The band was divided between two tour busses, these ones slick and expensive looking inside and out, a sleek, glossy modern black with Two-Way Street emblazoned in yellow script on the outside.
The band stopped and gawked as they got out of the taxis.
Roadies wearing black tshirts with Two Way Street in the signature spray-paint looking script on their backs and chests moved busily between the two sleek busses and the less glamourous support vehicles that would accommodate the tour’s support staff and equipment.
“Daddy, does this mean we have made it to heaven?” James wondered, saying what they were all feeling. This tour was no expense spared, the contrast to the last stark.
“It sure does, Jimmy, it sure does,” Jeremy answered. “Or at least we have attracted the attention of
