She walked backstage and found her bestie directing Cary’s team like a Navy SEAL commander.
“How’s it going?” Tyler asked.
“So far so good,” Kim said, adjusting her headset. “But they’re, like, working with a skeleton crew—bare-bones. It’s kind of weird for something of this magnitude.”
Tyler craned her neck. “Is Vegas around?”
“Over there.” Kim pointed across the room. Vegas was hobbling around on elbow crutches—regular ones were too short for him.
“Vegas!” Tyler jogged over. “How are you, buddy?”
“I’m pissed,” he said, balancing on his good leg. “I’m out for at least six weeks. No pay.”
“Not even a per diem?” She tightened her topknot. “You got hurt at work.”
Apparently, he’d tripped over some cables that should have been cleared hours ago. Somebody on the crew had definitely dropped the ball.
“Sebastard refused to file an insurance claim.” He shook his head, frustrated, but knowing Sebastien, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.
“That sucks.”
“It more than sucks.” Vegas turned his head and pointed at Kim. “But thanks for finding this gem. The guys are already afraid of her.”
“They should be afraid.” She laughed. “They need to know who’s in charge.”
“I’m already calling her the Boss, like Springsteen.”
That made Tyler laugh even harder.
Meanwhile, the SDM team walked down the hall. Everyone wore laminates with lanyards around their necks except for Cary—not a shocker.
“Fucking Tommy,” Vegas groaned. “I’m not in the mood for one of his epic monologues.”
Tyler frowned. “Why is Lara with them?”
“She’s been here since five,” Kim grumbled. “Fucking Tommy brought her.”
“I see you got the memo!” Cary shouted.
She squinted and mouthed,What?
“Black,” he said, gesturing between them. “We’re both wearing black.”
She started toward him, arms out for a hug—only for Tommy to swoop in and block her like a human traffic cone.
Fuck off.
“We’re having a bash at the casino later,” Tommy said. “An after-afterparty. You should come. Bring some friends.”
As if.
“Hi, Tyler!” Lara beamed, all teeth and cleavage. “How are you?”
Tyler frowned at her skimpy red dress and leopard-print heels.Jesus, put some clothes on.
When Lara started at SDM, Tyler told her to buckle down and roll up her sleeves. Instead, she unbuttoned her shirt. In the music industry, that kind of attention from men always came at a price—and a reputation.
“We’re heading up to the fucking suite,” Tommy said.
