Let the Music Play - 4. Fish out of Water

As a result of adding up the clues, Brandon thought he knew. Looking at Chase and Eric in turn, he searched for any sign on their grinning faces. Finding none, and reminding himself to never play poker with these guys, he smiled, remembering Eric’s interest in why he’d picked up that magazine, and that Eric had handed him a very revealing swimsuit to wear. “I think I’ve got it this time...”

Brandon, a self-satisfied smirk growing on his face, paused for a moment, letting the tension build, before turning to nod in Eric’s direction. A wheezing sound from his right, followed by Chase’s raucous howl of laugher, clued Brandon in that he’d done it again. Jon began to crack up, spilling his wine cooler into the hot tub in the process as Eric, leaning his head back to look up at the dark sky, began to laugh.

His cheeks burning, Brandon had no doubt that he’d picked the wrong one. Sliding down, Brandon submerged his head, only to surface with the sound of Chase’s voice in his ears. “Brandon, dude, you gotta get that gaydar of yours fixed, or they’re gonna take away your queer card.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve been threatened with that today,” mumbled Brandon, blushing furiously, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, “Okay, so maybe my gaydar’s been on the fritz lately.”

Eric guffawed, holding his side. “Yeah, like that’s a surprise. So, why did you think it was me?”

“Well, uh… you asked me a few questions after I took my shower, so I guessed based on that.”

“What kind of questions?” asked a curious Chase.

Brandon stiffened, realizing he might have put his foot in it big time by opening up a line of conversation he’d rather not pursue; Chase, he now knew, was gay, but he sure didn’t want Chase knowing that he found him attractive. What if Chase didn’t feel the same way? They hardly knew each other and this could make things awkward for everyone. Brandon glared at Eric, begging him with his eyes not to tell.

Eric shrugged, “Just some stuff about music.”

Brandon nervously found Chase’s gaze, “So, you, huh?”

“Wow, he got it right this time,” Chase grinned, “And don’t feel bad; I don’t have gaydar either.”

Poking a little fun at himself, Brandon replied, “Hey, I’ve got it, it’s just not real reliable sometimes.” They all shared a good laugh over that.

After relaxing a while in the tub, they got out and headed inside to sit on towels around the table in Eric’s suite, no one bothering to change. After a few more rounds, they all had a good buzz going, and Brandon said, “I guess I should have figured it out sooner. You guys told me that Lump was a homophobe, and that he and Chase didn’t get along. I should have figured that out right away.”

Jon knocked back the remains of a wine cooler before cracking open another. “We all had trouble with him in different ways. Lump had arguments with Chase long before he found out, but that sure changed things for the worse, once he knew.”

Chase set his beer down to add, “Once he found out, he went and told our father and the shit really hit the fan. That’s why none of us speak to Mom or Dad anymore, and they won’t speak to me at all, won’t even acknowledge that I exist.”

Picking up on the hurt in Chase’ voice, Brandon shared his own story. “I kinda know how that feels; my parents decided to snoop in my computer and found some links to gay fiction sites. Not porn, just fiction stories. They confronted me when I got home from work and I came clean, admitted it, thinking that they would eventually understand. Big mistake; they tossed me out on the spot, a couple of days before I turned eighteen. I had my car, a hundred bucks to my name, and nowhere to go. I slept in my car for a few days, and then asked several of my close friends if I could crash with them while I got on my feet. My folks had called a few to warn them, but one friend was cool with it and let me stay at his place. I had to drop out of college and work full-time, and got myself a studio apartment. The job I had ended a few weeks later. There was nothing left for me in Phoenix, so when I saw an ad for a roadie and knew I was qualified, I went for it and here I am.”

After a few expressions of sympathy, the four guys, their swimsuits having dried, settled into the armchairs in Eric’s suite, talking and drinking far into the night.

Eventually, one by one, the alcohol and the long day had its effect and three brothers fell asleep. Brandon tried to figure out what to do; he was buzzed, but so excited about all that had happened that he wasn’t sleepy. Checking a clock, he was shocked to see that it was well after four a.m. He winced; he had to be at work in less than three hours.

