Dad’s jaw worked. “Wyoming. Still.”
“Uh-huh. A statenorthwestof Colorado, when Whispering Key is southeast. And they haven’t told you why they’re there, have they? Or why Jay was even in Colorado to begin with? I thought the latest statement from his agent said he’d cancelled his tour dates for ‘exhaustion.’ Is Colorado where tired people go? Can exhausted people be trusted to play Extravaganza concerts?”
“I have a pretty good idea why they’re in Wyoming,” Dad blustered. He stuck out his chin. “And Gage says Jayd is in good spirits. They could be here any minute now. It’s all going to befine.”
Fifty-something years old, and my dad sounded like a little kid trying desperately to believe in Santa. So sad.
“Sure, Dad. But just in case, I booked that Jimmy Buffet tribute band from over in Fruitville.”
“Aw, hells yes!” Littlejohn’s eyes lit up. “You mean Quincy Berger and the Cheez-Bergers in Paradise, right? Nicely done!”
At least someone appreciated my contributions.
Dad groaned. “You realize Jayd Rollins would be playing big venues and festivals if he hadn’t canceled his tour dates this summer? And that his first tour a couple years ago sold out? And his second one also? And he has agoldalbum?”
“So?” I demanded.
That first tour had consisted of venues smaller than this conference room, where maybe three people could squeeze in together if none of them had any concept of personal space or fire laws.
Not that I’d googled the venues, of course.
Notallof them anyway.
The second tour had been more high-profile and had even gotten written up by various bloggers and entertainment reporters, but still. I refused to be impressed.
“And,Jayd Rollins is Whispering Key’s pride and joy,” Dad continued.
“Okay, now that’s just crazy talk.” I clenched my jaw.
As any hyperventilating teenage fanboy or -girl with access to Wikipedia could tell you, Jay Don Rollins had been born and raised in Rock Gulch, Alabama, nowhere near here. The son of a bitch had only summered on the Key as a teenager, that was all, in a little cottage his stepmother’s grandmother had owned. And sure, my brothers and I had basically adopted Jay and his sister during those summers, since there were hardly any other teens on the island, but that didn’t make Jay a local, no matter what anyone said.
Especially since Jay hadn’t been back inyears.
Despite all the promises he’d made once upon a time.
“Ergo, you’re cracked in the noggin if you think ticket holders are going to be satisfied by you substituting the Cheez-Bergers in Paradise for a recording artist of Jayd’s caliber,” Dad concluded. “Who else was on your list?”
“Funny you should ask.” I unfolded the notebook paper and skimmed the contents. “Whoever suggested One Direction, I’m sorry, but they’re not likely to get back together for this—”
“Damn.” Dale Jennings sighed. “Knew it was a long shot.”
“And Perry Como died about twenty years ago, so that proved tricky—”
Lorenna McKetcham gasped and looked around at the assembled committee. “Never say so! The man was so young!”
“Shockingly, Shawn Mendes wouldn’t return my calls—”
“Figures,” Maddie said glumly. She added as an aside to her grandmother, “He never returns mine either.”
“And Taylor Swift’s people said she only does benefit concerts for kid or animal charities,” I concluded.
Toby clasped a hand to his chest but nodded in acceptance. “I’m sad but unsurprised. She’s a modern-daysaint,” he choked out. “LikeFolklorewasn’t enough of a gift to the world.”
Beale patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“And Ari Friedrich, my own personal choice, is playing Iron Pipes that weekend.Whomp, whomp. So, as it happens,” I continued, “there was exactly one act on the list the committee put together thatwasavailable to do a private concert on Labor Day weekend. Hence, the Cheez-Bergers.”
Dad grimaced. “Rafe, I gave you this job because I trusted you to do it—”
