Page 33 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

Knox clears his throat. “We’ll think about it,” he says noncommittally.

“Well, be careful not to strain a few brain cells while you do,” Logan quips, his smirk wide as he and the girls stand up. “Good evening to you all. We’ll see you on the road.”

We stay silent and watch as The Electrics walk out the exit without looking back.

“Chrissy,” I say before anyone else can break the silence. She looks up at me on the stage, her eyes sick with worry. “Where’s Jordan?”

11

JORDAN

Ten minutes to seven, I nervously make my way to the hotel restaurant.

In the elevator, I check myself over in the reflective walls, running my hand down my pencil skirt and adjusting the tuck of my blouse.

Just a business dinner,I tell myself.

Nothing to worry about.

When I arrive, the hostess escorts me to a table for two set up on the far side of the room, tucked away in a private corner. At the table, Mr. Paul Monroe sits alone in a jet black suit and tie. He looks up at me with a laid back smile, his perfectly styled salt and pepper hair making him look handsome against the city backdrop behind him.

My gut rumbles with each step.

He rises as we approach, offering me a firm handshake. “It’s so nice to see you again, Jordan!” he says.

“You, too, Mr. Monroe.”

“Please order anything you want. My treat!”

It’s nothing but small talk and business highlights at first. Quick discussions of the latestGossipaheadlines and other noteworthy things. After a while, I wonder if I was just beingparanoid before and this business dinner wasn’t soconfidentialafter all.

Then the entrées arrive.

“How’s your tour going?” he asks as he sips his drink; a double shot of whiskey I can smell across the table.

“It’s going really well,” I answer.

Mr. Monroe laughs. “Again, Jordan. This time,with feeling.”

I smile. “No, really! It’s going great. Plenty of curve balls, obviously. But that’s life on the road with Criminal Records.”

He hums as he traces a fingertip along the rim of his glass. “That’s actually what I wanted to discuss with you tonight,” he says.

I chew through a bite of my club sandwich before answering. “Oh?”

“I’ve been keeping a close eye on things lately,” he says. “Closer than usual. And I’ve noticed that the Break the Rules Tour has been moreunusual than anything else. Wouldn’t you agree with that?”

“Sure,” I say. “Maybe.”

It is true. It’s not every tour we have other bands following us around, blowing holes in our tires.

“And forgive me if I’m overstepping here,” he says, “but… you look a little tired, Jordan.”

“Oh, I’m always tired,” I joke.

“Which is exactly my point,” he says. “I’ve worked in this business for many years now. I’ve seen incredible talent come and go. The last thing I ever want is for my talent managers to burn themselves out.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Monroe,” I say, waving a hand. “Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

---