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5.Bus Buddies

Hungry Like The Wolf // Duran Duran

"Listen up, 'cause the next three months will be hell if you don't get this right." Zack eyes me intently, his hands resting on my shoulder for ultimate focus.

"Damn. You're scaring me, bro."

He shakes his head. "No time for fear. This is where we separate the men from the boys, capiche?" He smacks my cheek with just enough sting for me to wince. "I nearly gave myself a rep when I first went on tour with Bree. The kind no boyfriend of a popstar wants, all because I didn't know the lay of the land."

"Can you calm down on the catch phrases and just give it to me straight?" I rub my cheek. I'm not hurt, but Zack doesn't need to know.

"Yeah, yeah. But I know you. You won't listen to me. Or better yet, you'll tell me you listened, blow me off, get in some kind of drama because you forgot everything I told you, then blame me for the situation you, yourself, created."

"That's oddly specific."

He taps under my chin. "It's not the first time, my young padawan."

"If you think I'm the Anakin to your Obi Wan, we both know that ended badly. Stop using that phrase."

He shakes his head again, this time with a smirk.

"Fine," he continues. "How many buses do you see parked in front of us?"

I raise a brow at his asinine question. "Three. I can count. Way past ten, if you needed to know."

"Right." He wraps an arm around me and points to the farthest one. A sleek black luxury bus with blacked out windows that looks like it cost more than a year's worth of rent for my place. "That one's talent. Bree and her closest entourage. You know us, but no you don't. So, don't even think about strolling on board to hang."

"What the fuck, man? What kind of snob are you?" I shove his arm off my shoulder.

"Has nothing to do with me. But if you act all familiar with the talent, the guys on this bus," he points to the closest bus, still a nice ride but not as shiny and new as the talent bus, "the crew bus, will eat you alive. I'm saying this to save your skin from the absolute massacre that will happen if they think for one second that you're overstepping. You will be chum in Spongebob's ocean."

"Would that make you Plankton?"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm not saying you can't talk to us, or that you can't hang when we go out. But the bus privileges are a different story. It's off limits." He puts his hands up. "I don't make the rules. If I did, you'd have free access. Well, for the most part. But Bree likes her privacy, so even then there'd be limits."

I wave a hand to stop the forward roll of this bullshit. "Whatever. I got it. Stay off your bus."

"And that one." He points to a smaller trailer hitched to a hefty pickup truck with dual tires in between the two busses he's already spoken about. This one looks retro, like a vintage RV that's been decked out. It's silver and spit shined within an inch of its life. "That's money. Investors that want to feel like they're part of the band. Or some of the producers will join us when they feel like it. When they aren't along for the ride, Bree uses it to write music or hold meetings with Char."

My ears perk up at the mention of the entire reason I'm putting up with this shit.

"So, Char stays on that one?" It's small and I wonder if it's a private trailer. Maybe she has her own quarters away from the rest of us lowlifes. Not that Bree's a lowlife, but Char did tell me she's management. She holds herself to a higher standard.