Brandon got up, heading for the bathroom where he left the swimsuit over a rail. Throwing on his old sweaty clothes, he crept out of the suite. It was a long and somewhat scary hike to the dive motel where he had a room, and he wished he had enough for a cab, but he knew he didn’t, so set off on the all-too-familiar five-mile walk.

Arriving back at his room, he again checked the time; five-thirty. Brandon stifled a curse; just enough time to change, grab some food, and get to work before seven. Racing against the clock, he arrived at the studio with one minute to spare, immediately starting work on the sound gear.

By eleven, in spite of a quick shower during his break, he was really feeling the lack of sleep and fighting to stay alert, when Eric, Jon, and Chase showed up. They greeted him, Jon noticing right away that Brandon was a little clumsy and disoriented. Helen joined them, noticing the same thing. She took the three brothers aside and told them, “I see Brandon’s a little wasted. Guys, we had this problem with Lump, so be real careful here okay? Brandon might have some problems.”

Jon nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I saw that too. We were all up late drinking, and when I woke up and headed back to my room around six, he was gone. Maybe he just kept on partying somewhere, it’s a big event for him, but we need to keep an eye on this. One time doesn’t mean much, and he didn’t seem to have any trouble yesterday, but after Lump, yeah, we need to be careful.”

Eric nodded, but Chase argued, “Guys, it’s one time, if that, and like you say he was celebrating. Maybe he just gets bad hangovers. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, okay? I’ll go talk to him and see how bad he is...”

Chase left to find Brandon, and Helen commented, “Guys, just beware, he looks like he hasn’t slept at all and he’s so out of it he’s doing his former job. I don’t know what he’s on, but if he’s got a habit, give him an ultimatum; rehab, or he’s gone.”

A few minutes later Chase returned with a strange expression on his face. Eric asked, “So, find out anything?”

Chase groaned, “Oh yeah, he’s a wreck all right, but he’s not wasted; it’s just lack of sleep. I only had a few minutes to talk with him and I had to press for the info, but the short version is that when we all fell asleep, he headed back to his room to eat and get clean clothes for work. It’s over a half-hour walk each way. By the time he got there he didn’t have time to sleep, because he had to be at work by seven sharp.”

Jon, Eric, and Helen raised their eyebrows at that, and Helen asked, “Work? What do you mean? I thought you guys asked him to join and he did?”

With a grimace, Chase replied, “We did, but in all the excitement I guess no one told him that he didn’t have to keep his roadie or sound tech jobs anymore. He gets up around five a.m. every day, so the last time he had any real sleep was five yesterday; that’s why he’s wrecked. Hell, who wouldn’t be after that much time without sleep, plus the long walk to and from his room?”

Jon broke the stunned silence to ask, “Why didn’t he just crash out with us? That’s what I assumed he’d do. Or at least grab a cab? I wouldn’t want to walk around these streets at four in the fucking morning.”

“He said he needed to get back to his place for clean clothes, and as for why he didn’t get a cab, he admitted that he couldn’t afford one. He got called away to go work on the wiring before I could talk with him anymore.”

Helen growled, “You mean to tell me he’s still trying to keep his roadie job, and he hasn’t slept in almost two days? I think somebody needs to straighten him out in a hurry, like right now. I like his commitment, but you guys will need to keep something in mind; Brandon is now very much a fish out of water. All this is new to him. He’s had it rough, barely scraping by, so he’s going to be uneasy, self-conscious, and likely make some bad assumptions, like he did today.”

Wasting no time, Eric said, “Let’s go find him and get him to go grab some sleep, and later we can fill him in on the rest.”

The four of them headed for the auditorium, Jon spotting Brandon high in the scaffolding over the stage. Helen caught his eye and motioned for him to join them. Brandon climbed down, barely setting foot on the stage before Jon told him, “We just found out you’re trying to keep your roadie job, and haven’t slept in two days. Dude, you need some sleep, like right now, so go crash out in my room.” Jon started to hand Brandon his room key card.

Brandon shook his head in protest, “Guys, I can’t. Gabe will fire me in a heartbeat.”

