Chapter Text
“Hey Steve, can I turn this group over to you?”
Steve startled and looked up from his computer at the speaker. Nancy was standing on the other side of his cubicle wall with her arms crossed on top of it. She was smiling sweetly in the way she only did when she was asking for something outside of his job description.
“When is the group coming?” Steve asked, and Nancy almost suppressed her grimace.
“They’re coming in July—”
“ July , Nance? It’s March ,” Steve huffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “You have to turn it over to Joyce, and if she assigns me the group, fine. July is too far out—”
“If I give it to Joyce, she’s going to assign it to one of the event managers, and they’re going to screw it up,” Nancy said quietly, glancing around the office. “I only trust you to handle this one. It’s rooms only, no catering needed.”
Steve wouldn’t deny that the praise had him reconsidering his protests just a bit. But only a bit , because she was still asking him to take on a group that wasn’t arriving for three months without consulting his boss at all. He was the group housing coordinator for a luxury hotel connected to the international airport, and while he handled a few groups on his own, it was only in specific cases. What Nancy was asking was not even remotely in the realm of those specific cases.
“You have to turn it over to Joyce,” Steve said plainly before turning back to his computer to continue making a room block for one of the event manager’s groups. That was his job; making room blocks and booking rooms for groups coming to the hotel. “You can always tell her that you want me to take it.”
“Then she definitely won’t assign it to you,” Nancy insisted, exasperated.
Steve sighed and pushed his glasses on top of his head so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. Joyce usually didn’t assign the groups to Steve like Nancy asked in an effort to keep Steve’s plate from being piled too high. Once, Nancy ended up turning over so many groups directly to Steve that he got overwhelmed and burnt out. He was more or less forced to take all three weeks of his unused and rolled over vacation days.
Since then, Joyce had a strict policy that the sales team could only turn small groups arriving within the next ten days directly over to Steve.
“Steve, please , I promise you’ll want this one,” Nancy pressed, and Steve let his head drop forward.
“Is it a tour?” he asked grumpily, knowing there were only three types of groups that would sway him in her campaign.
“Nope,” Nancy said, and Steve could hear the triumphant smile on her lips. “It’s a band and the film crew. They’re doing some kind of tour documentary.”
Steve groaned and dropped his forehead onto the desk. While he liked handling tours, Steve loved handling bands and film crews. Even the most difficult clients were still straight-forward enough with interesting people. They needed rooms, they sent you the requirements for their stay, and you followed their instructions. Half of the time the bands would cancel before they even arrived, and the film crews were usually quiet once they got settled.
“Do I know the band?” he grumbled, not even lifting his head.
Nancy scoffed. “Do you listen to metal?” she asked, and Steve lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at her. She was smirking down at him. “Didn’t think so. Don’t worry about it. I only know who it is because the above-property sales person told me when she sent me the signed contract.”
“You’re assuming I’m taking it,” Steve said flatly, but he knew Nancy won.
Nancy gave him a patient smile as she dropped the printed contract on his desk. “I’ll send the rest of the details for you to make the room block. There’s a note that the tour manager wants the confirmation numbers ASAP.”
With that, Nancy walked back to her desk around the corner.
On his desk, Steve’s cell phone buzzed.
Robbie: food in dusty-buns office >:3c
Steve: be there in 5 😩
❖
“She has you so whipped, Steve.”
Steve sat on the staging table in one of the banquet storage rooms and ate a plate of leftover food from a buffet the team just cleared. They affectionately called this storage room Dustin’s “office” since the banquet server was most often working events and using that staging and storage area.
He gave Robin a baleful glare as he shoveled another scoop of ravioli into his mouth.
“Yeah, dude, why are you even letting her boss you around? Just tell my mom,” Dustin said, popping open a can of soda. Steve rolled his eyes at the suggestion. Claudia Henderson was the Director of Sales and Nancy’s boss, and Steve knew he should be telling her that Nancy was overstepping again.
He didn’t actually want to, though.
“I’m not gonna tattle to your mom , Dustin,” Steve sighed heavily.
“Yeah, because Nancy Wheeler has you whipped ,” Robin repeated, rolling her eyes. “She’s totally taking advantage because she knows you’re still not over her—”
“Okay, first of all, I am totally over her, like one-thousand percent over her,” Steve said quickly, pointing at Robin. “And she said she doesn’t trust the event managers to handle bands or film crews, and honestly? Valid.”
“I don’t know enough about rooms to dispute your expertise in them,” Robin admitted sadly, grabbing another fancy little brownie bite.
“You don’t know anything about rooms,” Steve agreed, smirking at her. “Anyway, it’s one group, and they’ll probably cancel anyway.”
