“A little late for room service,” Bryan says, not bothering to hide his judgment. Bryan and his healthy eating habits wouldn’t last a week on the road.
The knock sounds again, louder.
“Actually, I have no idea who that is. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Catch you later,” Bryan says, then points at me. “And boundaries!”
I end the call and fling myself over the bed, swinging open the door. “Hello?”
A bald man in a name tag that reads “Harry Whittles” glares at me. “Are you Mr. Theodore Ford?”
“I am. Can I help you?”
The man puts his hands on his hips, and if I weren’t filled with foreboding, I probably would’ve smiled. “Mr. Ford, do you have any idea what your associates are currently doing to my hotel?”
Associates? For a second, I’m confused, then it hits me. “You mean the band?” Harry sniffs. “The new paperwork we got says you’re the point of contact in case of emergency. Well, we have an emergency.”
“Shit.” I clutch the door. “Are they okay?”
“If you mean the miscreants currently laying waste to my rooftop and keeping all my guests from sleeping, then yes, they are okay enough to be swimming past curfew, dancing inappropriately, consuming alcohol and who knows what other substances, and dropping—” He lowers his voice. “Condomsfilled with pool water onto the streets below.”
I stifle a groan.
“Let me put on some clothes. I’ll take care of it.”
Harry narrows his eyes. Clearly, he’ll believe it when he sees it. Inside, I change into jeans and take a minute to splash cold water on my face, rubbing my cheeks vigorously. I look at myself in the mirror and square my shoulders. “This is your chance,” I say, pointing at myself. “You’re going to convince the band to stay together, figure out why they hate you, solve it, make a record, get promoted, and then you’re going to be deliriously happy.”
My finger falters, dropping to the counter. “And if not, well, at least you’re going to go up there and save one very stressed-out hotel manager from an early stroke.”
*
The hotel’s rooftop has been converted into an upscale pool and bar, surrounded by palm trees strung with lights, andit’s an utter shit show. The hotel manager did us a courtesy in coming to find me instead of going straight to the cops. The rooftop is crowded with people. A woman in the pool is topless. There’s a circle of bongo players near the sauna, the air around them cloudy with smoke. The full California diorama.
Music’s blasting as people lounge in poolside chairs, openly snorting substances I refuse to acknowledge for legal reasons, dancing in clusters around the bar, cannonballing into the pool. Someone with professional-grade charm must’ve persuaded the hotel’s two bartenders to stay past the end of their shifts, because they’re mixing piña coladas at the tiki bar. Around the periphery, watching with horror, are a few older people in robes. Presumably, hotel guests who’ve come to find the source of the disturbance.
I scan and immediately locate the kingpin. She’s under one of the leafy palm trees, reclining on a lounge chair. She’s showered and changed since the show, and now she’s wearing a tank top, jeans with holes in the knees, and a backward baseball cap, like an insouciant thirteen-year-old boy. She brings a cigarette to her mouth and takes a drag.
Beside me, Harry surveys the scene. “I told her, three strikes and she’s out.”
I turn to him. “She’s done this before?”
“Twice. Look, I appreciate my relationship with Manifest. The hotel wants the label’s business. But at this point, I need you to get your associates under control, or I’m going to be forced to call the police.”
I put my hands up. “Harry, buddy, no need. I’ve got it.”
Based on past experience, I know it’s best to cut off mayhem at the source, so I beeline to Hannah. As she smokes, her gaze floats around the pool. Then her eyes lock on me. She grins, as if delighted to find me cutting through the middle of her rager. Like at the show, I take note of her freckled, sunlit beauty. If Iwere less experienced, I might mistake that grin as welcoming. But it’s not my first rodeo.
“Look who it is,” she says. “The Corporate Suit himself.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile. “Where are Kenny and Ripper? They didn’t feel like celebrating the dissolution of all their hard work?”
“I’m not celebrating,” she says, sharp enough that the guy in the lounge chair beside her takes off. “And they’re not talking to me right now.”
“I’m shocked.”
Hannah blows out a mouthful of smoke. I wave it away.
“Let’s cut to the chase. We need to shut this down.” I point over my shoulder to where Harry waits. “See that man? That’s Harry Whittles, the hotel manager. He says he told you not to commandeer his rooftop again or he’d call the cops. Guess what three-digit number he’s itching to dial?”
