“Yes. Already warmed up and ready. They were waiting until you were done with your autograph session to go over tonight’s set list with you.”
“Good,” I say. “I hate when they’re late and we have to go round them up.”
“I’ve spoken with them about their tardiness and explained just because they were the best the studio could find for the job doesn’t mean they aren’t replaceable. Everyone is replaceable.”
Even me is what I’m dying to say, but know that she’d just laugh and yet deny it. Jane Ann is a label talent scout but has put that position on hold to be my tour manager since this is my first major tour and I have issues with trusting random strangers. Jane Ann also gets a percentage of all my money like an agent would. Last year alone Wicked White grossed over six million dollars from the tour, not counting any of the money made on music downloads and miscellaneous shit that got sold with the band name on it.
Wicked White is not a real band, but a product.
The cell in my back pocket buzzes with the alert of an incoming call, so I grab it and check the screen.
The name that flashes isn’t one that I’ve seen in a long time, but it’s always nice to hear from the one person that I actually care about.
I pull away from Jane Ann. “Excuse me. I have to take this.”
After I take a couple steps, I press the green button. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“Ace Johnson?” The deep voice on the other end is one that I don’t recognize. It puzzles me how this strange man knows my real name, and why is he calling from my foster mother’s home number?
“Yes. Do I know you?”
“No. I’m afraid not. I’m Officer Butler with the Franklin County Sheriff’s Department, and I’m afraid that I have some upsetting news. Ms. Sarah Johnson was found in her home unresponsive moments ago. She’s been transferred to Grant Medical Center in critical condition. As you’re listed as her son in her address book, we thought you would like to be notified.” His tone is very businesslike as he rattles off the specifics on where the hospital is located, but I’m barely registering what he’s saying.
I swallow hard as I’m faced with the hard reality that the one person in the world that gives a shit about me may not make it. I need to be with her. I have to get there. Now. “Thank you, Officer. I’m on my way.”
When I end the call, I stuff my phone into my back pocket and turn to find Jane Ann staring at me with narrowed eyes. “Where exactly are you on your way to?”
I square my shoulders. I know she’s not going to like what I have to say, but it doesn’t matter. Not Jane Ann, or anyone else for that matter, is going to stand in my way of getting to Mom. “My mother is sick. She needs me.”
I turn in the opposite direction of the stage, but Jane Ann is quick to follow on my heels. “You can’t leave now!”
“Watch me,” I say.
“Ace, wait!” Jane Ann grabs my arm and jumps in front of me to halt me from going any farther. “Let’s think reasonably. You’re on tour. There are fifteen thousand people out in that crowd tonight that have paid their hard-earned money to see you. Just go out and do the show, then we’ll talk about you driving to Ohio tonight. You can’t make the fans suffer. It will kill your career if you stand them up.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. A huge part of me wants to tell her to fuck off and just go, but there’s a part that hates the idea of losing my career. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I’m at, so I’m torn.
After a few moments of debate, I sigh, deciding that I can just jet after our set. “Fine. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Jane Ann smiles, her white teeth sparkling, when she’s figured out that she’s gotten her way. “You’re making the right decision, Ace.”
Anger boils within me that I’m stuck here, unable to leave like I want for fear of what I’d lose.
Jane Ann hooks her arm through mine and leads me toward the stage again. Once we make it to where the rest of the guys in my band are standing around waiting to take the stage, they all