The next morning Gabe woke early, used to the early-morning schedule that taking on the road entailed.

It was a quarter past seven when he knocked on Mark's hotel door. Gabe knew the manager would be awake as it was his unspoken duty to get the band moving for the day.

Gabe didn't really believe they were adults sometimes.

The door was flung open with enthusiasm and Mark stood in the doorway, wide awake and cheery. "Ah, Gabe!" he said, gesturing with his hand. "Come in."

"You wanted to see me?" Gabe asked, stepping over the threshold and entering Mark's pristine hotel room. He could've sworn all the band manager knew was crisp suits and fresh hotel linens. Gabe had never seen a single mess where Mark was concerned. It made him wonder how he dealt with the boys for so long.

"Have a seat, Gabe."

Raising an eyebrow, Gabe regarded the manager suspiciously as he sunk slowly into the chair next to the small table in the kitchenette.

"I called you here because there's something we need to discuss."

Gabe sat silently, waiting.

"We need a new drum technician."

Gabe frowned. "What happened to Chris?"

"Quit last night." Mark replied, a hint of anger in his voice. "Said somethin' about being underpaid and work equality rights or some nonsense. I tell ya, if the man had been bothered to lift a finger out of his own ass and actually do some work, I would've put him higher on the payroll."

Gabe said nothing. It wasn't as though he disagreed with Mark because he was right. Chris was a lazy bastard who spent more time cheating on his wife on the road than actually working. Though the technicians weren't paid as generously as the roadies, Gabe knew that the amount well and truly surpassed the average threshold of standard pay. Chris was an idiot.

Still, Gabe was confused. "What does this have to do with me?" he asked.

Mark's stance was authorial but relaxed. "You're going to be the new drum technician."

"What?" Gabe nearly knocked his chair over when he stood up. "Why?"

"I'd have thought you wanted to climb the ranks higher in this position."

"As if I could get any higher than the band's bedsheets." Gabe scowled. "I don't give a fuck about this job."

Mark regarded him with an amused eye. Had it been any other job, Gabe would have been fired on the spot. But that was the thing, it wasn't any other job.

Instead, the manager laughed, a strong and sharp resonation of baritone. "I always liked that about you, kid. You've got a bite to 'ya. Don't lose it. The world's a nasty place as it is."

Gabe didn't reply. Instead, he ran a hand over his face in disgruntlement before asking, "Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"I have no interest in being your drum technician."

"Oh Gabe, I'm not asking."

Gabe bit his tongue, anger welling deep in his bones.

"Besides," Mark said. He walked over to the nightstand and picked up a glass, his heavy silver rings clashing with the crystal as he rolled it in his hand. "You're the only one that can handle it."

"Anyone can input levels and set up a kit."

"I'm not talking about the drums."

It took Gabe a second to come to realisation. "Harley."

Mark smiled at him. "I always knew you were a bright one."

Gabe's frown deepened in his sharp features. "I don't even know the guy."

"That bares little relevance in the equation."

"Meaning?"

Mark flicked him a glance as he uncapped a bottle of Scotch and poured an ounce into the glass. "He seems to have taken an interest in you."

"The feeling isn't mutual."

"It doesn't have to be."

Gabe waited. Mark continued.

"I've known the boy for years, Gabe." he said. "He's never taken an interest in anything."

"Should this be something that requires my care?"

"He's not interested in money, drugs, alcohol. God only knows what he does with those boys in his room." Mark shook his head. "He's a mystery."

"I ain't lookin' to be no fucking detective."

Mark turned back to Gabe, raising his glass a little in a silent gesture. "Do me a favour. Keep him interested, and I'll keep you high on the payroll."

"Is that a threat?"

"An idea." Mark smiled dangerously. "One I suggest you invest in."

Before Gabe could respond, Mark turned away from him. A flick of the wrist indicated their conversation had come to a close. Gabe stood, anger pouring off him in waves. He stalked towards the door.

"Oh, and Gabe?"

He turned and Mark smiled. "I'm not the one who asked for you to be the replacement."

Gabe stormed out of the room.

***

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