“Why do you think that?” Robin asked.
Steve heaved a big sigh as he settled in to explain as simply as he could. “Half the time bands will cancel, usually because their tour got all fucked up for one reason or another. Anyway, this group is booking their rooms three months in advance. There’s no way they’ll actually come.”
“But you said they’re traveling with a film crew, right? Wouldn’t they have a pretty strict filming schedule?” Dustin asked, and Steve shrugged.
“No idea,” he replied.
“Who’s the band?” Robin asked, and Steve shrugged again. Robin scoffed. “Seriously? You don’t know?”
“I know they’re a metal band. None of the paperwork says the band’s name, and the rooming list has fake names already,” Steve replied. “Typical procedure for higher profile bands, so they might be a big deal. I don’t really care, honestly.”
Just as he finished saying that, Steve’s phone started ringing.
“Hello, this is Steve,” he answered.
“Hey, I know you’re on your lunch, but the tour manager called asking about the rooming list,” Nancy said, her tone apologetic.
“Revisit the first half of that sentence, Nance,” Steve said, but he was already putting his plate aside to hop down from the table.
Robin made a whip-cracking noise with a roll of her eyes.
“I know, just— the tour manager seems really high-strung about it,” Nancy pressed, and she did sound genuinely sorry for calling on his break.
“I’m. On. My. Lunch,” Steve said slowly and deliberately as he waved goodbye to Robin and Dustin, slipping out of Dustin’s office.
“Fine, fine, just make sure you get it done before the end of the day,” Nancy sighed and hung up.
Steve let out a slow breath as he walked back to his office ten minutes before the end of his lunch break.
❖
Sitting back down at his desk, Steve pulled up the details for the block and opened the rooming list the tour manager sent.
He was startled, but appreciative of the fact that the riders were included in the same document, even if that meant that the rooming list was given to him in the worst possible format: A goddamn PDF .
Steve was used to it by that point, coming from entertainment groups; it was a security thing. That didn’t make it any less frustrating to handle.
Grumbling to himself, Steve did what he did best; tucked himself in to read the contract from top to bottom, then back again, then did the same with the riders. Then came all the technical stuff of building the room block, then struggling through getting the names off the PDF and into a spreadsheet to book the rooms.
“They could’ve sent this when it was still a Word document but no ,” Steve grumbled bitchily, shoving his glasses back up his nose. “They had to be all fancy and important and send it as a fucking PDF.”
Finally, when that was all done and the rooms were confirmed, Steve pulled up a blank email and the tour manager’s contact details in their system.
The manager’s name was Chris Cunningham, according to the information the above-property sales manager input, and something about that name did sound familiar. Steve couldn’t place it right away, so he gave up trying and went back to starting his email.
Good afternoon Chris,
It’s a pleasure to e-meet you!
Thank you so much for choosing our property to host your group. I have reserved the rooms and attached the confirmed rooming list here for your reference. Please confirm that everything is correct at your earliest convenience.
Since there is still time before your group will be arriving, I will reach out a bit closer to when we will take the deposit for the rooms to confirm some of the other details.
Please do not hesitate to reach out at any time! It is my pleasure to assist you.
Once again, thank you for choosing our property, and I look forward to working with you.
Warmest regards,
Steve Harrington - Group Housing and Events Coordinator
Nodding at that email, Steve attached the documents and hit send. Then he set about putting the print-out of the contract and riders into a folder to tuck away until he had to look at it in June.
With all of that finished, Steve was able to do his other work. He literally didn’t have to worry about this group for months .
But he ran into an issue with a client the week before where he couldn’t email her anything with an attachment from his work email without it being bounced back to him. Nancy had told him the manager seemed high-strung about the rooming list.
With a groan, he decided he’d call the manager just to make sure the list was received. Steve didn’t hate talking on the phone, but it was a close thing.
“Maybe they won’t even pick-up,” Steve muttered as the line rang once, twice—
“ Hellooo , this is Cunningham’s phone,” a deep voice drawled, and Steve internally cursed his luck.
Slapping on his cheeriest smile, Steve said, “Hi Chris, this is Steve calling from the hotel in Chicago! I’m the event manager for your group staying in July.”
There was silence on the other line, and Steve hoped the line had dropped.
“Sorry, that was a lot of words at once,” Chris said, and Steve made a pained face.
“Is this Chris?” Steve asked, and the man on the other line laughed.
“Yeah, sure, I’m Chris. I’ll be whoever you want, handsome,” Chris replied, and Steve felt like he could actually hear the grin. “How can I help?”
