Page 11 of Crimson Desires

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I wasn’t a stranger to getting up early after a long shift at work.

One of the reasons I didn’t like Greg was that he often scheduled me for clopens. “Clopens” were when someone was scheduled to work a closing shift and an opening shift consecutively. The mere idea of such a thing was an invention of Satan—and nobody could convince me otherwise.

Maybe it was because I’d been on an emotional roller coaster for the past twelve hours, but this particular clopen was brutal.

I dragged myself out of bed at seven in the morning. I took a hot shower, brushed my teeth, and took five minutes to enjoy a moment of quiet privacy as I sipped on a lukewarm cup of black coffee.

I figured that the next four weeks would be scarce in the ‘alone time’ department, so I wanted to make the most of the silence while I still had it.

Dad was kind enough to drive me to the hotel. He parked in the lot, leaning over to give me one last hug.

“You have a good time, honey,” Dad said. “Come home with some stories for me, okay? And be smart.”

“I will.”

I stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath to steady myself as I marched up to the hotel’s front entrance.

Ava was sitting in the lobby when I walked in. Her attention was consumed by her tablet.

“Hey,” I said, approaching her.

Her gaze flickered up to meet me. She nodded at my duffel bag. “You packed light. Good choice. Want to get some coffee? I think the continental breakfast is still going on for another fifteen minutes.”

Ava tucked her tablet into her Beatles canvas tote bag and led me to the hotel’s breakfast bar. The breakfast bar had been mostly picked through by the other crew members. Ava poured me a cup of black coffee as she began to rattle off my responsibilities as Wicked Crimson’s new merch attendant.

“Rule one. Photos are fine, but post any of them to social media without clearance, and I’ll have you packing faster than you can say Wicked Crimson. Rule two, ‘roadie’ is a word reserved for entitled rock stars with no respect for skilled labor. Everyone working this tour has a role and position. It’ll do you well to learn them. Three, I know you’re a merch girl—but you’re going to need to learn how to wrap a cable.”

Okay. Not too bad so far.

I took a sip of my coffee. It was substantially worse than the coffee that I’d had at home. But caffeine was caffeine. And since I was running on less than four hours of sleep, I needed all the caffeine I could get.

Ava continued to rattle off information. “Wicked Crimson is an alternative rock band. Yes, Jack Maverick was previously a pop star. But we’re trying to distance him from that phase of his life.”

“Is this like a Miley Cyrus at the VMA’s situation?” I asked. “Like, quarter-life-crisis meets rebellion-against-pop-roots?”

A grin escaped Ava’s lips. She covered it up by clearing her throat. “I’d avoid looking at it that way. Think of it more as an act of authenticity. Jack feels that Wicked Crimson is a more genuine expression of himself and his music.”

“Fair enough.”

“On top of that, there are four other members in Wicked Crimson that are just as important to the band’s success as Jack is.”

“Who are the other four?” I asked.

“You’ll meet them eventually. For now, you can just look them up online to get a gist of who they are.” Then, Ava leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone, as if to tell me a secret. “And one more thing. Relations between the crew and the band are strongly discouraged.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Maybe that’ll keep Jack Maverick the fuck away from me.”

Ava’s eyebrows raised. “That’s not a sentence I hear every day.”

I shrugged. “I’m here to do my job, get paid, and leave. I didn’t even realize that Jack was a celebrity when I first met him. So, I promise, you won’t have to worry about me.”

“It’s not you that I’m worried about,” Ava confessed. “Jack is like a brother to me. But that doesn’t mean he makes the best choices. Aster, if he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, please let me know.”

“I will.”

Ava smiled. “Good. I think we’re going to get along swimmingly.” Her phone buzzed. She withdrew it from her pocket, frowning as she looked at the name lighting up her display. “Alright, I’ve got to take this. Head to the crew bus—you’ll be able to tell which one’s which—and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes so that we can go over the tour schedule together.”

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