Throwing an arm around Brandon’s shoulder, Eric told him, “Dude, you don’t seem to understand; you’re one of us now. That means, amongst other things, you’re one of Gabe’s bosses, and he can’t exactly fire his boss. Besides, why do you want to keep working as a roadie? We need you to concentrate on the new album and getting ready for the Phoenix concert.”

“I’ll keep up my end, I promise. I stayed up way too late last night celebrating with you guys, and I’ll be more careful in the future. I can’t quit because I need the money. I’ve got to pay fifteen bucks a day for my room or they’ll throw me out, and I gotta eat. I’m sure there’ll be other expenses I haven’t got a clue about. I just hope they won’t be too much,” Brandon said as he cast a hopeful look at Helen, wanting some feedback on expenses he’d be expected to pay. He couldn’t read her expression, though he was puzzled by the bemused looks from the three brothers.

Taking his new lead singer by the arm, Jon explained, “When we invited you in, it was as a full member; that means a fourth of everything.”

In his sleep-deprived, exhausted state, Brandon misunderstood, his heart sinking; he knew that just the cost of the studio was over two grand a day, and no way on earth could he meet his share of that. Helen read his expression, so she added, “He means the income too, Brandon.”

Brandon gave her a puzzled look, so she continued, “First, you need to go get some sleep, right now; we can get into details later. The short version is; you don’t need to do any more tech or roadie stuff. What you do need to do is like they said, work on the album and get ready for Phoenix… Believe me, that’s a full-time job and then some.”

Helen stopped as she was interrupted by a bellow from Gabe, who had arrived at the side of the stage, “Brandon, you aren’t being paid to stand around and schmooze with the talent, so get the fuck back to work right now, or pack up your stuff.”

His old reflexes kicking in, Brandon, with a confused look, spun to face Gabe. Eric, who had never liked Gabe, decided to have some fun. Noticing the flash of anger in Helen’s eyes, he moved fast to get to him first, before she could rip into Gabe; that was a job he wanted to do himself, in his own special way. Motioning for Brandon to follow, Eric walked up to the Road Boss, a cheerful smile on his face, “There’ve been a few changes around here that might be of interest to you. Let me introduce you to Brandon, the new lead singer of Instinct, which incidentally, amongst other things, makes him your new boss.”

Gabe’s jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open for a moment as he fixed Brandon in an angry glare. “Last I heard, that was Joe Clump’s job.”

With a smile turned suddenly cold, Eric replied, “Well, now you know different.”

Gabe turned and stalked off without another word. Brandon, a tired smile forming on his face, quipped, “That went well…”

Eric laughed. “I think he’s just shocked to find out he’s been an asshole to a guy who’s now his boss. By the way, fire him if you feel like it; I don’t like him anyway and I’m sure the other guys wouldn’t object at all.”

Brandon was stunned at the turn of events, but was too tired to do more than shrug, let alone think. As they returned to where the others were standing, Helen took over, “Brandon, we can straighten out the details later, but right now, you need sleep, so take Jon’s key and go, right now. If you want anything to eat or drink, just order room service; they have good food at that hotel.”

Turning to his band mates, Brandon asked, “When do we rehearse?”

Jon crossed his arms, his body language firm, “When you wake up, but go crash out and sleep as long as you want. We have some instrumentals we need to work on, so you won’t be holding us back. My suite has two bedrooms, and the empty one is the second door on the right as you go in.”

“Okay, but I’ll just grab an hour and be back down…”

Helen cut him off, “Brandon, you will do no such thing! What you will do is go sleep as long as you need, because these guys need you rested, not a zombie. Now, go to Jon’s room, order whatever you want to eat or drink, then sleep. And if you don’t go, right now, I’m going to hit you.” Helen stood with her hands on her hips, and Brandon thought she was joking about hitting him, though he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Told ya she’s bossy. If I were you I’d do as she says, so go,” Jon said with a chuckle.

Brandon smiled; he really did need some sleep, so he took Jon’s key card and left, barely remembering the way through to the hotel from the night before.

Getting out of the elevator on the top floor, he headed for what he thought was Jon’s door, as it was to the right of Eric’s. The key worked, and Brandon quickly found the bedroom. It was a far cry from his own; a large four-poster bed, built-in headboard and end tables, and the subdued red glare of an alarm clock. Crawling onto the bed, he was surprised as he sank into the pillow top. Stretching out, he reached for the alarm, intending to set it, letting his eyes close, just for a second....

