Born to Rock by Gordon Korman Page B

could have ratted them out, and they all knew it. I think I made some points there.
    But not with Cam. When we were alone in the room, he looked at me and growled, “Who’s King to you? Your daddy?”
    I didn’t say a word. I just flashed him my friendliest smile and crawled into bed, burrowing my McMurphy ear deep into the pillow.

[14]
    MY NEWFOUND FRIENDS, THE ROADIES, were driving to San Francisco with the equipment trucks. King invited me to fly up with the band on Neb’s ticket, so we’d have a chance to spend some time together.
    And we did. In first class, no less. But it wasn’t exactly quality time. The life of a rock band on tour was like boot camp. There were no thirty-mile hikes or cleaning the toilet with your toothbrush. But every day was kind of an obstacle course.
    Autographs to sign in the hotel lobby; sharing the limo ride with an interviewer. There was always something to suck up every spare minute. When we got to the airport, Max was waiting for us with an enormous poodle on a leash.
    â€œWhat the hell is that doing here?” Bernie demanded.
    â€œHe’s coming with us,” the drummer said, and you could tell by his tone that there was more to the story.
    The manager was horrified. “You can’t take a dog on tour!”
    â€œI got stuck with him,” Max explained. “Penelope dumped him with the desk clerk at six A.M . The proctologist is taking her to Rio for three weeks.”
    â€œWell, she’s got to change her plans!” Bernie exploded.
    â€œShe’s already gone!” cried Max. “Don’t you get it? This was her plan—to stick me with Llama because she’s pissed about the divorce.”
    â€œFind a kennel,” Bernie ordered. “There are no poodles in punk. It doesn’t fit the image.”
    Max didn’t even hear him. “A hundred grand to redo the kitchen in a house I’m not even going to be allowed to live in anymore. Tiffany’s shopping for grad schools. I’m going to be on the street!”
    But, stressed as he was, Max dug in his heels and threatened to boycott the tour. With Neb already on ice, Purge couldn’t afford to lose another original member. Pretty soon, Llama was being crammed into an animal carrier and loaded with the luggage. He howled all the way up the conveyor belt. As a matter of fact, we could still hear him in the belly of the plane, complaining throughout the trip.
    â€œIt could have been worse,” was King’s only comment. “He could have brought Penelope. She’s louder.”
    We finally got airborne, but the business didn’t end as LAX fell away beneath us. The minute the seat belt sign went off, Bernie took the floor.
    â€œOkay, listen up. Pete Vukovich of the Stem Cells has agreed to stand in for Neb. He says he knows our stuff. I’ve arranged for rehearsal time tonight to bring him up to speed.” He cleared his throat carefully. “What happened to Neb—it’s too bad, but let it be a lesson to us. We’re not twenty-five anymore. We’ve got to put on a good show, and do what we do. But let’s know our limitations. We’re none of us as young as we’d like to be.” He grinned at me. “Except for Leo.”
    He turned to his bassist, who was double-fisting doughnuts from the hospitality cart. “And try to go easy on the eating, will you, Zach?”
    Zach was offended. “You’re our manager, not our mother.”
    â€œI speak up for the interests of this band,” Bernie said righteously. “Purge is a lean and hungry look. You’re pushing the outer limits of that.”
    â€œHey, I’m starving myself on the Richmond Hill diet—”
    â€œLooks more like the Krispy Kreme diet,” put in Max.
    Zach waved one of his doughnuts in the air. “I budgeted for this. I was entitled to half a grapefruit for breakfast, and I skipped my carrot sticks from last