’s lit up like Times Square by a huge LED screen and multiple smaller screens attached to six tall pillars. Latin music spills into the air from the open doors of a bar named The Conga Room and, after we walk across the space, we pass a Starbucks. My stomach growls for a Frappuccino, but I keep moving. Soon, I spot awnings printed with the Yard House name.
Glancing at Dean, I ask, “Is it weird we’re carrying our own promo material through downtown L.A.?”
He laughs. “If we were smart we’d start handing it out.” He looks at the people milling around. “Roxanne might kill us if we returned less than five hundred posters, though.”
“She’s …” My voice fades. “Are all managers like her?”
Dean raises an eyebrow. “You mean direct and to the point?”
“I would have said crass and bossy, but yeah.”
He smiles. “I wouldn’t know. My only other manager was Audrey, and she was family.”
We arrive at the restaurant doors where the logo boasts “Great Food, Classic Rock, and the World’s Largest Selection of Draft Beer.” We follow Paul and Drew inside. After Paul flirts with the hostess, we end up seated at two small tables side by side. Dean and I are at one, and Drew and Paul are at the other. A waiter arrives to take our drink order, and I opt for a Gin and Ginger. Drew high-fives me over the back of my chair. “First official party.” He winks.
“Is this you guys?” The waiter eyes our posters.
“Yep,” Dean says. “You coming to Ariel’s show?”
“As a matter of fact I am. I got my girlfriend tickets for her birthday.”
“Great. What are your names? I’ll give you a shout out tomorrow night.”
“You will?” The waiter looks surprised. “That would be awesome. I’m Chris and my girlfriend’s name is Whitney.”
Dean smiles. “I’m Dean. Nice to meet you.” He shakes Chris’ hand, then looks back at the menu. “I’ll take a Surly Furious, please.”
“Got it,” Chris says as my eyes dart to an ad on the table for the hoppy beer.
“What? No Jager?” I tease, remembering the liqueur Dean said he needed.
“Not when there’s decent ale around.”
The waiter leaves to get Paul and Drew’s order, and Dean reaches for a package of markers and rips it open. “Better get started,” he says and flips me a pen. We spread out the posters and start signing them. I follow Dean’s lead and scrawl my name above my head. After signing a few, I find my cell and take a picture. I caption it #signingswag and send it to Latson. Then I post it to Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and Twitter. I have to remember to do all four, since Snapchat and Twitter are new to me. Roxanne made me get the apps, so I was available to potential fans.
When Chris brings our drinks, he tells us they’re on the house. I surprised the drinks are free and accept mine with a grateful “thanks.” Dean thanks him as well before answering his vibrating phone. “Hey.” He takes a drink of his beer. “Yeah. Where are you?” He waits for their answer. “The Marriott by L.A. Live? We’re across the street, at the Yard House.” He sets his glass down and picks up a pen. “Sure. We just got here.” He signs his name. “Okay. See you in a few.” He hangs up.
“Expecting someone?” I take a sip of my drink.
“Just Heidi.”
I nearly choke. “Heidi? As in red-haired, bitch-face Heidi?”
Dean smirks. “Gunnar told me about your confrontation in his hallway. Did you not expect to see her on tour?”
I’d forgotten about that part of the conversation. “Does she know I’m here?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s none of her business who’s in my band.”
This ought to be interesting. “She’s going to be pissed when she finds out. You might lose a groupie.”
Dean shrugs. “It’s nice to have the girls around, but they’re not necessary. I let Heidi and her friends tag along because their reaction to the band stirs up interest. If she wants to play dirty, however, she can go. It makes no difference to me.”
“It might get dirty,” I warn him. “She hates me. I don’t know what I did but –”
“You stole my brother’s attention.” Dean talks as he autographs. “Heidi’s been after Gunnar since his voice changed. I think she thought the two of them would bond over Audrey’s death, but it didn’t happen. No matter how hard she tries, he doesn’t want her.”
I think about what he said. She does act like a spurned lover.
Dean continues. “You know why I call Gunnar my brother, right? I was a foster kid.”
“I know.” I smile. “Latson told me. He told me about his – your – mom, too. I’m sorry she’s sick.”
“You and me both.”
“Hey.” I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Can we get some of those pens over here?”
I grab a few and turn around to hand them to Drew. “Thanks,” he says. “Oh, and here’s a tip. The more you drink, the less you’ll feel the carpal tunnel.”
I laugh.
Dean and I continue to sign until the Eagles “Hotel California” comes on. He starts to sing and I join him, until footsteps and laughter interrupt our duet. I look up to see Heidi and her entourage approaching. They’re wearing tight, skimpy outfits with little strappy tank tops and heels. Heidi’s all big smiles and swaying hips until she sees me. Her eyes narrow and her walk slows, yet she makes it to our table. She looks down and picks up one of the band posters.
“What the hell?” she hisses and turns to Dean. “Please explain why this bitch is here.”
“I think it’s obvious.” Dean remains nonchalant. “She’s in my band.”
“Since when?”
“Since I asked her.”
“She has no talent!”
“Says who?”
“Says me!”
I pick up my glass and take a drink. This is entertaining.
“You must not have ears,” Paul says from behind me. “She’s fucking talented. And, hey, by the way, long time, no see.”
Heidi shoots him an evil glare. “You didn’t call me, remember?”
My eyebrows shoot up.
Heidi turns her attention back to Dean. “I didn’t sign up to watch her on stage.”
“Then look past her and at me,” Drew says over my head. “I’ll be the one behind the drums.”
“Or,” Paul stands, “you could not show up at all. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings any.”
Heidi scowls and focuses on me. “You’ve got them all wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”
I shrug. I refuse to get riled up. Instead, I grab a Sharpie and remove the cap. I sign another poster and ask, “Should I make this one out to Heidi or do you prefer another name?”
She slams her hand down on the table and leans into my space. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I don’t. Do you want me to sign your hand instead?” I move quickly, getting a J and an E on her skin before she yanks her hand away.
“You …” she seethes. She points at me and looks at Dean. “I’m not putting up with this!”
“No one said you had to.” Dean raises his glass. “Why don’t you take a seat and relax. Jen won’t talk to you if you don’t talk to her. Right, Jen?”
I nod.
“Ugh!” Heidi huffs and stomps off to an empty table. One of her girlfriends follows her, while the other three remain by us.