"Mr. Marc is my father—just call me John."
Ronan could sense the friendliness from the other end of the line, but he didn't play by the usual script. Instead of switching or sticking to formalities, he chuckled lightly. "We haven't even met yet, and we're already on such cozy terms? That might make some folks a little uneasy."
His half-joking tone set the stage, then he smoothly pivoted. "So, what's the situation? You sound pretty urgent."
John's commanding vibe carried a top-down authority, but Ronan didn't agree or push back outright. He framed it as a question, circling back to the point with an underlying stance that was crystal clear:
I don't know what's going on here. You're asking my band to drop everything and crisscross the country on your say-so? That's a tall order. Sure you don't want to fill me in first?
It was a gentle yet firm response, and John caught on quick. Ronan's warm, easygoing tone was like a spring breeze—never offensive or confrontational, it just naturally calmed you down.
John's frayed, exhausted nerves eased up a bit. This kind of conversation felt… comfortable.
For the past 72 hours, ever since an unexpected hiccup popped up two days ago, John had been scrambling for a fix. The pressure was mounting, and he couldn't help getting more anxious and irritable. Sleeplessness was creeping in worse by the day—less rest wasn't helping—and his mind was stuck in a loop: utterly drained, desperate for a break, but unable to stop.
He still hadn't found a solid solution, and yeah, he was on edge—though he hid it well.
Now, though, his taut nerves loosened just a fraction. It wasn't much, but it was something rare.
On the surface, John stayed cool and breezy, explaining as if he'd planned to clarify all along, Ronan's nudge or not.
"Here's the deal: Bruno's world tour is wrapping up, but our opening act got stuck in Brazil due to an accident. They can't make it back anytime soon, which means we need a replacement."
"Someone recommended King for a Day, said your music's got something special. So, I checked you out on YouTube. Gotta say, they were right—your performances have a real spark. And here we are."
Three sentences, tops. John summed up the chaos of the last 72 hours with razor-sharp efficiency.
It wasn't complicated, really.
Bruno Mars' Doo-Wops & Hooligans world tour had been rolling for over a year. Kicking off in the US, it hit Europe, Oceania, Asia, and South America before circling back to the States for the final shows. After that, Bruno was set to dive into his second album.
The openers were locked in from the start—only venues holding 5,000 or more needed them; smaller gigs didn't. Bruno lined up three acts for different regions:
Ellie Goulding, a British singer on the rise, had dropped her debut album in 2009 to solid UK success and was starting to crack North America with her singles.
Nico & Vinz, a Norwegian rap duo, were still underground, no official releases yet, but their raw talent was undeniable.
Then there was Fitz & The Tantrums, the heavy lifters of the tour. Formed in LA in 2008, this rock band released their first album in 2010 to lukewarm buzz. Bruno, though, was obsessed with them, convinced they had star potential, so he gave them a big shot.
Fitz didn't just open every North American date—they tagged along to Asia and South America too, shouldering the tour's biggest warm-up role. Europe was split between Ellie Goulding and Nico & Vinz.
You could see how much Bruno valued them.
Fitz delivered, too. Over a year of steady gigs built them a solid fanbase, setting the stage for their next album. But three days ago, disaster struck out of nowhere.
They'd been in Brazil with Bruno for the tour's final overseas stop. After wrapping in Florianópolis—a famous resort spot—the plan was simple: three last North American shows to cap off the epic Doo-Wops & Hooligans run.
Bruno jetted back to LA first for production meetings on his second album. Fitz stayed behind two extra days, waiting for a flight to Washington.
Then it all went sideways.
Florianópolis trapped them.
Brazil, gearing up for the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics, was eager to shine globally. But beneath the gloss, deep issues festered—education, healthcare, transit, the economy, all a mess. Everyday life was a grind, and back-to-back mega-events only made it worse, tanking the economy further.
Fed-up locals seized a bus fare hike as their spark, igniting protests that swept through dozens of Brazilian cities—including Florianópolis. Flights to Washington got canceled, the airport shut down, and Fitz had to drive to Rio de Janeiro for another shot at flying out. Latest word? The highways might not be safe, and Rio's no picnic either.
Time-wise, they'd likely miss the Washington gig. Safety-wise, Bruno didn't want them risking their necks just to make it. People come first.
So, John-Marc had to start hunting for a backup opener.