 * * *

Eying his notes from the meeting, The Scar glanced up at the window, taking in Rome’s busy skyline. He felt pleased with himself; everything had gone according to plan, and the deal had been tentatively set.

Leaving his hotel, he turned right at the base of the Spanish Steps, pausing just long enough to admire the little boat-shaped fountain. Walking south past the little shops and cafes, he wondered if he could really bring his plans to life. There was so much to do, so many obstacles to overcome.

Passing a small restaurant, he glanced in, recalling the superb manicotti they served; the pasta crisped in butter, the sauce pure perfection. He promised himself a dinner there, or several, for he would be in Rome for many days. A subtle roar began to fill the street as he neared the end of a solid row of four-story buildings, approaching a small piazza. As he entered, he glanced to his right, seeing the familiar cascades of the famous edifice that capped the end of the row of buildings. Turning back north to face it, he admired the familiar statuary, and the water cascading over the artful imitations of rocks. Walking down the three terraces, ignoring the lovers sitting in the sun on the wall, he fished in his pocket for a coin.

Finding the silver dollar he’d brought along for the purpose and chuckling at his own superstitions, he flicked the coin towards the pool at the base of the Trevi Fountain, wondering if it really could grant a wish, or at least allow him to return to the eternal city one day. He’d always tossed in a coin on his many previous visits, chuckling to himself that it had worked so far. He promised himself that he would return again, if he survived.

His stomach growling, his thoughts turned to lunch. A fond memory made the choice an easy one, so he spun on his heel, heading west as the ever-present pigeons waddled out of his way, towards a little pizzeria a block away that served the best calzones he’d ever had. Life, he mused, was being pretty good to him lately.

* * *

As soon as Brandon had left for the suite, Helen turned to the brothers and said, “Let’s go back to your lounge, we need to talk, now.” They quickly walked down the hall, the brothers wondering why Helen was so agitated.

They had no sooner sat down in their lounge than Helen announced, “Something Brandon said bothers the fuck out of me and I think we may have a major problem here.”

Eric jumped in to defend his new friend. “Helen, relax. He’s just overtired, not a junkie. Hell, he wouldn’t even have a drink with us yesterday afternoon because we were playing a few sets later on, so no way would he get wasted before a concert or come in to the studio trashed all the time.”

Dismissing Eric with a wave of her hand, Helen snapped, “This isn’t about Brandon, not exactly. I’ve got no problems with him now. What he said was that he had to pay fifteen bucks a day for his room. Think about that, and ask yourself why he’s doing that, when the fucking rooms for the crew are paid by the band?”

Jon picked up on it first, a second before his brothers did. “Oh, shit. Yeah, we do pay for that, don’t we? Where is he supposed to be staying anyway? There’s a Holiday Inn right around the corner, so I assumed the crew was staying there. It never clicked when I heard it was a half hour walk back to his room, and now that I think of it, what kind of place has fifteen-dollar rooms? Sounds like a rat hole...”

Helen growled, “Yeah, so where is the crew staying, and why isn’t Brandon staying with them? I don’t handle the crew benefits, that’s Gabe’s job as Road Boss. I don’t have authority over the crew or crew expenses; your father set it up that way. I can’t even look at the books to find out, without an authorization from you.”

Jon clapped his hands, “Okay guys, snap vote; we need Helen to be able to check this out. Brandon isn’t here, but three votes caries it anyway, anybody opposed?” Jon paused for a moment before scribbling an authorization note on a scrap of paper, which he and his brothers signed. Handing it to Helen, he told her, “See what you can find out. Do whatever you need to do.”

Helen took off like a shot, saying over her shoulder, “This shouldn’t take long, some of the records I need are in the studio office right down the hall.”

The three brothers exchanged worried glances as Helen left. Chase, still confused, asked, “So, let me get this straight, what exactly does Helen suspect?”

Jon summed it up, “We pay for the crew’s rooms. Brandon was crew, yet he’s been paying his own way. She’s wondering if somebody is skimming the room money.”

