Chapter 1
Hagerstown, Maryland
“Hey! Naughty girl!”
Sue Douglas stooped forward as a pair of hands landed—with the full weight of the person behind them—on her shoulders. Righting her posture, she automatically held up a black sticker emblazoned with “#naughty” in bold white text, along with a postcard advertising the radio station’s next free show.
“Thanks, love.” The interloper took the items and pushed off her shoulders to launch himself back into the swarm of concertgoers enjoying the balmy spring night.
“Can I have one too, please?” A petite girl with an apologetic expression stood before her.
Sue smiled and held out a different sticker in each hand. “Naughty or nice?”
“Naughty.” The girl giggled and blushed.
Sue gave her the sticker and matching postcard. For every hyped fan who jumped on her, at least two shy people mumbled requests. She wanted them all. Even more, she wanted them to bring their friends to the next concert her station hosted. The only thing that kept management from flipping the switch and turning the small rock station into another pre-packaged “lite music” destination was advertising. Big attendance numbers at these events kept advertisers happy. That gave Sue the leverage she needed to get more budget to do better events. It boosted her reputation in the industry and kept at least fifty people employed.
The drum beat from the stage guided her as she zigzagged through the crowd, giving out stickers on her way to the afternoon drive time DJ. On her cue he would transition the free show in the nightclub’s back parking lot to the ticketed concert inside. Sue gave away her last sticker and put an intern in charge of the postcards before she pushed through the final crush of music lovers.
“Axel!” She waved. “Hey, Axel!”
The scruffy blond DJ turned and beckoned her. “Sue! You got any more T-shirts? The black ones. I wanna hook these girls up.”
“Yeah, I’ve got some in the van. Gimme a minute.” She nodded toward the women. “Listen, Ax, when these guys are done—”
“I know.” Axel flashed his palm with naughty scrawled across it in pink ink. “Text ‘naughty’ for Pink Slip and ‘nice’ for Derelicts.”
“Exactly. Perfect.” She blew out a breath and pushed her hair off her face. “Don’t mix it up.”
“You already pounded it into my head, woman!” Axel grinned and threw an arm around her neck, giving Sue a half-hug. “This is a cool thing you created. It’s only May and we’re already selling tickets for the Halloween show and the Christmas concert.”
“It’s what I do.” Sue turned her attention to the people waiting and almost laughed. The “girls” were the wives of two prominent baseball players from the Washington Nationals. She smiled at them. “Come on, I’ll get you shirts.”
The women followed her through the groups of people piled around the temporary stage. While Sue climbed into the van to find the stash of black shirts, Axel addressed the concertgoers.
“Let’s hear it for Derelicts!”
The crowd roared, having multiplied since the first band got on stage about an hour before. Now a sea of bodies filled the parking lot. She took a beat to appreciate how many people she’d drawn out.
“If you like these guys,” Axel shouted, “make sure you text in your vote! Tonight’s winner plays against two other bands at our Bag of Bones Halloween party. That winner opens our big Naughty or Nice Christmas show with The Presidents of the United States of America!” When the fans settled into a steady hum of energy, he spoke again. “If you wanna see Pink Slip, what’re you gonna text?”
“Naughty!” the crowd thundered.
“If you want to see Derelicts?”
“Nice!”
“You got it! Text us now! Voting closes when the main event starts.”
Axel reminded the crowd where to line up for the indoor show before getting them into one more chant of “naughty” and “nice,” then he left the stage.
No sooner had Sue given the women T-shirts, than Axel showed up with a crowd of guys.
“Hey, Sue.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “These guys say they’re the opening act, but security won’t let them in without tickets. Too many people in line already!”
Sue shoved the stickers she held in her back pocket, then looked past Axel. A familiar mop of hair—so black it was almost blue—ruffled in the breeze.
“Oh my God, Tom!” She jumped into the lanky man’s arms, giddy with laughter. “I figured I wouldn’t see you until this was over!”
“Wow!” Axel pulled his chin back. “I don’t get treatment like that, and I approve your expense reports.”
Sue laughed again, an arm still around Tom. “This is my cousin. We grew up on the same street.”
