Page 14 of Out of the Blue

“It’s a short gig. Three months on the road, following the band and capturing their moments to post across social media. They’re going to be the opening band for Hunte, so they’re not headliners or anything. But we have to uphold our obligations. You’ll report to our Marketing VP, Kevin Hewitt.”

I keep twirling my locks around my pinky. Three months on the road? Meaning I won’t have to sleep on my mother’s pullout? And if I’m touring with them, does it mean my meals will be covered, too? I’ll be able to save all my salary. Or, more accurately, pay down bills with it.

While I’m thinking, he sweetens the pot. “It’ll mean you’ll get a raise.”

A weight lifts off my shoulders. Before another person walks by with more experience, I rush, “I’ll take it.”

Relief washes over his face. “Good. Thanks.” He reaches past me to grab a pen and a manila folder on his desk and flips it open. “Here’s the contract.” He crosses something out. “Write in your name and contact information and initial it. Let me know if you have any questions. I’ll be right back.”

He presents a stapled document to me, drops his pen, and exits his office. For the first time since Big Rolls kicked me out of his life and my job, I release a cleansing breath. Fate must be smiling at me. Seeing the space for me to add my name and address, I pick up his Mont Blanc pen and fill in the required information.Damn. This pen is a dream.

I skim the rest of the page, my eyes landing on the paragraph labeled “Salary.” They pop at the amount I’ll be getting for three whole months. This gig will pay off Juanita’s tuition in no time, with some leftover for those damn credit card bills my ex left me.

The next paragraph, describes the “competition.” As I understand it, The Light Rail—the name of the opening band I’m assigned to help—is up to win some sort of competition against another band called California Skies, and if they do, this contract will be extended for the remainder of Hunte’s tour. The competition is based upon Apex’s observations, audience attention and reaction, media coverage, increased number of social media fans, and rapport with Hunte. I grew my ex’s social media following exponentially in a few months, and I can do it again. Disappearing debt tantalizes me. Not bothering to even look at the rest of the document, I flip to the last page and sign my name before Mr. Griffith can change his mind. I replace his precious pen on the desk.

Leaning back into his plush leather chair, I close my eyes and imagine myself surrounded by such luxuries all the time. How my life would be so much better. Then reality rears its ugly head, and I sigh. At least some of my money woes will be gone.

Before I let myself get too used to these high-end details, I rise to my feet. Almost immediately, Mr. Griffith reappears in his office. “All signed.”

“Great.” He strides past me, picks up the expensive pen, and signs his name to the right of mine. “Can you make a copy of this for your records?”

“Of course.” I go to the copier then return the original to him, an unusual feeling floating through my body:excitement. Since I’m reporting to the band tomorrow, I double back to my desk and make a list of outstanding items from my current job and forward them to Mr. Tenley.

Finished, I check the clock and figure about an hour of Hunte’s performance remains. Might as well catch the end of the concert at Madison Square Garden, and maybe even meet this band I’m now working for. Not to mention grab more grub and get a much-deserved celebratory drink.

I practically skip over to the Garden and, Apex lanyard around my neck, go straight to the room with the free food and booze. And it hits me. For the next three months, I won’t have to subsist on Rita’s pity offerings. The song “Luck Be a Lady” rings through my head for a split-second before a wall of Hunte’s music drowns it out. Snagging a couple more finger sandwiches and another slice of flan, I make my way to the bar and order a Vodka Seltzer with a festive twist of lime. When the bartender delivers it to me, I savor the flavor floating down my throat. So much better than the free virgin ones I’ve been relegated to drinking.

All of a sudden, a bunch of well-dressed people I’ve never seen before rush through the doors, cross the room, and go through a door marked “Stage.” Unsure of what’s going on, I join the rest of the group backstage, remaining out of the audience’s view. An unknown man walks across the stage, causing the music to stop haphazardly. Braxton Hunte—Oh My God is he freaking hot!—twirls around. His eyes get huge as he stares at the man approaching him in a pair of dark jeans, black boots, and a blazer over a button-down shirt.

Rita’s not far away. I sidle over to her and whisper, “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but this must be what the buzz has been about,” she responds.

The unknown man takes the microphone away from Braxton’s trembling hand.Trembling?“Hello, New York City!” The crowd cheers at being recognized. “I’m Ted Mazur, and I’ve been tasked to come here to let you all in on a big secret. Before I tell you, though, you’ll have to promise me you’ll tell everyone you know, okay?”

Laughter bubbles up from the audience. I raise my hands, palms up, at Rita, who shrugs. We turn our attention back to the stage.

“Sounds like we’re on the same page. The reason I’m interrupting your concert is because I have the very distinct pleasure to announce that Hunte will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year.”

Rita, normally more reserved, jumps up and down, whooping it up.

Unable to restrain myself, I join her. My mind immediately goes to my new assignment. Maybe, if my marketing is good enough, I can help The Light Rail win this competition and become theHall of FameHunte’s opening band for the duration of this tour. And then I can keep this job. Together with the money it brings.Maybe.

I grab my cell phone and snap a few photos to commemorate this occasion. I’m sure Hunte’s marketing team will post about this. Too bad I haven’t met The Light Rail yet, or I’d chronicle their reactions.

Before the shouts end, Ted shakes the hands of all the band members up on stage, salutes the arena, and walks back toward where I’m standing. The band hugs each other, then Braxton retakes the mic. “Now that was the best surprise. And I’m happy our families got to share this moment with me.” He points to the front of the stage. “My wife, Sara, my son King and his fiancée Angie, plus my daughter Melody and her fiancé Charles are all in the audience.” He rattles off other family members of his bandmates before saying, “Now I think it’s time we showed you all that ‘Love Rules.’” The band starts in on one of their numerous chart-topping hits.

Backtracking to the room, I deviate from my norm and chatter with the people around me about this news. I even discuss it with myformerboss Mr. Tenley. When I inform him of my new assignment, he wishes me well. He even gives me a genuine smile. Seems like he wants me to succeed. Wow.

Alone for a second, my mind works overtime and my earlier idea expands. If I can’t get a shot of The Light Rail with Hunte, I can at least show their reaction to touring with a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame band. I find Rita. “Hey, do you know any members of the opening band?”

“Yeah. I was able to meet them when you disappeared. Where did you go, by the way?”

I fill my co-worker in about my new position, which elicits another hug. “You’re going to blow their socks off. Mark my words.”

Her confidence in me, even without knowing much about my experience, is a rush. “I plan to. But, first, I need to meet them.”

“Oh, right.” She scans the room. “Ah, there they are.” She gestures across the way where a group of about twenty or so people are talking.

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