All three fell silent for a moment, staring out the window, lost in their angry thoughts, nearly jumping out of their skins when Helen burst back in, slamming the door behind her before yelling, “I grabbed a few of our road crew on my way to the office. Two of ‘em are paying for their own places just like Brandon, and their own meals as well, and guess what, the main ledger shows that you guys shelled out for rooms for everyone at the Holiday Inn. Guys, we have a thief on the team.”

Chase slammed his fist on the table. “What do we do? That’s our crew being screwed over, not just us. ”

With a smug smile, Helen replied, “We nail the son-of-a-bitch, that’s what. Give me a few hours to do some digging. I’ll check back and find out how long this has been going on, and who besides Gabe is involved. When Brandon wakes up, bring him up to speed on this, and I’ll want to talk to him too. But nobody wakes him up, got that?”

Helen left, charging out, her face red with anger. The three brothers returned to the stage to work on some tracks, a bit over-awed by recent events.

 * * *

Rolling over, unsure at first where he was, taking in the luxurious surroundings with a start, Brandon woke up. Remembering that he was in Jon’s suite and why, he eyed the clock, seeing it was almost three in the afternoon; he’d been asleep almost four hours. Leaping out of bed, still fully clothed, he dashed into the bathroom to throw some cold water on his face before tearing out of the suite.

Trotting onto the stage, Brandon found the three brothers between sets, and all three shirtless.

Jon greeted him with a warm smile, “Didn’t expect you back so soon, sleep okay?”

“Yeah, great thanks. So, want to do a few sets?”

By way of reply, Chase began the drum lead-in to ‘Beyond’. Brandon snatched up the mike, starting into the song, soon hitting his pace, launching into his stage act. Pausing only long enough to shed his shirt between sets, tossing it atop those of his new friends, Brandon lead them through three near-perfect sets.

Returning to their lounge to take a break, leaving their shirts where they had tossed them at the back of the stage, they passed a vending machine. Chase, who was bringing up the rear to enjoy a good view of Brandon’s muscular bare back, noticed him giving the vending machine a lingering glance.

With that glance in mind, and having a good guess as to its cause, Chase’s first question when they got to the lounge was, “Brandon, you hungry? Did you eat?”

Brandon shook his head, taking a seat at the table “I’ll be ok...”

Giving their new singer an appraising look, Eric said, “I’ll take that as a no, you didn’t eat, and a yes, you are hungry. Me too; pizza sound good?”

They all nodded, even Brandon, who was reluctantly remembering just how much delivered pizza cost. He guessed it would be about five bucks each, but his growling stomach forced him to agree.

Picking up the phone, Jon paused before dialing to ask, “Okay, who wants what?”

“Same as usual, I guess,” Chase replied while Eric just nodded in agreement.

Jon turned to Brandon, “What about you?”

“Whatever’s on it is fine by me.”

Chase and Eric shared a puzzled look, and Jon suddenly understood, “Uh, no, dude, we aren’t ordering one pizza. We usually get a small one each because we all like different stuff, and Chase usually gets hot wings too.”

Becoming uncomfortable for a second, Brandon replied, “Just an order of wings for me, thanks.”

Jon gave him a puzzled look, and Eric, who was behind Brandon, figured it out first, holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together to indicate ‘money’.

Jon caught the signal and smiled. “I know we haven’t talked about money yet, but we will in a few minutes. So, don’t worry about it, this is on us, so eat.”

Smiling with relief, patting his growling stomach, Brandon nodded. “Thanks… I guess I’ll have a small pepperoni, if that’s okay.”

“Cool, ok, we can raid the mini-bar for soft drinks, so that’s it…” Jon phoned in the order, adding two orders of hot wings to the four pizzas, and hung up.

Getting right to the point, Jon said, “Brandon, some stuff happened while you were asleep that we need to talk about. Something you said caused Helen to do some thinking, and, well, it was your room. You said you were paying for it yourself, and that got Helen going because all the crew’s rooms are paid for by us.”

Brandon puzzled over that and said, “But I’ve always had to pay my own room.”

Crossing his arms, Eric scowled, “Yeah, and Helen found a few other guys on the crew who were, too. She thinks someone is skimming, ripping off both us and the crew. She’s investigating right now, and should be back real soon.”

