“That’s not healthy.”
“Never said it was, but maybe lugging your bazillion instruments around will give me some perspective, eh?”
Shay didn’t seem convinced, but the bus was exiting the motorway to stop at a service station, and the rest of the band was on them before he could respond.
Jumbo stomped past without looking at them. Mara grabbed Shay’s arm and hustled him off the bus, which left Ollie to catch a smoke with Ben.
They took a walk to the burger van at the back of the car park. Ben lit up and blew out an exasperated lungful of smoke. “Sorry about the drama, mate.”
“Don’t apologise. I’m sure most bands have issues on the road.”
“Yeah, we try not to be like most bands, though. And Shay didn’t deserve to cop it from Jumbo. None of this is his fault.”
A bristle of defensiveness ran through Ollie. He didn’t need Ben to tell him that Jumbo had been a prick to Shay. Or a reminder of how it had madehimfeel. Jumbo was a big guy—obviously—but Ollie could happily deck him if he upset Shay again. “I told Shay I could pitch in with lifting the gear if you can club together and get a couple of guys in. Actually, come to think of it, whereisyour gear?”
Ben winced. “Still in Glasgow. Jumbo’s cousin left the van in the car park and got the train home.”
“And no one thought to retrieve it?”
“Dude, we only found out half an hour ago.”
“So someone has to go back and get it in time for tonight’s show?”
Ben lit another cigarette. “Actually, we can get away with it tonight—it’s an acoustic set at an open studio, so we can use all their kit—but we’re playing a winter festival tomorrow afternoon, and we’re the only band on the bill, so if we don’t get it back by then, we’re fucked.”
Ollie could see where this was going. The band’s missing equipment wasn’t his problem any more than it was apparently Corina’s, but with her MIA, he was the only one with the time to hoof it to Glasgow and back again.
“No fucking way,” Shay growled when they got back on the bus. “It’s not your job to clean up our mess, and we can’t afford to pay you anyway. If you’d stuck around earlier, I’d have told you that.”
“I don’t need you to pay me. Sky is paying me enough for this gig, considering the amount of time I spend doing fuck all.”
“I’ve never seen you doing fuck all, and you told me from the start that you couldn’t afford to lose this job.”
“I wasn’t talking in monetary terms.” Ollie snuck a quick glance at Ben, who had suddenly found the coffee machine fascinating. “Unless you mean yours, because if you’re not ready for the festival tomorrow, you’ll blow your contract with that promoter. That shit ruins bands.”
“It’s true,” Ben said. “I know we say we aren’t in it for the cash, but we need to make a living, and we can’t do that if we trash this tour. We’re not Metallica. The record company will drop us for sure.”
Shay shot him a sour look. “Metallica? Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”
“I was comparing clout not musical styles.”
The conversation was going nowhere. Jumbo had remained stubbornly silent, Larry was Switzerland, and Mara had sided with Corina and disappeared in a taxi.
Ollie stood and picked up his bag. “Look, you need that gear, and I’ve got time to fetch it. Jumbo, give me the spare keys for the van.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No,” Shay echoed. “If anyone should go, it’s Jumbo. He’s the fuck-up.”
“And you’re the one too busy bitching at your boyfriend to let him get on with it.”
It was a mutinous mumble Jumbo had likely regretted the moment it was out of his mouth, but it was too late. Shay lunged at him, only to be caught by Ben.
No one caught Ollie.
Ollie grabbed Jumbo’s collar and slammed him against the wall hard enough to shake the bus. “Give me the keys.”
