I let out an extremely agitated sigh. Our makeup artist, Misty, decided that bailing on us right before the first leg of our tour started up, to go have a baby or something, would be a good idea.
It was day two of unsuccessful searching and I was beginning to panic. The tour started in six days.
"Andy, I just got off the phone with Max Green! He said that for their last gig they hired a chick last minute to do their makeup."
"Your point?" I replied shortly.
"She's good and she has no current clients,” Jack enthused. “I bet your charm can get her to replace Misty,” he said looking at me from under his lashes like a girl. He stopped when I shot him a look. “At least for the first leg of the tour," he relented.
I rolled my eyes at his antics and heaved myself off the black leather couch. I started in on him, "Does she have an office? A number? A way to get in contact? You’ve got to give me more than that."
Jake huffed, his wittle feelings hurt. "Yeah she has an assistant.. thing.. that books her clients for her! Max gave me the assistant ..thing’s number!"
"Assistant thing?” I repeated frowning at him. “And since I'm not psychic don't you think giving me her agent’s number might be the least bit helpful?"
"Its five-five-five f*** off! I know you are under a lot of stress, but you don’t have to be a d***head because of it." Jake said throwing a numbered scrap of paper at me.
I felt the teensiest bit bad, but he was right I was under an immense amount of stress. Tours always did this to me until the first show. I pulled out my new iPhone Four and typed in the ten digits scrawled on the crumpled paper. My first instinct was to hang up when I heard an annoyingly, upbeat, pop song playing instead of the normal dial tone, but I was desperate. So I sucked it up, waiting for the mystery person's agent to pick up. I got an overly, peppy prerecorded message. I decided against my usual habits and left a voicemail briefly explaining the situation. When I was finished I slid my phone back into my pocket and went to find Jake.
He and the rest of the band were all huddled around two extra-large five topping pizza. Without even using plates, they were digging in. I rolled my eyes and dug out the paper plates, sat them on the table, and exaggerated the motions of picking up a plate and adding slices to it hoping they would catch on.
They seemed to get the hint while I turned around and rummaged in the fridge for Ranch Dressing. I walked over and pushed Ashley out of my normal seat without a word. I poured Ranch over my two pieces of pizza and sort of made a sandwich out of them.
"So, how did it go?"
"She didn't answer. I left a voicemail," I said in between bites barely paying attention to Jinxx.
"Did you leave your number?"
"No, I told her to call AT&T and see if they could give it to her," I said sarcastically and sopped up the little puddle of dressing that dripped of my pizza sandwich.
"Ha-ha douche bag, your pizza eating habits are so weird," Jinxx observed shaking his head.
"Don't knock it 'till you try it, Jinxxie."
Jinxx snatched the remnants of my pizza and took a more-than-generous bite before graciously spitting it out on my plate. "I tried it, now can I knock it?" he asked flashing me a s***-eating grin.
I debated on whether to flip him off or knock the cocky grin off the f****** face. I opted for scenario nummer zwie. Knocking my chair backwards in the process, I jumped up and tackled Jinxx to the ground. I straddled him before commencing to land a series of punches to his head/chest area.
"Get off me, you ***hat!" A more than shocked Jinxx commanded and shoved against my chest.
"Children, children, behave," Daddy CC said, but not until I decided I was done beating the cockiness out of Jinxx. Nothing wrong with a little friendly fighting between band mates.
"Dude, what the f***?"
"You spit my pizza on my plate," I said adding extra stress on the word 'my'.
He flashed me a sheepish grin and I helped him up from his place on the floor. He looked at me warily once he was on his feet, but instead of hitting him again I just turned to grab my cigarettes off the counter and excused myself outside. While taking my first drag, from my perch on a milk crate, a Motley Crue song blared from my pocket. I whipped out my iPhone, slid the unlock arrow, and tapped the green answer button.
"Sixx?" I answered.
"Hello, this is Gina, you left a message wanting to hire Holly," she said. Her tone turned her statement into a question. I could tell she seemed doubtful about the gig for her client. Her voice was way less peppy, almost like she hadn't had her espresso yet.
I took a long drag from my cigarette and blew out a ring of smoke through my nose before starting. "Holly, eh?" I mused to myself. "Yeah, our usual makeup artist had to go have a kid or something and we are starting the first leg of our Set the World on Fire Tour in about a week. So we would greatly appreciate it if we could hire Holly for at least the first leg."
"Just let me check her book.." she said slightly away from the receiver, sounding distracted. I assumed she was just bulls****** to make Holly seem more important. "She's free, so I'm sure she will do it, but before I call her let’s talk accommodations."
I rolled my eyes, her behavior irritated the f*** out of me, flicking my ashes against the porch. "Do elaborate."
"Well, where is she going to sleep? And will she need to pay for her own meals and such or will it be covered?"
"She will get a bunk like the rest of us, or her own hotel room depending on the situation and yeah, yeah, whatever we'll cover it."
"Okay, I'll call her as soon as we hang up, but I'm sure she will help you all out. She's got a big heart," Gina stage-whispered.
I snuffed out my cigarette on the bottom of my black boot before saying, "Awesome, one of you call me to confirm as soon as you figure it out. Tour starts in six days."
"Six days? Umm, okay, that's not a very long time for her to get ready," she said chewing it over.
"I know right, Misty screwed us over."
"Sounds like it, well I better call Holly. One of us will call you in the next few hours to let you know."
"Bye," I said hitting the red hang-up button and slipped my phone into my pocket. I opted for another cigarette before heading back inside. I needed to calm my nerves. I was way too confrontational for my own good. Didn’t want the band p***** at me before the tour even started. There would be plenty of time for that later, when I brought back random lays or puked all over their things.
"What took you so long?" CC asked. He was sitting Indian-style on the floor eating my Oreos. I’m not gonna lie. It made my blood boil, more than just a little.
"Well I was having a lengthy conversation with Gina,” I said putting a false peppy spin on ‘Gina’, “and we pretty much have a makeup artist."
"Gina? I thought her name was Holly," Jake said spooning some alcohol drenched ice cream into his big mouth.
"Holly equals makeup artist, Gina equals incredibly annoying assistant," I spelled it out while swiping a bite of my ice cream with a heavy dose of vodka soaked into it.
Jake flipped me off before nodding in understanding and going back to his tasty concoction. They always seemed to pick my house to eat my food and use up all of my stuff.