Page 41 of Love on Tour
“You like it strong, huh?”
“Like my men,” she said. “Lame, I know.”
He ordered a regular coffee and said, “Extra hot.” Then he looked at Christine and said, “Just how I like my women.”
“God, can we both be this pitiful?” she asked.
“We can, and we are.” He nudged her shoulder, and she realized that even though she looked like a bum, she was enjoying this casual repartee.
They got their drinks and settled at a table in the back.
“How’s song plugging going?” he asked.
“Going well. My relationship with Austin has helped me become more popular amongst other singers. Lynda Bell wants me to go on the road with her next weekend. She wants me to pitch her some songs.”
“That’s awesome. She’s doing pretty well, right?”
“Her first album netted two top-ten songs and a top five. I hear she’s on her way to a New-Female-Vocalist nomination. Who knew being late for the awards would be such a good thing for me?”
“Goes to show. Ya never know.” Matt tipped his cup in a toast. “How’s the social media glare?”
“It’s slowed down for now. I think if I stay away from Austin, I’ll be fine. But is it fair for me to let go of a good thing because of stupid stuff like that?”
“Is it really a good thing? You’ve seen him on the road, heard his antics. There aren’t many secrets on a band bus.”
“He’s a mess, but yes, it’s a good thing. So, we will see. Maybe the next time I’m out with him, nobody will say anything. It should be old news by now. I can always hope. What about you? How’s tour managing?” She took a sip of her chai, looking at him over the rim of the cup. She could tell he was one of those guys who had no idea how sexy he was. She’d watched women flirt with him in the meet-and-greet line. Some were blatant, asking what he was doing after the show. Others were more subtle, putting a hand on his arm or giving him a long hug to say thank you. He’d respond politely and get right back to doing his job. She’d mentioned it to Austin. He’d shrugged and said Matt never seemed to notice chicks coming on to him. That made him even more attractive to Christine.
“With Austin’s band, it’s not just Austin who has fans. The whole band has their own groupies. And trying to manage that is like nailing Jell-O to a tree. I keep thinking if I hang in long enough, they’re bound to grow up, fall in love, and get married. But hell, that could take years—decades, even. I’m not sure I can make it.”
“You know you can. Those guys love you. I can see it. They treat you like you’re one of them.”
“Thank God. Could you imagine if they didn’t?”
“How did you end up as Austin’s tour manager?”
“It was a random meeting. I went to college for business and got my MBA. I worked as a stockbroker and did very well. Was on the fast track, making a lot of money, and single with no kids. Everything was going toward retirement ’cause I had no one to spend it on. But I was bored out of my mind. I was nearingmy mid-thirties and having an early midlife crisis. All I needed was a sports car.”
Christine had a quick visual of him looking hot in a Corvette. She said, “How’d you meet Austin?”
“A friend of mine works for a radio station and had a dinner appointment with him. He invited me. I liked Austin’s music but also his personality. He didn’t take himself too seriously and wasn’t trying to act like the coolest guy in the room. Yet he was clearly the coolest guy in the room. After my friend left, Austin and I stayed and talked over a pitcher of beer. I told him I envied the life he was living, he asked about what I did, and we were both equally impressed. He knew he couldn’t pay me what I was making but offered me a percentage of future earnings, which had the potential to be huge.”
“More than huge. It was a risk, but what a payoff,” Christine said.
“So, here I am. No longer tied to a desk every day and trying to keep these guys from having too much fun while they’re out there. It’s a balance.”
“And what about you? Do you have any fun out on the road?” She wanted him to say no but was afraid she’d have to sit through stories about his own groupies.
“Only when pretty women drink Fireball and eatwheatcookies,” he said, causing Christine to inhale her chai tea, sending it down the wrong pipe. She grabbed a napkin and coughed until her eyes watered.
“Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Matt said. He handed her another napkin.
“No, it’s fine. It just caught me off guard.”
Her comfort level dropped a notch at the memory of that night. The way he broke eye contact and focused on his coffee made her think he was also a little uncomfortable. They finished their drinks in silence and both stood at the same time.
“Thanks for inviting me. This was nice,” Matt said.
Christine fished through her brain for something to say that would bring the levity back. “Well, I’d invite you back to my apartment, but considering my purchases . . .”