As if on cue, the door burst open and Helen stormed in. She stared at Brandon, who suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable being shirtless, in spite of the fact the other three guys were too. Helen aimed a finger in his direction, “What are you doing here? You should be asleep! Nobody woke you up did they?” All four guys shook their heads, and Helen continued, “Okay, good. Did they fill you in on our problem?” Brandon nodded, and before he could utter a word Helen added, “I’ve got news, and it ain’t good news. I talked to more of the crew and found out this is widespread; its been going on at least a year. A few of the old hands remember getting their rooms paid, but nothing recent. The books, however, show that Instinct has been paying for rooms all this time, and guess what, Brandon? Your old buddy Gabe is in charge of assigning rooms. I need to get into the accountant’s books for more – like to see exactly where the money is going, but it’s Saturday and I can’t until Monday. So for now, I suggest we keep this between us, so nothing disappears, but we’ll need to bring in the police on this; it’s illegal as hell.”

The three brothers nodded agreements, and turned with questioning looks to Brandon, who had remained non-committal. Brandon realized they were waiting for his input, and nodded, amazed and pleased that they were including him in the decision-making.

Moving her agenda along, Helen asked, “That’s about all we can do on that issue right now. So, how far did you get with Brandon on the financial stuff?”

Jon answered with a shrug, “We had to twist his arm to let us spring for pizza. That’s as far as we got, but I think he’s hurting for money in a big way if the price of pizza worries him.”

Brandon blushed a little, nodding at Helen, painfully well aware that everyone in the room was light years apart from him in financial terms.

Literally stamping her foot, Helen snapped, “Let’s put that issue to rest right now. I just took a look at your employee information while I was checking the rest of the records. Seems you’ve been paid minimum wage, though with no accommodations or meal stipend. That’s well under what you should have received, and I can see why you’re stuck in a fifteen-dollar-a-night room. I also notice that your checks clear through a check-cashing office near here, so I’m assuming that you don’t have a bank account. So, how much money do you have right now?”

He had no need to check his wallet; he was used to keeping track of every dollar. “Just what’s in my wallet – sixty seven dollars – and sixty of that is for my room so that’s it until I get paid Friday.”

The brothers shared a shocked look as Chase asked, “Whoa, no wonder you were worried about the pizza. What were you going to do for food for the rest of the week?”

Brandon shrugged. “Buy some bread, maybe, or just skip it. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

In a voice far softer than her usual manner, Helen declared, “Well, hon, it’s not happening again.”

“I can’t just freeload on these guys, though I sure appreciate the pizza that’s coming,”

Jon snorted, “You aren’t freeloading. We made you an equal member; we make some damn good money, and a fourth of that income is yours now.”

Brandon stared at him confused, not quite believing what he was hearing, because it literally didn’t add up. “Thanks, but I don’t see how that can work until the concert; as I understand it, the main active income of a group when it’s not touring is album sales, and your previous albums were with Lump, so isn’t that one-fourth still his?”

Jon began to argue, but Helen cut him off, “Jon, can it, Brandon has it right on that. I don’t like it any more than you do, but Lump does have legal rights to that twenty-five percent of album income. That income is all the income you guys have right now, until the next concert tour starting in Phoenix. Several are already sold out, so there will be a lot of money coming in even before the next album launch, and Lump won’t have any claim on any of that, but that doesn’t solve Brandon’s short-term problems.”

Brandon shrugged, “I could just keep the roadie job, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t get in the way...”

Helen cut him off first, “Brandon, sweetie, shut the fuck up. You’re an important part of this group now, and I for one am not going to tolerate you working two full-time jobs, because it will adversely affect both you and the group; the four of you have to concentrate on the new album and the concert tour, and anything getting in the way will hurt you all. I also do not want you going back to that room you are in, because at fifteen bucks it sounds like it’s a real dive, am I right?”

