Page 23 of Darcy
Hey guys, by the way, I’m an assassin here to resolve the little blackmail issue you’ve been having by blowing up your tour manager and his two despicable big brothers. Fancy grabbing pizza while I start the long and arduous process of moving all of their money—minus my cut—to charities who need it?
Nope. They’d either think I was insane, or they’d call the cops. Best to stick to my cover unless there’s no way out.
D4rk4ngel
thanks! It pays meh but my boss is nice. Super tired now tho, gonna catch some zzz
I don’t feel bad at all about calling them out on their shit pay rates. Hell, I doubt the band is involved in wage discussions for roadies, anyway. But it’s only fair to let them know Sully has been nice to me.
[HzD]Fr0gg0
sweet dreams
[HzD]D0dgeVip3r
night
[HzD]StoneRE1
get some rest
[HzD]Proph3t
Night.
My smile breaks free before I can remind myself that real-life Arlo is not this sweet. Then I lose it entirely as I remember that I still have to shower because we’re leaving for the next city at six-freaking-am tomorrow.
Who on earth decided that was a good idea? I bet it was Gabrielle. She acted nice, but I bet she’s a peppy morning type person.
Nine
Slate
Prophet storms into the hotel suite like a man fleeing for his life. The asshole doesn’t drink—none of us do—but tonight he heads straight for the bar, grabbing a bottle of whisky and downing it neat.
“Fuck.” Dodger sums up the feeling that’s been gripping all of us since we watched her—watchedDark—flee the VIP suite like her ass was on fire.
And what an ass it was…
The meet and greet collapsed after that. We didn’t even have the energy to pretend for the fans anymore, and they could tell. The genuine ones were good enough about being sent on their way with a few autographs and a photo, but the girls…
God, they were impossible. I swear one of them was trying to surgically attach herself to Dodger.
I’m just glad Dark didn’t see that. Shit, she probably saw enough.
Arlo collapses on the sofa, barely taking in the room. “She’s real. She’s here.”
“She’s our employee,” Dodger growls, looking at his phone—probably at her last message. “And she’s not getting paid enough.”
“She’s notouremployee,” I correct, leaning against the wall. “The agency hired her.”
Though, I’ll admit, it grates to know that she has financial ties to Miguel and his brothers.
He’s not listening. “How much do roadies even make? I thought Sully promised it was a living wage…”
I’m not getting through to him. That much is clear. He’s hyper focused on the money—like always.
Dodger isn’t a dollar chaser, not really, but money’s his fixation. We all know what it’s like to go without, but Dodger’s the only one who’s ever been truly homeless.
