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“Everybody there?” our manager asks.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’ve got some news.” Something in his tone pulls everybody’s attention toward him, and I straighten as the room quiets. He looks around at all of us for a second before he says, “Macklin Row’s North American tour is moving forward. Their team wants Hollow North on the first leg.”
For maybe half a beat, nobody reacts. It’s like we all need the same second to make sure we heard him right. Then the room erupts, voices crashing over each other as chairs scrape against the floor. I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved.
“What?”
“Are you serious?”
“When?”
Everybody talks at once, and I’m laughing because I can’t help it.
This is it.
Europe wasn’t a fluke. We didn’t spend six months opening for Macklin Row only to come home and disappear off their radar. They want us back.
An actual offer.
Our manager keeps talking over the noise. “They’re starting with the U.S. and Canada. Several months. There’s an option to extend if the numbers are good and Macklin Row adds the second leg.”
Somebody swears loudly behind me.
I’m already thinking about venues, set lists, how much stronger we are now than when we left for Europe. The new album will be out. We’ll have fresh material. Bigger crowds already know who we are.
This is exactly what we’ve been working toward.
“What are the dates?” I ask, already reaching for my phone as he starts listing them. I pull up the calendar and follow along, marking the first show, then the last. It starts sooner than I expected and runs for months, with enough gaps labeled as possible additions that the whole thing could stretch even longer.
My adrenaline doesn’t fade. If anything, it kicks harder. I want this, and that certainty comes fast. But I keep looking at the dates after he’s finished, letting the length of them settle in.
Yesterday Ruby was naked in a river with me, laughing while I tried to convince her the water wasn’t freezing. Last night she fell asleep in my arms.
Now I’m looking at months of hotel rooms, buses, airports, and waking up nowhere near her.
The guys are already talking over one another about venues and what this could mean for the album, and I’m right there with them because this is what I’ve wanted for years. Still, beneath all the excitement, there’s one thing I can’t ignore.
Leaving Ruby for this long is going to be hard.
Chapter twenty-three
RUBY
Zander knocks on my door a little after seven with a look on his face that tells me something happened before he says a word.
He’s trying to play it cool. He’s failing.
I step back to let him in. “What’s going on?”
His smile breaks wider. “We got the tour.”
For a second, I just stare at him. “The Macklin Row tour?”
“North America. First leg. United States and Canada.” He follows me inside, already talking faster. “It starts soon. A few months, maybe longer if they add dates. Their band wants us for the whole first run.”
“Oh, my God.”