Brandon nodded “It’s not the greatest. It’s a real rough place, and just a room with a bathroom down the hall, but it’s all I can swing… ”

Helen cut him off yet again, “Could, past tense. I do not want you going back there, period. There are a lot of reasons, not just comfort or convenience. First is security; a place like that is dangerous, but can you imagine what it will be like in a few days when it becomes public knowledge that you are the new front man for Instinct? Can you even imagine the risks? No, you can’t stay there; you need someplace that’s at least safe.”

“I’ll call our hotel and see if we can get him a room next to ours,” Chase offered.

Brandon was about to object, when Helen cut him off ­–Brandon was learning fast that Helen cut everybody off when she had something to say­– “Don’t bother. I checked already; they don’t have any suites available through the end of next week. They have a regular room a few floors down and I put that on hold. I want him in that hotel for his own safety as well as convenience, and I sure as hell do not want him walking the streets alone at four o’clock in the morning anymore!”

His conscience forcing him to give it one last try, Brandon said, “I don’t know... Hell, without my roadie check, I can’t afford the flop house for more than a few more days.”

“Brandon, again, shut up!” Helen smiled, “You’re staying in a decent place, end of discussion.”

Slapping himself on the forehead for overlooking the obvious, Jon chimed in, “Hey, my suite has two bedrooms, so Brandon, why don’t you just stay in the room you just slept in? It’s gotta be better than where you are, and more convenient too.”

Brandon was amazed, remembering the very luxurious room in the lavish suite. Better than where he was at? He thought of the noise and the stench of his room at the flop house, and the utterly filthy communal bathroom. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he thought, ‘better is an understatement.’ Subduing both his pride and his conscience, he asked, “Are you sure I won’t be in the way?”

Jon grinned, “To quote Helen: Brandon, shut up! Even if you weren’t a member, we all like hanging out with you, so of course you won’t be in the way. Besides, Helen’s right, your safety is a concern of all of us now, and not just out of friendship. If it makes you feel any better, look at this from our point of view; our old singer is history, and we’ve got a new album due, plus a concert tour. We’re royally fucked on both counts if you aren’t in the picture.”

Helen stamped her foot. “Well, that’s settled. So, now that accommodations aren’t a problem, what about the rest of it?”

Grinning with relief as he accepted Jon’s reasoning, Brandon answered Helen, “Now that I don’t have to pay for a room, I can make my next check go a long way, so I’ll be fine.”

Helen shook her head; “Brandon, I looked, and your next check would be about a two hundred and eighty bucks, and that was with you working several more days as a tech, which you won’t be doing. So that leaves about a hundred; you can’t live on that.”

With a self-assured smile, Brandon replied, “I can, it’s no problem without the room rent, especially if I can bum some meals with these guys. I don’t know about new expenses though, or clothes for the concert because I don’t have anything decent enough for that.”

“Brandon, first off, you need to eat, though I expect you’ll do a lot of that with these three chow hounds. Secondly, the money from the Phoenix concert won’t be distributed until several days after, so you are looking at a minimum of at least three weeks. Thirdly, you will have an image to maintain. On the business side, you’ll need some good clothes for some publicity work, starting in a few days, not just for the concert. A hundred bucks sure won’t cut it, nor should you even try.”

Feeling certain that Helen wouldn’t budge, nor would the guys, Brandon acquiesced, “Maybe I could get a kind of advance, or a loan, for the clothes and whatever other expenses to get me by? I can eat cheap; I’m used to it and know how, so the hundred and sixty will be plenty for everything else.”

Choosing his words with care, Eric countered, “Nope. You can eat with us and we eat well. You can also just order whatever you want from room service and the food here is great. Hell, we were going to pay you for playing with us before we decided to invite you to join, so we owe you some anyway, and the group owes you and the other crew who were ripped off some reimbursement, and I sure don’t mind kicking in.”

Both Jon and Chase nodded in agreement, so Helen added, “That makes this easy then...”

A sudden knock at the door made Helen pause while Jon opened it with a happy declaration of “Pizza’s here.” Jon handed the delivery guy a hundred dollar bill, causing Brandon’ eyes to bulge a bit, as a delighted delivery guy realized he’d just been given a fifty dollar tip. Plonking the boxes and bags down on the living room table, Jon handed Chase his order of hot wings before flipping open the pizza boxes, and they all dug in eagerly, Helen helping herself to some of each.