by J. Bengtsson
For a guy who’d never wanted kids, I’d fallen in line pretty quick. As labor-intensive as our boy and girl were, I wouldn’t have traded them for the world. I’d gotten lucky. Mine were better than the rest.
Cutting across the parking lot to the tour bus, I quietly made my way up the steps and unlocked the door. Peggy met me at the entrance, and I bent down to show her some love. The puddle of pee at my feet proved how happy our mini Goldendoodle pup was to see me.
Dani, already on her way over with paper towels and a disinfectant wipe, complained, “My god, RJ. We’ve talked about this. Can you be less exciting when you come in?”
“Sorry,” I said, giving her a kiss before she knelt at my feet to clean up the aftermath of my awesomeness.
“Long show tonight,” she said, stating the obvious.
“It was delayed. Electrical issues.”
“I heard. Sorry we didn’t come to watch, but the kids were wiped out after the movie.”
“How was it?”
“The movie? Depends. How do you feel about true love?”
“Not a huge fan.”
“Then you probably would’ve hated it. Oh, and before I forget. Sue messaged. She has a surprise for the kids when we get back. RJ, I don’t think I need to remind you that we don’t want another surprise that pees on shoes.”
“No, we do not. I’ll handle Sue. Are the kids asleep?”
“Are they asleep, he asks.” Dani chuckled, ruffling my hair. “You’re so adorable.”
“So that would be a no?”
“A giant one.”
I groaned. “I can’t sing them a song tonight. Too tired.”
“They don’t need one. All they want is a hug and a kiss. And a hug and a kiss. And a… well, you get the idea.”
“I do,” I said, heading toward the bunks before stopping and drawing Dani into my arms. “Hey, how tired are you?”
“Not tired enough for what I think you’re suggesting.”
“Good. I’ll be in the room in five. Wear that sexy band shirt.”
“The one Parker threw up on?”
“No. The other one.”
“The AnyDayNow one with your face on it?”
“Fuck no.” I cringed. “You know what? On second thought, just be naked.”
She saluted me, tiptoeing past the kids’ closet, as we called it, on her way to the bedroom.
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” I promised.
She nodded, waving at me without even turning around.
“I’ll see you in twenty.”
I opened the door to the bunk room as quietly as possible on the off chance that both might magically be asleep. They weren’t. Parker was on his sister’s upper bunk, her arm around him as she read him a book.
Right, so, Dani’s grand life plan had gone to shit. Not that either of us was complaining. She’d once made me promise to give her a boy and girl—in that order—and a potbellied pig. What we got was a girl, then a boy, and Peggy wasn’t a pig.
“Daddy!” they called out as I stepped in and wrapped them both into the same hug.
“What are you doing up here?” I asked three-year-old Parker.
“Reading with sissy. I know five words,” he said, holding up four fingers. Yep, chip off the old block, that one.
“No reading after bedtime, you know that.”
“We were waiting for you,” my daughter said. “I can’t go to sleep until I know we are all safe inside.”
“I know,” I said, kissing her silky brown hair before turning my attention to her little brother. “Come on, bud.”
I grabbed Parker off the bunk, his legs wrapping around me as he buried his head in my neck. Was it possible to love this much without bursting the heart? I often thought about the many ways Dani had saved me. It started in the parking garage, but it didn’t end there. I credited the person I was today with the man she’d made me. Without her, I wouldn’t be here right now, cuddling with my baby. This was what Albert had been talking about—living life well enough that there would be no regrets when the end finally came for me.
I tucked Parker into bed, kissing him goodnight before focusing on his sister.
“How’s my warrior?” I asked, pulling the blanket up and over her. She held her arms out to me and I dropped in. No one hugged like my little girl did. So solid. So tight.
“Good. I taught Peggy a new trick today.”
“How nice. Maybe next you can teach her not to pee on my foot?”
“I’ll try.” She giggled. “And Mom bought me overalls so I can be like the K-pop boys.”
“You know, I used to be a real-life K-pop boy myself, minus the K.”
“I know. AnyDayNow. But that was in the olden days.”
The olden days? I’d just turned thirty. Hardly a relic.
She must have sensed my insecurity and went in for the kill. “I still think you’re cool… just, no one else does.”
I grabbed my chest, wounded. “Brutal.”
I could have told her that I’d just played to a sold-out crowd or that a woman in the audience had found me ‘cool’ enough to throw her bra up at me on stage tonight, but I didn’t bother. She was eleven. Nothing I said would convince her that I was even half as exciting as her K-pop idols.
She giggled. “You’re the best dad, though.”
I’d take it. “And you’re the best daughter.”
“I know.” She nodded, so confident it made me smile. “Handpicked.”
“Handpicked,” I agreed, so proud of how far this little girl had come.
“I’m glad you’re home. Now I can sleep,” she whispered, yawning. “I love you.”
I kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you more.”
Flicking off the light, I backed out of the room and whispered, “Good night, Parker. Good night, Sarina.”
The End
I hope you enjoyed reading RJ and Dani’s story. Want to know more about the boys of AnyDayNow? For Bodhi and Breeze’s story and to find out why AnyDayNow broke up, one click Like The Wind now!
When a mysterious letter is delivered to him after a concert, life changes in an instant for international pop star Bodhi Beckett.
Reeling from the deception of those closest to him, Bodhi spirals out of control and is sent to a secluded mansion in the coastal mountains of Southern California for some rest and relaxation. But the retreat proves to be anything but relaxing when a raging wildfire sets the landscape around him ablaze.
