Page 11 of Loved Out Loud
“Grow up, Hazel. Call me when you do.”
The line goes dead as he hangs up on me. I feel like I’m eleven all over again, watching my dad walk out of our front door while he looks at me and says that him leaving was my fault. That pain never goes away.
Speaking of my dad, I pull up the tour schedule and look at the two shows and signings we have in Chicago. There’s also an extra two nights bookending the weekend there. My dad lives there with his wife and their two kids, both of which I’ve never met. I don’t even know if they know I exist. But I’d like to know them.
Part of me wonders if I should put myself out there now that it’s been years since he left. Surely he’d want to know just a little about me. I know I want to know about him. Mom and Grams are against it, but they trust my judgement. I have a few weeks before we get to him, though.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten yet today. I was too nervous for breakfast, and now it’s caught up to me. Before deciding on dining in the lobby restaurant, I change from my skirt and blouse to a pair of jean shorts and an oversize sweater that hangs off one of my shoulders. I still have a full face of makeup, and my hair has hung onto the curls from earlier, so I leave it down.
When I get downstairs I realize the lobby restaurant has already closed for the night, but the bar is still open with limited menu options. I take a seat at the end of the bar, giving me a great view of the expanse of the lobby, so I can people watch while I eat.
After the bartender takes my order and slides a glass of wine across the bar to me, I relax back into my seat. There’s a couple in the corner sitting side by side and turned toward one another. Their body language screamsnew couple still in the honeymoon phase.There’s a guy in a suit at the opposite end of the bar who seems to be studying his phone intently.
The peace of the late evening crowd lulls me into complacency. Hope begins to grow inside my chest that this adventure I’m about to embark on will be positive. I imagine nights like this, where I can settle in and relax at night, writing as new people and places feed me a constant stream of inspiration.
But that hope is doused with a bucket of ice cold water as Blue Sunday and their entourage walk through the door. All three band members have women hanging off them as they walk through the lobby and head straight for the elevators. A tall, statuesque woman trails after them with a man I recognize as the band’s manager. They stop in the lobby to speak. His eyes meet mine as he glances over her shoulder.
It takes him a second, but recognition flashes, and he squeezes her shoulder, turning her around and pointing in my direction. She smiles at me, wide and friendly, which I return hesitantly. They exchange a few more words, and then he’s stalking off toward the elevators, and she’s making a bee line for me.
She pulls out the barstool beside mine and takes a seat. “I’m Jade, Blue Sunday’s publicist and social media manager.”
I shake her outstretched hand. “Hazel Archer. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. How was your signing today?”
“It was great.” I settle back into my seat. “Mind blowing, if I’m being honest. I didn’t expect so many people to show up.”
“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to go to one with you, if you’ll have me, of course.”
The way she says it is so genuine I have to believe she’s actually interested and not just being polite. When the bartender comes over, she looks at my glass of red and orders the same for herself.
“I’m assuming you remember Stone from the morning show? Tomorrow you’ll officially meet the other band members and manager. We’ll all be riding the bus together. You’ll also get an all-access pass for each stop that will get you in anywhere in each venue, not that it’s expected of you to attend every concert. But you are most certainly welcome to.”
“Great.” I give her a quick smile.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Not really. Aside from what it’s like living on a tour bus with three rock stars.” I laugh nervously. “This is definitely outside my wheelhouse.”
“The guys are actually pretty great most of the time. They’re more like brothers at this point than anything else. Very tight knit and won’t hesitate to close ranks when one of them is hurt or facing scrutiny.”
“Are they upset about this?” I gesture toward myself. “It can’t feel great to find out a random stranger is going to be hijacking your tour.”
“If they weren’t okay with it, it wouldn’t be happening.”
I nod slowly. That’s good to hear.
She watches me for a minute. “Can I give you one piece of advice though?”
“Yes, please.”
“Don’t give them too much of a leash. They’re great guys, but they are guys. Horny, powerful, hot rock stars who don’t often hear the word no. Demand respect from them right from the beginning, and you won’t have to fight for it down the road. Despite being their publicist I don’t center my world around them. And I definitely don’t take their shit.”
“That might be a challenge for me as a chronic people pleaser.”
She smirks. “Stick with me, and I’ll show you how to keep them in line.”
“I noticed the women they walked in with. Are there going to be a lot of random people on the bus with us?”