Steve frowned because this guy sounded bored and relaxed, nothing like Nancy had been describing earlier which made him a bit angry. She rode his ass about this rooming list and the guy was actually super laid-back?
“Yes, hi Chris, I’m Steve? The event manager for your group arriving in July?” Steve repeated, keeping his voice pleasant even if his building headache was making him bitchy. “I was just following up to introduce myself over the phone, and also to confirm that you received the rooming list I just sent.”
“Oh shit, let me check,” Chris huffed, and Steve could hear him messing with the phone. “Yep, looks like we got it. You’re fast.”
Steve preened under the praise. “Thanks. I understand how important speedy confirmations can be, especially during a stressful tour,” he said sweetly, and Chris laughed.
“It’s a stressful tour, alright,” he sighed.
Steve hesitated a couple seconds before he said, “Alright, I’m glad you got the list. I won’t reach out again until the beginning of June, but please—do not hesitate to email or call if you have any questions, concerns, or requests.”
“Oh, you’ll definitely be hearing from me, Stevie,” Chris teased, and Steve blushed a bit at the nickname. He knew he should be annoyed by it a little, but it was cute, and Chris’s voice really did it for him.
“Sounds good, Chris,” Steve said, and he wasn’t pretending to be nice completely. “I’ll talk to you later.”
At that, Steve hung up his phone and stared at his keyboard for several long seconds.
He hadn’t dealt with a flirtatious guest or client since he left the front desk a year ago, and already this felt like unfamiliar territory. Maybe Chris would lose interest and settle down as they worked together.
Steve found himself quietly hoping that didn’t happen, though.
❖
In a bunk bed on a tour bus on the other side of the country, Eddie Munson stared at the phone in his hand with a little smile tugging at his mouth.
It was a short conversation but there was something really nice about having a conversation with someone who treated him like a normal human being. It had been years since Eddie could talk to someone other than his band mates, manager, and uncle without it being either drenched in starstruck hero-worship or stilted professionalism.
At first, that had been exciting. They finally made it . After all of their hard work and grinding and sleepless, penniless weeks of driving themselves to gigs, they did it . Eddie wasn’t the local drug dealing deadbeat loser every high school teacher believed he would be forever. He was somebody , and people either worshiped him or at least respected him.
He just never expected stardom to become so lonely .
Obviously, Eddie had the boys and Chrissy, all of them sticking together through the worst of times and reaping the benefits of the best of times. He was never alone , and for that Eddie was grateful.
But sometimes he just wished he could make more friends, maybe even have something more than casual sex with someone. Someone who saw Eddie , not the frontman of one of the biggest metal bands in the scene currently.
Now, Eddie wasn’t completely stupid. He knew that Steve was only so relaxed because he was under the impression that he was talking to the tour manager. But still, it was nice . He liked it.
“Dude, is that Chrissy’s phone?”
Eddie jumped and looked up at Jeff with wide eyes. Jeff was standing in the doorway of the “bedroom” of the tour bus. For a moment, Eddie was struck with the idea to eat the phone to hide it which he put a stop to immediately.
“Maybe,” Eddie said elusively, rolling so he was laying more on his side rather than on his stomach.
“You know she’s literally about to have an aneurysm out there trying to find that, right?” Jeff asked with a snort before he climbed up into his bunk across the small hall between beds.
“At this point, if she hasn’t figured out that I have her phone one-hundred percent of the time she can’t find it, that's on her,” Eddie said haughtily, going back to the game of Sudoku he was struggling with before Steve called.
“Maybe you should stop losing your phone, yeah?” Jeff suggested tiredly, throwing his arm over his eyes.
Eddie pouted at the puzzle. “I didn’t lose my phone,” he grumbled, and Jeff snorted.
“Okay, fine , maybe you should stop completely destroying your phones , plural,” he said, and Eddie felt his ears heat up.
It wasn’t his fault that they made phones more and more fragile while also making them too big to fit in his pockets. It’s also not his fault that he was prone to jumping up onto surfaces he shouldn’t be climbing on and horsing around. He had a diagnosis for that and a prescription and everything, he was honestly doing his best.
Maybe goofing off on the half-wall overlooking the Grand Canyon while wearing his tightest pair of jeans with the least effective pockets last week wasn’t the best decision, but it wasn’t his fault .
The time before that, he was just trying to get a signal while they drove through the boonies. It wasn’t his fault that the bus driver hit a pothole the second Eddie held his phone close to the open window. It truly actually wasn’t.
And before that, he actually just lost his phone. Eddie was positive he had it in his bag, and then when they got to the next venue, it wasn’t there. That happens to the best of people all the time, right?
