“Hold up,” Harvey interrupted. “I can’t fly. At least not for the next couple of weeks. Something about the swelling and blood clots.”
Rafe’s heart fell.Talk about kicking a man while he’s down.
“Bloody hell, Harv. I’m so sorry. That’s totally fucked up. I thought you’d at least be able to travel with us. The tour won’t be the same without you there.”
“Yeah, man. That’s fucked,” Gibbo said. “I was hoping to have a personal assistant, you know, someone to carry the luggage.”
Rafe knew Gibbo was trying to lighten the mood, but it had limited to no effect. Harvey gave half a smile. “I can’t even do up the buttons on my shirt, let alone help anyone else.” He turned his attention to his coffee.
Well, shit!Rafe knew he should be worried about the band but his concern for the impact on the tour warred with his worry about Harvey. Maybe Parker could extend his stay in Sydney to take care of his brother? He glanced at Parker across the living room. Parker was worrying his bottom lip, no doubt sharing the same concerns as Rafe. Rafe wished he was sitting next to him on the couch so he could take his hand and tell him it would be all right.
“I hate to do this, but we need to talk about what’s going to happen on the tour,” Nigel said to the quietened room. “I know it’s hard and what’s happened is horrible, but we need to focus on how we’re going to handle it.” Nigel focused on Harvey. “It’s a difficult conversation, but I know you want input.”
Harvey nodded. “Yeah. I know. It’s cool, mate.”
“Okay, good.” Nigel looked at the other guys. “First up, I’ve contacted Ricky, and he’s a no-go.”
Ricky was the main guitarist who’d filled in for the band when they’d needed it in the past. “What could be more important that coming on the tour?” Rafe asked.
“His kid is due in a couple of weeks, and there have been complications with the pregnancy, so he doesn’t want to leave the country. I also hit up Mike, but there are passport or visa issues or something like that.”
“Who the fuck doesn’t have a passport in this day and age?” RG snorted. “Oh, that’s right. He’s up on some sort of drug charge and probably can’t leave the country.”
“Anyway, nothing we can do about it now. We leave in four days, so there’s no time to sort it out. Expedited or not, he won’t be getting a passport and visa through in time, and there’s too much risk in assuming he’d be able to join us later in case his ability to leave the country doesn’t come through.”
“What about contacting Sheila Kouros?” Rafe suggested. Nigel’s colleague in the States would have heaps of contacts. “Maybe there’s someone over there who can step up. I know she manages the Bad Boys, and their sound is a lot like ours.”
Gibbo huffed. “There’s no way someone new would be able to pick up our stuff in the short time they’d have. Plus we’re supposed to be showcasing what we’re all about. How the hell is that going to work with a guitarist who doesn’t know our songs or what we’re about? Fuck.”
“What about Parker?”
All eyes shot to Harvey as he spoke.
“What?”
“Huh?”
Rafe looked to Parker.
“No! There’s no way I could do that.” Parker had his hands raised in a defensive position.
“Why the hell not?” Harvey asked his brother, ignoring the rest of them.
“I’m… ah… um… the band. It’s your thing, not mine,” Parker said, nervously glancing around before settling back on his brother.
“Don’t give me that. You can do it.Iknow you can do it, andyouknow you can do it.”
“Harvey?” Nigel asked, echoing the confusion Rafe felt.Parker to play with the band?
“If I can’t go, then there’s no one better than Parker to take my place. Parker plays as well as I do, fuck, if not better. We grew up playing together. And not only that, he knows every single one of our songs. Right, Parker?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts, you’re goddamn awesome!”
Rafe ping-ponged between the brothers as Harvey praised his brother and Parker protested.
“Stop!” Nigel stood, and both men turned his way. “Is it true?” he asked Parker. “You can play?”