Tom tousled Sue’s hair. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. Axel says this melee is your fault.”
Sue surveyed the crowd again. “With anyone else I’d be humble, but hell yeah, this is my fault!”
“We left to eat and came back to all this. Now we can’t get in.”
“I’ll get you in under the stage.” Sue grabbed a flashlight from the van and pulled the door shut. “Follow me!”
She directed the guys along the perimeter of the lot. When they got to the rear corner of the stage, she slid aside a piece of black-painted plywood and flicked on the torch. She dipped her head under the framework of the stage and shone the light toward a door just past the opposite side. “We’re going this way.” Partly crouched to avoid bumping her head, she led the group through the maze of stage supports.
“What are we doing?” a voice called from somewhere behind her.
“I don’t know,” someone else answered. “Follow the chick in the tight pants.”
“Sweet,” said a third voice.
“Hey!” Even though Tom only spoke one word, Sue recognized the tone in his voice.
Sue interrupted before her cousin could threaten his friends. “That’s not how you vote! It’s either naughty—”
“Or nice!” a few of the guys chimed in.
Sue chuckled and opened the stage door, where she greeted security. “Hey, Jabba, I’ve got Words Fail Me. They won’t let them in the front door.”
The security guard let out a throaty chortle. “Don’t blame ’em. Rockers are the worst kind of riffraff. Come on.”
They filed in, two tall guys with long hair—one dark blond, the other with a silky black mane—a stocky Asian guy with punk-rock spikes, and finally one with a ruddy complexion and the wardrobe and gait of a skater, each flashing their passes as they went.
Skater guy talked to her chest as he crossed the threshold. “Tits and ass really do open doors.”
Sue put a concert flyer in his face. “Keep moving, bud.”
“Shut the fuck up, Chris.” Tom pushed the guy into the club.
Sue smirked at Tom. “Thanks, but I can handle myself.”
“You shut up, too.”
Sue lifted her eyebrows and he blushed.
“Okay.” Tom held out a flyer. “This contest is cool.”
“Thanks!” She beamed. “This is the first year we’re doing a Christmas concert. It’s the same weekend as the big Baltimore station’s, so we needed a hook.”
“Your hook is a contest that involves six bands and four shows?”
Sue calculated it in her head. “Yeah.”
“And this is the first show.”
“Yes.”
“There’s a couple hundred people crammed into that parking lot.”
“The venue holds a thousand,” Sue said. “I was shooting for at least half.”
Tom squinted at her. “You should work for us. We need a good promotions manager.”
“Sure, Tom.” Sue shook her head. “I’ve gotta count the votes. We have to announce the winner before the show inside is over.”
“What are you doing after?”
“I have to clean up all this.” She gestured to the outdoor stage. After the bargaining and cajoling she’d had to do to get management to approve this contest, the last thing she needed was the venue complaining.
“After that.”
“Hanging with you and passing out for about fourteen hours.”
“Meet me at the station after-party. You have a pass.”
“I never go to that stuff. I have to clean up and pack the van.”
Tom held up a hand. “You have interns for that. After-party.”
“This is my event. I’m responsible for—”
“Your interns are trained to within an inch of their lives. Put aside your control-freak tendencies for one night and come to the damn party.”
“You’re calling me a control freak? Really?”
Tom crossed his arms. “I’m tour manager. That’s the job.”
“Easy excuse.”
“Come on, Sue. After-party.”
Sue mentally reviewed the long list of things that needed to be done before she could party, and wrinkled her nose. It might be dicey. Still, she hadn’t seen Tom in ages, and she knew Axel would help her do a final check. “Okay.”
Before Tom could celebrate, she pulled her vibrating phone from her back pocket, read the screen, and laughed. “I have to go. Axel’s trying to count the votes without me, and he thinks he broke the program.”
Tom winced. “That’s not good.”
“He can’t break the program. The votes come to my phone. And my email. And the texting company. I got backups for my backups. We’re in good shape, Tommy.”
Sue ducked to go back under the stage when Tom called out, “Station after-party. Be there!”
