Page 17 of Revelry

“Yeah, a cat that I hate, but she still belongs to me,” I snap. “And I have things like rent and … stuff.”

“You live in your car, Ali.”

“I do not live in my car.”

“So you just carry all of your worldly possessions around with you? Just in case?”

“Look, this is beside the point. I can’t go on tour with you.”

He leans forward, his elbows on the table-top, his gaze penetrating and firmly fixed on my face, as if he’s studying me for a chink in my armour. “Why the hell not?”

“Yeah come on Red, it’ll be fun. We can share a bunk,” Levi says.

I turn to Levi, thankful for the reprieve from Cooper’s intensely shrewd gaze. “You disgust me.”

“I can live with that.”

“Tell me you guys are kidding?” I look at Zed, and then Ash—hoping he’ll talk some sense into them—but then in the few days that I’ve known him I’ve heard him speak all of three times. Ash doesn’t cause friction or make waves, so appealing to him for amnesty is more than likely a waste of time.

“So you have a passport?” Cooper asks again.

“Of course I have a passport, everyone has a passport, but—”

“I didn’t,” Zed refutes.

“That’s because you’re a man-child, Zed,” I say, dismissing him altogether because there are way more important tasks at hand, like telling these lunatics that I’m not traveling to a foreign country with them. “Look I appreciate you guys taking me under your wing, even if it was a dick move on your part, Coop, but I can’t go on tour with you.”

“Ali, you don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, yes I do. I’ll just talk to Vanessa. She can’t make me go overseas. That’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you not seizing this opportunity while you have it,” Cooper says through clenched teeth. His eyes are narrowed and ... angry?Why is he so adamant that I go with them?

“What opportunity? To hang out with a bunch of rock stars and watch them circle jerk while we travel Stateside?”

“We don’t circle jerk,” Zed says.

“Yeah, we have groupies that do that shit for us.” Levi waggles his fingers in front of my face. “Gotta keep our hands rested up for our instruments.”

“Look at your life, Ali. Look at the way it’s going now,” Cooper says. “Now, five years’ time, where are you?”

“I don’t know, Coop, where are you?”

“In the studio, on a tour bus, playing to a crowd of thousands.”

“So exactly where you are now then?”

He nods. “Only bigger. You want to manage the world’s top bands? How the hell are you going to do that if you can’t survive one tour?”

“Not all managers go on the road. In fact, I don’t know of any that do.”

“Exactly. Think of the knowledge you’ll have. You’ll understand when your artist wants to throw in the towel, cancel the tour and come home, because you’ll have been there.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“It isn’t an option,” he counters.

“Excuse me?”