CHAPTER 1
TYLER
Tyler’s phone vibrated early Sunday morning, but she was already awake—worrying about the bands she managed and, honestly, everything else. The music industry was more competitive than March Madness, minus the bracket and with zero chance of a champion. It was just . . . endless.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, as there was clearly a problem. Kim wouldn’t be calling at this hour to shoot the shit about the weather.
“Sorry, dude.” Kim called everyone “dude” as a matter of principle.
Tyler groaned. “Let me guess . . .”
“Josh forgot his passport.”
Kim’s voice showed no sign of surprise. It was commonplace for musicians—at least the ones they worked with—to forget something.
“Drummers,” Tyler muttered, rubbing her eyes, not ready to start her day and definitely not with this news. “They’re the worst.”
She meant men in general, but she didn’t need to explain that to her best friend. They’d both been single for eons.
“Yeah. I know, right?” Kim slurped her drink. “But it’s my fault. As their tour manager, it’s my responsibility to check.”
“He’s an adult, isn’t he? I mean—in theory.” Tyler threw back the covers with purpose and launched herself onto the floor. “Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker while I get dressed.”
“Josh doesn’t even have a driver’s license. Otherwise he could’ve used it to board the plane.”
Tyler snorted. “That’s probably for the best.”
“At least you’re only handling their day-to-day . . .” Kim’s voice trailed off into the ether. “Shit. These earbud thingies keep slipping. Dude, I can’t believe Sebastien agreed to sign these hellions.”
Hearing her boss’s name before coffee was almost too much to bear. Tyler yanked the elastic from her topknot, a small wreath of hair tangling around her fingers.
“Fucker pawned them off on me, didn’t he? Iguaranteehe didn’t tell the Westgrays they’d be dealing withme. I’d never have taken them on willingly.”
“What’s that stupid thing he’s always saying?” Kim asked.
“More pucks on the net.”
“Yeah. Sebastien’s an idiot.” An airport announcement blared in the background. “So is Josh, for that matter. I’m looking right at him—unbelievable. He’s sprawled across an entire row of seats while people are standing. I’d send him home, but our flight leaves in, like, two hours.”
“Where are his roommates?”
“He’s tried calling and texting, but they’re probably still sleeping.”
More like passed out.
“Fucking hell,” Tyler said after a beat.
“Sorry,” Kim said. “I’ve been too easy on them. No more Mr. Nice Guy.”
“That’s a great song. I love Alice Cooper. Hey, who knew all that babysitting I did as a teenager was practice for coddling musicians. But seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m more annoyed than anything. Does he at least know where his passport is?”
“Hethinksit’s in the kitchen. Oh, and the side door’s open—well, more like broken—but text if you can’t find it.”
“Will do. I’ll let you know when I’m five minutes out.”
Tyler twisted her hair back into a topknot and checked the time. She glanced at her Shih Tzu rescue as he slept at the foot of her bed. Sneaking out of her room wasn’t an option since Rory’s hearing was almost god-like. Plus he clung to her like plastic wrap because his previous family had surrendered him to a local shelter, simply because he didn’t bark. It hardly made him defective. She wanted a little buddy, not a guard dog to protect her.
“Hi, Ror!” Did everyone give their dog a nickname? Rory Bear, Rorster, and Ror-Ror were her favorite things to call him.
