he could swear this was the same place they’d used in this same city on the last tour—the one he’d instructed Gordy to never book again. His longtime manager was a great, capable guy, so Zen imagined there was a story behind the forbidden booking.
After juggling the two large shoulder bags that held his most precious accessories and electronics as he made it across the threshold, he was assaulted with the smell of moldy chemicals. He wasn’t sure how those two aromas had managed to become mixed together into one nauseating solution, but he was now stuck with stank.
Zen reluctantly dropped his designer bags on the dinette table of the tiniest suite he’d ever seen. The potential germs growing in the old carpet concerned him, but he wasn’t sure about the duvet on the King bed either. He stripped the covering away and tossed the offending item in the corner. Zen sighed, reasoning that he only had to make it through two nights in this dump, then they’d be on their way to the next stop.
A knock sounded at the door and he called out, “Who is it?”
“It’s Gordy. I’m guessing you want an explanation.”
Zen chuckled as he made his way to the door. Yeah, they’d been together a long fucking time. Gordy could read Zen like no other.
As soon as Zen opened the door, he was met with Gordy’s apologetic features. Zen gestured for Gordy to come inside, chuckling some more at his expression.
“Jesus, Zen. What’s that smell? It reeks in here!”
Zen sighed. “You tell me, man.”
Gordy raked his fingers through his scruffy, salt and pepper hair. “Let me see if they have another suite. This is rancid.”
Zen crossed his arms. “Don’t worry about it. I have some oils I can put in my diffuser.”
He’d learned the hard way that being on the road could be a very pungent experience.
“As long as you’re sure.” Gordy still radiated shame.
“I doubt there’s anything much better. Anyway, what’s the deal with this place? Did you forget this one is in the no-booking zone?”
“I hate to keep throwing Sal under the bus…”
Zen scrubbed his face with one hand. He should’ve known. “His reputation precedes him, I see.”
“Look, I would’ve come to you with options, but there weren’t any. I didn’t find out until a week ago that the hotel I’d originally booked cancelled. This was the only place I could get at such short notice.”
“A warning, bro. A warning would’ve been nice.”
“Not gonna lie. It literally slipped my mind.” Gordy held up his palms. “I’m not complaining okay, you know me better than that. But I’ve been keeping an eagle eye on Sal. The Rocktoberfest promoters are starting to get itchy about the band, want to make sure we’re actually gonna show up.”
Zen frowned. “Because of Sal? They had to fucking know when they booked us that he was still in the band. Same with the hotel. There must be something else going on.
Gordy averted his eyes, glancing around the room as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah…turns out there is.” He sighed and locked gazes with Zen. “Sal gave an interview to Rolling Stone, said some pretty nasty shit about the band. I had to talk Derek off the ledge this morning. He was having a fit in the parking lot when we arrived because his old lady texted him the link to the story. He threatened not to go on stage with Sal anymore.”
“Fuck me.” Zen crossed his arms in aggravation. That’s what he got for telling the driver to let him sleep in for an hour after everyone arrived. He’d been running on fumes lately. “Okay, let’s think this through. Were you able to calm Derek down?”
“I think so. Listen, you know how loyal the guys are to you, how much the band means to them. Derek wouldn’t ruin it for everyone else. He just needed to get that off his chest.”
“And everyone else?”
“They’re pissed, but they were telling Derek the same thing as me. You know, ignore the asshole, focus on the music and the fans.”
Zen nodded. “Good.”
However, he knew this was all just a band-aid, and one without much glue. While he’d known for a while that firing Sal would be inevitable, they had to get through this tour first, had to make sure the band’s overall reputation wasn’t destroyed by them missing shows or cancelling gigs.
“So, what’s next, Boss?”
Zen drew his eyebrows together. When he’d woken up in the bus and readied himself to check