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Moby caught her attention, snapping the hundred dollar bill. “Reese, next stop, we’ll go get a bite to eat and divvy this bad boy up between us. Unlike some people on this bus, I don’t carry change for hundreds.”
“Sounds good,” Reese said. But when Moby threw her a wink, she realized that he might have meant something more than a friendly meal to break the hundred. Did she just agree to a date? Moby was a flirt. Without knowing him better, she couldn’t say if he was just being normally flirtatious or asking her out.
Reese definitely wasn’t interested in sparking up some kind of tour-bus romance. Not when she already needed to douse the flames of her current tour-bus crush before they became an inferno. Staci had been so right. Her celebrity crush had morphed right into a real, live one that would be dangling in front of her face for the next two months.
Chapter Six
Sterling didn’t hear the tapping on the door at first. Then he ignored it. He could say that he couldn’t hear it over the music pumping through his earbuds. Or just say he was asleep. No one would bother him if he didn’t respond. The sliding pocked door opened. Apparently, there was one exception: Morgan.
He sat up on the bed and pulled out his earbuds as she walked in, closing the pocket door behind her. Morgan flopped on his bed near his feet. “Why are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding. I was taking a nap.”
“Uh huh. Is everything okay?”
Sterling sat up all the way and ran a hand through his hair. “Does it not seem okay? Because that’s like the twentieth time you’ve asked me that and we’ve only been on the road for like two hours.”
Morgan shook her head and bit her lip, smiling. “Sorry. I do tend to get a little overprotective. But you also seem like something’s weighing on you. I don’t want to assume and I don’t want to push you. But I’m here.”
Of all the people in his life who would get it, Morgan would. She knew him before he was famous and knew his family. Her parents still lived near his mom in LA. Their families had never been close, not the way Morgan and Sterling were, so she probably didn’t know about May. The thought of having to talk about it made him feel worse.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. Now, tell me about your grand plans, manager. What are we doing on this tour?”
He watched as she settled in, leaning back against the wall and swinging her legs up on the bed, her feet almost touching his. It was funny how fast they settled back into their old rhythms. Morgan looked a bit different with the tattoos and the pink hair, but it all felt very much like her. Back in high school they’d gotten fake IDs. Not to drink, but to get into clubs where some of their favorite rock bands were playing. She had listened to all of his original music, even his terrible early songs, and had encouraged him to send out demos. Other than May, no one had been as excited for him as Morgan.
He was truly glad to have her around again. She made him feel more grounded somehow, more like Sterling James the guy, not Sterling James the brand. It still threw him off when she called him James. He had long gotten used to the name change and thought of himself as Sterling. James had been his father’s name, though he went by Jim. The more distance there the better.
Being around Morgan and thinking about his past made him realize that he didn’t want to just give up and send money for May’s rehab. He wanted back in her life. It might not—probably wouldn’t—look the same, but he had to try. He just needed to figure out how, which might be more of a problem than the ones he was facing about his image or a rebrand.
Morgan continued. “The question is: what do you want to get out of the tour? When you called me, you mentioned a rebrand of some kind. Tell me more about that.”
Sterling hesitated. As much as he trusted Morgan, the things he had been thinking about the past year were more than just a rebrand. It was a big change. One that his previous manager had said would be career-ending. He desperately wanted people to be on board with the change and to believe that it could work for him.
“I’m looking for more than a rebrand. I’ve been toying with the idea of changing my sound. Moving toward something more acoustic rock. More stripped-down.”
Morgan’s face showed nothing but curiosity. “Your band is already pretty stripped-down: you, Moby, Chuck, and Dave. Give me some bands, just for comparison’s sake.”
“Mumford & Sons, Gregory Alan Isakov, The Lumineers, Sufjan Stevens, Ben Howard. Still edgy, but focusing on the songwriting aspect. Less rock star. More indie rock.”
She nodded. “I can see that for you. Unlike a lot of the big guys, you can handle stripped-down. You’re great a cappella or just with a guitar. And your songwriting has only gotten better.”
“You don’t hate the idea?”
She grinned. “No way. Not if it’s what you want. Plus, remember that the first songs I ever heard were you playing an old Taylor guitar in my bedroom. I know how good you are like that. We’ll just need to come up with a plan for this.”
Sterling smiled and looked down at his worn jeans. Hopefully Morgan wasn’t biased by their friendship. He didn’t want to surround himself with a bunch of people who would just agree with him. But he also didn’t want to have to fight with his inner circle about what he truly wanted. It shouldn’t be an uphill battle with his team.
“What does the label say?”
Sterling met her eyes. “My contract is actually up after this tour. They’re pressuring me to extend and stay with them, but I’m pretty sure that’s only if I keep things as are.”
“So, would you truly be indie? Or do you want to look for another label that’s open to taking some risks with you?”
“What do you think? I’m kind of torn, honestly. My label has been good to me, but I also feel like they own me. I’m itchy to feel more free.”
“I get that. Well, with this in mind, we need to have you meet with Reese about your social media and all that jazz.”
“We have to meet?”
