After hanging up, I slide my cell into my pocket.
I wait until the guys are all sitting on the sofa around me before I speak. “That was Dina on the phone.” This brings all eyes to me.
I take the bottle of beer that Sonny is holding out to me.
“So, what’s happening?” Cale asks.
The anxious tone in his voice is not lost on me. It’s been a stressful few days.
I pop the cap on my beer. “Jake got us a replacement manager.”
“And…who is it?” Sonny pushes.
I take a quick drink and then hold the bottle in my lap. “Tom Carter.”
Sonny’s eyes widen. “Tom Carter…as in Tom Carter of The Mighty Storm. That Tom Carter?”
This feels very reminiscent of my conversation with Dina not a few minutes earlier—except mine was a kind of horror at the realization that Tom would be coming on tour with us where Sonny is at a barely containable excitement.
“Yep, the very one.” I press the bottle to my lips again. Tipping my head back, I take a bigger drink this time.
“Holy shit!” Van yells. “Tom Carter! On tour with us! Man, it’s gonna be wild! Chicks, parties…chicks! It’s gonna be so fucking wild! The man is a fucking legend!”
Sonny looks shell-shocked. Then, he springs to life. “Damn straight, he’s a legend! He’s a * legend! We are touring with the best there is! Just think of the stuff he can teach us.” He gets this dreamy look in his eyes.
Honestly, he’s starting to freak me out.
“What do you think, Cale?” Van slaps him on the back.
Cale grins. “I think it’s pretty fucking awesome.”
“Amen to that!” Sonny leans forward, clinking his beer bottle with Van’s. He high-fives Cale at the same time.
I’m just staring at them, wide-eyed and sick to the stomach.
This is exactly what I didn’t want, but I knew it would happen the instant I told them who was going on tour with us. I’m not boring. I honestly have no issue with the guys having fun. They have tons of fun and sleep with plenty of women.
But Tom Carter’s version of fun will be in a whole other league to my boys.
He’s going to ruin them and the tour.
It’s going to be more about Tom and the boys getting laid than the music. Tom’s focus will solely be on groupies instead of making sure the shows on the tour run smoothly.
I know his rep. He’s a player, not a hard worker.
We need a manager who has his eye on us at all times, not one whose eyes are all over the next chick he’s going to bang.
This is going to be a disaster.
I’m going to have to take on the role of manager, making sure the shows run smoothly, and somehow try to keep my boys in line while under Tom’s influence. If I let Tom run the show, by the end of this tour, Vintage will be dead in the water, and I’m going to be left with three clones of Tom Carter.
This reminds me of that Friends episode where Chandler and Joey start dressing and behaving like Monica’s boyfriend, Richard, because they think he’s really cool, and they want to be just like him. Both even grow a mustache like Richard’s.
Well, this is what I’m envisaging right now—three Tom Carter clones, formally known as Cale, Sonny, and Van. Instead of cigars and mustaches, it’ll be women and more women until I can’t see my boys through the layers of women they’re buried under. Vintage will die before we’ve begun, and I’ll be back to singing in shitty bars for the rest of my life.
I start chugging back on my beer, quickly emptying it, and I reach for another. I listen to the verbal diarrhea coming out of the guys’ mouths about what crazy shit they can get up to while on tour with the god of women that is Tom Carter.
I’ve just popped the cap on my beer when I feel the sofa depress beside me.
“You don’t seem overly happy that Tom Carter is our new manager,” Cale says in a quiet voice.
I turn my face to him and try to force a smile. “I am. I just—ugh,” I sigh, rubbing my hand over my face.
“You’re worried about his rep, right?”
“Yep. His rep.” And his tendency to try to get into my pants—well, mine and the rest of the population’s pants—whenever he sees me.
Cale puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “Ly, it’ll be fine. Nothing will change. And don’t worry about those two.” He points to Sonny and Van while they are currently arguing over who will score the most * on tour—after Tom, of course. “Between the two of us, we’ll be able to keep those groupie addicts on the right path.”
“And what about you?” I raise my eyebrow.
He grins. “I can control myself around women, Ly. Give me some credit.”
“Even with the influence of Tom?”
“Even with the influence of Tom. Anyway, if I couldn’t control myself, you, Lyla Summers, are the best cockblock around. You’ve been cockblocking me since high school without even meaning to.”
“Hey!” I elbow him in the ribs. “I am not a cockblock!”
“You’re a cockblock!” Sonny and Van chime in.
“Piss off!” I chuckle.