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Chris blinked slowly. "Wait, wait... What?"
Phil shook his head, raising his hands palm-up. "It's honestly not my doing, Chris. I know you really wanted to do the tour alone, and I know they're not really prime tour-mates, but we can't back out now. We're arse deep. I'm so sorry."
"I know, Phil. It's all right. I know you tried." Chris paused, turning his eyes to his manager. "Didn't you?"
"Yeah, yeah I did!" Phil looked slightly annoyed.
"It's just that... well... they're the ones who'll draw the crowds. I'd like it if we were the ones who drew them ourselves, you know?" Chris sighed.
"But Parlophone doesn't quite have that kind of faith in you yet," Phil reminded him, though slightly wistfully. "You've got to stun their knickers off and be totally brilliant and then you'll have Blur opening for *you.*"
Chris nodded, looking slightly forlorn. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, mate."
Phil bowed his head and left the room, leaving Chris to his own thoughts. The tall singer leaned against the window, brooding. Honestly, it could have been worse. They could've been stuck with Oasis, perhaps, though it was unlikely. Or even Starsailor. Not a bad band, but James Walsh had a rather significant attitude problem.
But still.
Blur and Coldplay were two good bands, respectively. Chris had played with unlikely band matches before, but that was usually a one or two-time thing, staged by a radio station or a record label. However, a three-month tour was completely different.
The first thing Chris felt was intense worry. How would Jonny react? Will rather liked Blur, and Guy was a fan of their older music. But Blur had been hailed with recreating the Britpop world, called geniuses of their time, all that rubbish. And Chris had to admit, some of it was true. In a time where every song was like a jingle, forgotten the moment it faded from the air, Blur had created one or two songs that would live forever. Even if they weren't lauded as the anthem of the 20^th century, they still stirred something inside you. Pretty impressive for a band that also had a song with a chorus of "girls who want boys who like boys to be girls who do boys like girls who do girls like they're boys..."
Even so, Chris was sick with anticipation. He wondered what Damon Albarn would be like - humbled by his own blinding success or a completely arrogant prick? They had all started this gig for life with one thought in mind - to make really good music. Fame was just a side effect, not always included, usually sold separately. It, personally, rather irritated Chris. He would've liked the cameras out of his face for good. Was Damon like that, or did he want attention all the time? Was he bitchy and argumentative or patient and tolerant?
"Bloody hell!" Will shouted, pushing through the doorway of the little conference room. "BLUR?!" He caught Chris' eye and they traded a look. "Blur?" he repeated, his voice meeker.
"Yes, Blur," Chris said tiredly. He pushed off his perch on the windowsill and paced over to Will. "Excited?"
Will mulled this over a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Hope they like us."
Chris shrugged half-heartedly. "Yeah. Nothing sucks more than 3 months with a bunch of divas."
Will nodded again. "They're telling Guy and Jon." He stopped, then grinned deviously. "I bet you Jonny freaks."
Chris couldn't help but laugh. "You're probably right."
The stocky drummer nudged him with a smile and tilted his head at the doorway. "Let's go see."
- - -
Damon took a drag of his cigarette boredly. His manager eyed him reluctantly. "I talked to Phil Harvey, their manager," he said, shuffling through some important looking papers. "He okayed it and said they'd be delighted." When he saw Damon's lack of interest, he pressed harder. "It'll be good for the fans to see you all back together. I mean, seeing as how badly Graham and Alex have crashed and burned where you shone phenomenally, it's obvious Blur is nothing without you."
"This isn't about Blur," Damon said roughly, glaring. "it's about Coldplay. For Chrissake, they're like... they're so..."
"Good?" his manager suggested.
"So bloody 'easy listening'!" Damon spat. "I mean, honestly. They all look like they grew up on a farm or something."
"Not necessarily - their new stuff is a lot harder, much more similar to what Blur used to do. And the singer's voice is brilliant."
Damon made a face.
"All right, well, we can work around it, can't we?" his manager tried. "You don't have to talk to them much. I'll be the go-between, all right? How does that sound?"
Damon nodded. It was acceptable.
"So it's settled then," the man announced. "Brilliant."
'It was settled before you even talked to me, you wanker,' Damon wanted to say. But he didn't. He got up and strode out.