Nobody Falls for the Opening Act (Break the Rules Book 2)

Chapter 33

I’ve never been to a music festival, but I’ve certainly heard all about the Bass and Bliss Music Festival.

The nation’s top performers from every genre imaginable all on the same stage for three straight days? Sign me the fuck up. In the crowd or on the stage. Either would be an experience I’d never forget.

Especially with Dade Connery being here… watching… listening… and choosing new bands to collaborate with.

I’ve already made peace with not getting up on that stage. But I’ll still be in the same physical location as him! That’s enough to make this among the most exciting days of my life.

Since I haven’t heard a word from Jordan about it since we arrived in New Mexico, I assume that getting the two of us in the same room at the same time wasn’t as simple as she thought it would be. I’m not about to bug her about something so trivial while she’s dealing with… fucking everything else that woman deals with regularly.

So, I’m going to spend today doing what I do best: staying out of the way and letting the professionals do their thing.

Our bus moves at a steady pace through the city of Austin, Texas, but we come to a slow crawl once we reach the park on the south side where the festival is taking place. Crossing guards direct us into a lane designed to shuffle talent past the entrance and toward the back, where the other buses are parked all in a line.

Once we stop, an event coordinator hops onto the bus. He chats with the managers for a minute before leaving again and Jordan rises to address all of us.

“All right,” she says, holding up a bundle of lanyards. “Everyone gets a backstage pass.”

The band takes one each and passes the rest down until the last one reaches me.

“I get one, too?” I ask before taking it.

Jordan nods. “You’re part of Team CR, buddy,” she simply says before nodding at the band. “Now, remember what I told you. Don’t wander off.”

They mutter in agreement. Bronson gives her a thumbs up.

“Okay, then,” she says. “Now, everybody follow Chrissy. She’ll lead you to our gear.”

Then, she and Chrissy spin around and march off the bus, fully expecting us to follow close behind them.

One-by-one, we do just that. August and I stay back, letting Criminal Records go first. Knox with Harmony. Then Jonah and Bronson and Katrina.

Addison hangs back for a moment. She smiles at me, her eyes so bright. Her hair so wavy and perfect. My rock goddess.

Fuck, she’s pretty.

I smile back. I want to rush to her and give her a hug and a kiss and tell her to break a leg, but I don’t. She asked me for space until we reach New Orleans, and that’s what I’m doing to give her.

Fuck it.

“Break a leg,” I say.

Addison nods once and walks off the bus.

August pats my shoulder, and we follow the rest, too.

When we step outside onto the grass, he grabs my shoulder excitedly again, but I don’t have to look at him to know what he’s so excited about.

The other buses.

Cybertower. Rash and Burn. The Critters. Bands we grew up with. Bands directly responsible for all my bad fashion decisions throughout high school. Bands who continue to shape who I am as an artist. They’re all here.

And all August and I have to do is sit back and enjoy the show.

“Harvey,” Jordan says, suddenly in front of me with her clipboard. “You ready?”

“Ready for what?” I ask.

“It’s Dade time.”

She gestures me to follow her, but I don’t.

I literally fucking can’t.

“Wait, what? Dade time? Like… Dade Connery time?” I ask.

“You still want to meet him, right?” she asks.

My stomach twists. I look at August, wondering if he knew about this, but he shakes his head. “Yes! Yes, I do.”

She waves us along. “Well, come on.”

“Right now?” I ask, having lost all feeling in my toes. “We’re going to meet him right now?”

“He’s a busy guy.” Jordan pauses, twisting to look at us over her shoulder. “It’s now or never, boys. You coming or not?”

“Yes!” August nudges me forward. “Yes! We’re coming!”

One step at a time, I follow Jordan with August by my side. We wander out of the backstage area and enter the crowd, keeping to the fringes to make it through as fast as possible. Faces become blurs. Shouts echo into nothing between my ears. My heart pounds, overtaking the music blasting from the stage — which happens to be The Electrics but not even Ignite the Night’s infectious chorus can distract me from my impending panic.

Man, I wish I got a slot up on that stage. If I did, I definitely would have rushed to get something ready with Harmony and brought her up there with me as well. I wonder if she’d have booked a slot all on her own if what happened back in Seattle never happened. Damn, that’s?—

Focus, Harvey!

I can’t!

I don’t want to!

I can’t make myself think about where Jordan is leading me right now because if I do, I’ll freak the fuck out!

Jordan stops outside of a large tent set up on the far side of the park facing the stage. A security guard halts us outside and Jordan gets to work, explaining who we are and what we dare to be doing here. The guard says something into the radio attached to his shoulder and, a moment later, the tent opens on a burly, middle-aged man with a thick beard and a leather jacket covered in patches. He glances around with annoyance, then instantly perks up when he sees Jordan.

“Jordan fucking Peck!” he says, his voice booming above the noise behind us.

Jordan laughs. “Hey, Donny!”

He bounds toward her and scoops her up off the ground as if she weighed nothing at all. August and I stand back while he twirls her around twice, then drops her back down.

“How the heck are you, little lady?” Donny asks, bending at the waist so he can hear her reply.

“Busy as always,” she says. “Actually, I’m here to turn in that favor we talked about.”

He stands up, hovering nearly a foot above me at his full height. “Oh, right. Right! Whatcha need?”

Jordan turns toward me. “Donny, this is Harvey Moon,” she says, gesturing me forward as August pushes me there. “The new guy I told you about.”

“Harvey Moon! Sure, sure!” Donny says, his voice still booming, but I think that’s just his default setting. “Stage name?”

“No,” I answer. “It’s my real name.”

“Great name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Donny Blue.” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard. “Stage name, of course. But Donald Blomqvistberg don’t fit so good on a business card.”

I laugh. “No, I don’t imagine it does.”

“Donny Blue is the best manager in the industry,” Jordan says, both for me and August.

August nods, immediately interested in a new networking opportunity.

Donny laughs. “No, sweetheart, that’s you,” he says to Jordan. “I’m just the most famous one.”

She dismisses that with a hand wave, but accepts it with a smile. “Harvey is currently touring with Criminal Records.”

Donny tilts back. “Oh, so you’re the Opening Act I keep reading so much about.”

“Depends on what you’ve read,” August says, extending his hand forward, his business card nestled in his palm. “August Boyd. I’m his manager.”

Donny takes the card as they shake hands, a maneuver he’s obviously done a thousand times. “Nice to meet you. Any friends of Jordan’s are friends of mine. Well, come on in, boys.”

Donny spins around and enters the tent, leaving the curtain open for us to follow. Jordan and August do just that, happy to accept the invitation into the unknown.

As for me, it takes me a breath and a half before stepping forward once and another before the other leg remembers how to function.

I walk inside the tent.

Cool air touches my skin, the temperature inside easily ten degrees cooler than outside. The tent is large — far more luxurious than expected, with wood paneled floors and comfortable furniture. A couch extends down the left side, with two young women sitting on it wearing dresses that leave little to the imagination. Across from them is an armchair with a side table covered in papers and magazines. Behind that is a refrigerator and a table with plenty of snacks laid out on top.

At the back of the tent sits a small desk. A third young woman sits perched on the edge, her long, bare legs hanging down.

And next to her, with his hand gently crawling up her calf, is… him.

It’s really him!

He has his back to us, but I’d recognize him anywhere.

Dade Connery. My hero.

The greatest living rockstar in the world.

And he’s standing five feet away from me.