According to his band mates, no , that didn’t happen to people all the time, but he was pretty sure they were all just conspiring to make him look like a weirdo.
“Whatever, the point is Chrissy knows I always have her phone when she can’t find it. Her freaking out is just silly,” Eddie said with a sniff, glaring down at the Sudoku puzzle he was making zero progress with.
“Edward Munson!”
Jeff peered over the edge of his bunk to smirk at Eddie’s wide-eyed stare. “Uh oh,” he teased as Chrissy approached.
“Jeff! Quick! Get my cane,” Eddie hissed, frantically pointing at it where it hung from its wrist strap on a hook. He wouldn’t be able to jump up and get it quick enough himself, but he needed to defend himself somehow . Chrissy was a dirty fighter.
Jeff just laughed and shook his head. “No fuckin’ way I’m getting involved,” he said as Chrissy appeared in the doorway, red-faced and furious.
“You!” she practically shrieked, pointing at him as he shoved the phone between his body and the mattress as if she hadn’t already seen it in his hands.
“What?” he asked innocently, and he screamed as she dove into his bunk to wrestle the phone out from under him.
They tussled for a while, Chrissy yelling all sorts of expletives at him that were honestly still a shock coming from her sweet face. And again, she was a dirty fighter.
“Ow, shit! Did you just bite me?” Eddie hissed, grabbing Chrissy’s whole face and pushing her away as he looked at the distinctly teeth-shaped indents on his arm following the curve of one of his burn scars. The bite mark was deep, just barely not breaking skin and would definitely bruise.
Then Chrissy licked his palm like an animal , and he recoiled enough that he rolled off of her phone.
“What the fuck, Cunningham, that’s disgusting,” Eddie said with a glower, wiping his hand off on his shirt as Chrissy checked for new messages. When she didn’t respond, he added suggestively, “you have no idea where my hand has been.”
“I’ve had worse in my mouth than whatever you’ve got going on,” Chrissy muttered, and Eddie grimaced.
“Now I’m thinking about Jason’s dick. Thanks for that, Chris,” Eddie groaned, and Chrissy just snorted.
“I was actually talking about that pizza we were subjected to by the venue last week, but okay, bring my ex’s dick into this,” Chrissy said before smacking Eddie’s chest.
“Ow, my nipples,” Eddie pouted.
She just smacked him again, trying not to laugh as Jeff interjected with, “You only have one nipple, dude.”
“Stop stealing my phone!” Chrissy bit out through her teeth, trying to be intimidating but honestly channeling the energy of a chihuahua puppy.
“I didn’t steal it! I was just using it! Secretly! While you were looking for it! Without asking!” Eddie said, barely containing his laugh.
“You’re an asshole, you know that? We’re getting you a new phone as soon as we have time,” Chrissy huffed, tossing her phone back onto Eddie’s bed, which he immediately snatched back up. “Don’t hide it from me.”
“Did you fucking delete all the answers I figured out on this stupid puzzle?” Eddie gasped, looking at Chrissy with wide eyes.
“Maybe I did,” she said huffily, puffing up her chest as she crossed her arms.
“You monster ,” Eddie wailed, flopping back and laying the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically.
“Well, maybe you’ll think before you destroy your next phone, huh?” Chrissy said, reaching over to quickly and viciously pinch Eddie’s nipple through his shirt. As Eddie yelped, she quickly dove off the bunk with a shrieking giggle and fled the bus.
For a moment Eddie tried to chase her, but after all the wrestling, they had managed to get his blankets tangled around his legs. Plus, his bad leg didn’t really allow for jumping up and chasing anyone at the best of times. Did Eddie only stop trying when he wound up in an undignified heap on the floor of the bus? Perhaps.
“You good, Eddie?”
When Eddie looked up, he was met with Jeff’s phone out and clearly recording , if the way he was stifling his laughter was anything to go by.
Eddie groaned and dropped his forehead to the floor with a loud thump.
Of course, Jeff would be recording this whole mess, just like Gareth had recorded the exact moment he realized his phone had fallen into a literal canyon last week. Naturally, all these moments would be edited together for their next “Tour Diary” on their YouTube channel.
And yes, the incident with Eddie’s phone falling out the window of the moving bus was also caught on video, and the fans had lost it . So yeah, now their tour diaries included an entire section dubbed “Cringefail Eddie” and it was all good fun.
Crawling back into his bunk, Eddie picked up Chrissy’s phone and started the Sudoku puzzle over again with a bright smile on his face. Yeah, stardom was kind of lonely, but he still had his best friends along for the ride with him.