CHAPTER TWO
“I’m glad everyone’s on time for once,” Paul Landry, the band’s longtime manager, addressed the members of Wolf Pack seated before him.
“Of course I’m on time,” Ethan chided. “It’s my house.”
Wolf snickered under his hand while Paul rolled his eyes.
“I was referring to everyone else,” Paul clarified, making direct eye contact with Wolf, Marshall, and Harris.
He leaned on the edge of the large desk in Ethan’s office, because Ethan sat behind the desk as if he were the chairman of this meeting.
Wolf sat in one of the big comfy chairs next to Marshall, while Harris stood against the wall tapping out a beat on the top of the bookcase with his hands.
“I’ll get right to it,” Paul said, bringing his tablet up to eye level.
“Tour dates have been finalized. I wanted to go over the schedule in person so no one can say, ‘I didn’t know’ or ‘I must have missed it when I read the itinerary.’” Paul used a whiny voice, clearly mimicking someone but Wolf wasn’t sure who. It could have been any one of them.
Paul continued with a bunch of commitments while on tour like radio spots and performances on local late-night and early-morning TV shows.
It was the same-old, same-old and none of it interested Wolf.
They’d been touring for too many years not to know what to expect.
The tour dates were pretty much the same as well, so he basically tuned out until he heard Rocktoberfest.
“We’re doing Rocktoberfest again this year?”
“Yes. Thursday to Sunday. Black Rock City. Wolf Pack’s timeslot is Saturday at six. Other than soundcheck and a few short interviews, you’ll have the rest of the time to yourselves.”
“Awesome. We had a great time last year,” Ethan stated, while Harris and Marshall expressed their approval with smiles and nods of the head.
“Let’s try to have no drama this year,” Paul warned, glaring at Wolf.
“I didn’t do anything,” Wolf replied, hand on his chest, and it was the truth, but a laugh left his mouth before he was able to suppress it as he remembered some of the antics at last year’s Rocktoberfest.
“What’s so funny?” Ethan asked.
“Do you need to be reminded of the egging and glitter bomb incidents?”
Marshall and Harris both started laughing loudly.
“OK. That’s enough,” Paul raised a hand to quiet everyone. I still have a million things to do, so if you don’t have any questions—”
“Can we get a bigger tour bus?” Ethan interrupted.
“What’s wrong with the old tour bus?” Paul scrunched up his face with confusion and shook his head from side to side.
“It’s too small. There’s no extra room for Tyler.”
Wolf immediately turned toward Ethan. “Tyler’s coming with us?”
“If he can, when he’s not working. And Marshall’s girl might want to join us here and there.”
Paul huffed. “The tour bus isn’t a Motel 6.”
Four pairs of eyes narrowed in on Paul at the remark.
“It’s our tour bus,” Ethan replied. “Unless the label wants to spring for a private jet, we need accommodations.”
“Fine.” Paul tucked his tablet under his arm, clearly done with the meeting.
“I’ll see what I can do about an upgraded tour bus.
Expect a text and an email outlining all dates so you have them.
Ethan, I’ll send a copy to your assistant.
Enjoy the next four weeks off, everyone.
Stay healthy and don’t overdo it. Call me if you have any questions or need anything. Anything at all.”
After Paul left, the rest of them walked through Ethan’s enormous mansion to one of the back decks that overlooked the mountains.
It wasn’t a short walk either. They had to navigate a long hallway that turned and passed through several rooms. The place was incredible, but Wolf could never live in something this size.
There was too much empty space. Too many rooms. Too many floors for ghosts to wander.
The views were spectacular, though, not unlike his home a short distance away.
When they finally got to the deck, Tyler was lounging on a chaise with his face up to the sun wearing very fashionable dark shades and a tiny hot pink bathing suit that didn’t cover much.
“It wouldn’t kill you to gain a freaking ounce once in a while,” Wolf stated.
Tyler pulled his shades down the bridge of his nose with one finger while his jaw dropped open wide, and then he snorted. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” Then he picked up a furry robe with a huge fluffy collar and wrapped it around his petite little body, tying it at the waist.
“What’s all this?” Marshall asked, fanning his hand in front of an elaborate table that was set up on the deck.
“Brunch,” Tyler answered casually. “I hope everyone’s hungry.”
Ethan wrapped his arms around Tyler and stared down at him with stars in his eyes. “You did this? You’re so sweet.”
“This is fancy,” Harris added, taking a seat next to Wolf. “What are we having?”
Tyler shrugged. “I asked Chef Ravi to make something nice that you boys would enjoy. I’ll let him know we’re ready.”
While Tyler spoke into an intercom on the outside wall, Wolf snickered under his hand and leaned over to whisper to Harris.
“I can’t get over the way Ethan has this whole house wired so he can talk to his staff.
” Why the guy had a personal chef and full staff was something Wolf never understood.
Yeah, it was nice having people to do everything for you, and the size of the mansion necessitated it, but he could never live in the same house as strangers.
“I think it’s cool,” Harris replied.
“Don’t you think they might be listening in sometimes? Like, listening to things they shouldn’t be?”
“Oh. I never thought of that.”
Two servers entered, each with a rolling cart and presented everyone with plates of sliced steak, over-easy fried eggs, diced sweet potatoes, and glasses of orange juice.
Another server appeared with a tray of huge frothy mugs filled with some kind of coffee concoction topped with whipped cream, a drizzle of caramel sauce, and chocolate shavings.
Wolf stuck his finger in the whipped cream and stuck it in his mouth. “Mmm. Sweet. What is this?”
“It’s Chef Ravi’s take on an Irish coffee,” Tyler explained. “It’s got a kick so I wouldn’t suggest drinking more than one or two.”
“A kick, huh?” It wasn’t even noon yet and the drinks were spiked. Wolf took a sip from the peppermint-flavored straw and raised his brows at the hint of whiskey. “This is my kind of breakfast!”