I grimace. “We had an argument. You’re sure Amy doesn’t work here, in any capacity?”
“I’d know if she did.”
Fish nudges my arm. “We gotta go, or we’ll be late for the taping.”
“Taping?” Margaret asks.
“We’re contractually obligated to appear in the finale of Sing Your Heart Out,” Fish explains.
“Fun,” Margaret says. “Colin, when you see Amy, tell her if her dream job doesn’t pan out, I’ll snap her up in a heartbeat.”
“I’ll tell her, if I ever find her.”
Fish and I say goodbye to Margaret and begin jogging back to Fish’s car in the parking lot.
“Where the hell is Amy working?” I grumble as we reach Fish’s car. “What could her ‘dream job’ possibly be, if not working on a big-budget Hollywood movie in Hawaii for three months?”
Fish unlocks his car and we both slip inside.
“And why didn’t Amy tell me about her new job?” I demand, feeling deflated. “Where has she been staying? Why is she ghosting me? Fish, I’m losing it.”
Fish looks sympathetic but says nothing. When he starts his car, I sigh, pull out my phone, and call Reed Rivers’ righthand man—a guy named Owen who always knows what’s what at River Records.
“Hi, Colin.”
“Hey, O,” I reply. “I’m short on time. Remember Amy O’Brien—my buddy’s sister who got assigned to Caleb during the RCR tour?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know if she recently signed on for another tour?”
“I’d have to check.”
“Could you do that now?”
“Hang on.” A few minutes later Owen returns. “Her name isn’t listed on any current or upcoming crew roster.”
“Fuck.” I pause. “Can you give me the number for that Nate guy who works sound?”
“Hang on.” There’s a short pause, and then, “I just texted you Nate’s contact info.”
“Got it. Thanks, O. You’re the best.”
I hang up with Owen and send a text to Nate:
Me: Hey, Nate. This is Colin Beretta. I have an important question. Here’s a selfie to prove it’s me.
I snap a selfie and send it. I don’t have time for Nate to wonder if someone is pranking him, and I’ve learned from past experience a selfie is the quickest route to side-stepping that entire conversation. Luckily, Nate replies instantly:
Nate: Hey, Colin! Great to hear from you! What’s up?
Me: Remember Amy O’Brien, C-Bomb’s PA during RCR’s tour?
Nate: Yeah.
Me: Who from the tour would have invited her to crash at their place in LA?
Nate: Lots of people. Everyone loved Amy.
Me: Top pick?
Nate: Maybe our tour manager, Melanie? She was especially fond of Amy.
Me: What’s Melanie’s number?
Nate texts me the number and I immediately call it. But the woman doesn’t answer, so I leave a voicemail, just as Fish is parking his car in the VIP parking area for Sing Your Heart Out. Before I exit Fish’s car, however, I tap out another text to Nate. Something I wish I could say to the fucker in person—preferably, while pressing my forearm into his bobbing Adam’s apple. But such is life. It’s filled with disappointments.
Me: BTW, I heard you called Amy “a six, at best” during the RCR tour. Just so you know, she’s my girlfriend now. And that woman is a stone-cold, perfect TEN, motherfucker.
Thirty-One
Colin
“Five minutes!” the production manager of Sing Your Heart Out calls out. And all of us in the greenroom, a group that includes Fish, me, and a British popstar named Phoebe, acknowledge her announcement.
The fourth “guest mentor” of this season’s singing competition, Kendrick Cook, isn’t here in this greenroom with us because he’s currently onstage playing drums behind Savage and Laila’s duet. But the minute I get the chance, I’m going to ask Kendrick if he knows Amy’s whereabouts—and God help me, if it turns out she went straight from my bed to his, I’ll never forgive myself.
My phone in my pocket rings with an incoming call from Melanie—the tour manager I called earlier—and I gasp and quickly answer.
“Melanie! Thanks for calling me back.”
“You said it was urgent.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m calling about Amy O’Brien—C-Bomb’s PA on his last tour?”
“She’s a cutie.”
“I thought maybe she’s been staying at your place the last several days?”
“No, I’m on Watch Party’s tour now. I haven’t talked to Amy since the RCR tour ended. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. I need to talk to her about something personal. Who do you think from the RCR tour might have offered Amy a place to crash in LA this past week?”
“Hmm. Could be anyone. Everyone loves Amy.”
“I know the feeling,” I mutter, just as the production manager for Sing Your Heart Out appears and says it’s time for our group to follow her.
“I gotta go,” I say to Melanie on the phone. “Do me a favor and send me the crew sheet from the RCR tour.”
“I don’t have it handy, but I can get it.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
We say goodbye and hang up, and I follow the group out of the greenroom. As we walk, I get Fish up to speed, concluding with, “As soon as Melanie sends me that crew list, I’m gonna call every name on it, until I find Amy.”
“That could be a lot of calls,” Fish says. “I’ll help you.”
“Thanks, Fish Head. That’s why I love you the most.”
We reach our destination—the left wing of the stage—and wait for our cue to walk onstage and celebrate this season’s winner. For now, however, the host of the singing competition is onstage, drawing out the suspense.
As the host does her thing, I notice Kendrick Cook standing in the opposite wing and feel sick to my stomach at the sight of him. He’s a fit, handsome dude with a beaming smile and a heart of gold. How could I have been so stupid not to lock Amy down the other night, and risk pushing her straight into the arms of someone like Kendrick Cook?
“Addison Swain!” the host of the singing show bellows onstage and the studio audience loses their shit at the “big reveal” of the winner’s name. Streamers sprout from the ceiling as music begins blaring, and a moment later, Laila Fitzgerald barrels onstage to congratulate the young winner. Finally, a production assistant cues the three of us—Fish, the British popstar, and me—and we head onstage to join the celebration, exactly as we’re contractually required to do.
In the midst of the dance party, I spot Kendrick whooping it up with Savage across the expansive soundstage, so I grab Fish’s arm and pull him over there for moral support.
When we reach Savage and Kendrick, we all high-five each other for the cameras, and then make a show of having a great ol’ time as the blaring music continues, until the director yells, “We’re clear!”