While escaping the flames, Bodhi rescues Breeze, a quirky, pet-loving woman and together, the two fight their way to safety.
As their connection grows, Bodhi and Breeze hit the road to uncover the truth about his family. What neither of them expected is to forge a powerful connection that will change their lives forever…but can it survive the real world, or will it disappear like the wind?
One Click Like The Wind NOW!
***
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Turn the page to read the first chapter of Like The Wind>
First Chapter-Like The Wind
“I see you.”
The microphone amplified my voice as I lifted my arm high in the air and pointed to the furthest seat in the stadium. A frenzy of activity followed, culminating in giddy screams pinging off every surface.
Jumping up and down near the edge of the stage, an adolescent girl squealed, “See me, Bodhi! See me!” I tipped my head in her direction and smiled. Such a trivial gesture, yet enough interaction to turn the girl into a free-flowing sprinkler system.
My band mate, RJ, batted his own lovesick eyes at me before shimmying on up to my side with that snarky grin on his face.
Knowing his propensity for pantsing me on stage, I spun around in time to prevent his fingers from getting a hold of my waistband.
“See me, Bode-Hi,” he cooed, deliberately mispronouncing my name because, well, he apparently found it hilarious. It’s not like his name rolled off the tongue either - Renato Javier Salazar Contreras. Dammit, it actually did.
“Bo-dee,” I corrected for the hundredth time. “The H is silent, asshole.”
This little game of ours had been going on since he’d accidentally mangled my name the first day we met. Now he just said it wrong to piss me off. Pushing him away, I puckered my lips and sent him packing with an air kiss and the discreet extension of my middle finger. RJ’s eyes narrowed in on me. He’d been challenged and there was no doubt I’d be paying for it later. Every part of his body language screamed, ‘I’m going to pummel you.’ Had we not been on stage in front of a crowd of thousands, he probably would have jumped on my back and knocked my head into a wall or something equally over the top.
RJ was the youngest child of three sons and, as such, never let a diss go without swift, physical engagement. In contrast, I’d always been a more cerebral, calculated person. Making a sound decision took time and patience. Not so with RJ. There was no thinking in his ‘survival of the fittest’ world. He was all blustery reaction and you either rolled with the punches or hid in a maintenance closet until he’d safely passed.
I’ll admit, when I’d first met the dude, he’d taken some getting used to, and I’d done more hiding than rolling. Growing up an only child and never having gone to a traditional school, toys were my only playmates, and none of them ever beat the shit out of me.
But beatdowns and defensive training weren’t the only things my friend taught me. He’d also modeled for me what it was like to have siblings and, surprisingly, I loved the brutal inclusion. I could barely remember what life was like without RJ and his hyperactivity, but I’m sure it was unbelievably boring.
Both singled out as the fan favorites in a five-man boy band, there were a whole multitude of reasons for RJ and me to dislike each other, but somehow we’d risen above the petty jealousies that came along with preteen fangirls fainting at our feet.
Hunter, Shawn, and Dane rounded out our quintet. Together we made up the members of AnyDayNow, currently the most popular boy band in the industry. We were household names… as long as those households in question had girls under the age of fifteen living in them. Okay, so maybe we were bigger than I gave us credit for. After all, our mere presence in the tour cities prompted irritated locals to bitch about road closures, ear-splitting headaches, and Salem-witch-style hysteria.
As the fan cherished ‘hotties’ of the group, RJ and I were responsible for much of that delirium. The other guys were popular too, don’t get me wrong, it was just that they didn’t have as many bedroom shrines dedicated in their honor. And even though the two of us rose to heartthrob status at the exact same time, I’d learned to harness the awesome power, while RJ was still in the process of trying not to cut his arm off with the light saber.
The band’s handlers worked hard cultivating our images, although admittedly they had their hands full with RJ and Shawn, both of whom provided a steady stream of fodder for the tabloids. Me? I was on autopilot and always had been. The tale they’d spun for me from the very inception of the band had been elaborate in its details and carefully crafted throughout the years. I was the wholesome boy next door… or so it would seem. Given the fact I was a former child star who had lived most of my life out of a suitcase, portraying me as well-adjusted boyfriend material was a stretch by any means of the imagination. Not that I was a closet serial killer or anything, but I had issues that dated all the way back to my birth and no amount of whitewashing could wipe away the guilt that plagued me.
Still I was a competent enough actor to embody the character that had been created for me, and I played the part well. To all those sobbing little girls, Bodhi Beckett was da bomb. And really, who was I to burst their sheltered little bubbles? If they wanted to worship the ground I walked on, I was inclined to let them. After all, there were worse things in life than being adored. Besides, the fan devotion had made me a millionaire many times over and afforded me a lifestyle anyone would be envious of. As long as no one dug too deep into my personal life, I really was the perfect fantasy guy to bring home to mom and dad.
Sometimes I wished I were as fearless as RJ, who lived his life like he’d be trampled by a rhinoceros at any moment. I’d never been so carefree, not even when I was young, although it was up for debate whether I’d actually ever been a child. By the tender age of two, I was already supporting my family, although again, it was debatable whether my dad and I constituted a family. For all intents and purposes, he’d been more my manager than my father. Our dinner conversations were about business, not pleasure. The closest I’d ever come to a real family was playing the dutiful son on television.
Don’t believe me? I lost my virginity to a twenty-year-old prostitute my father had hired when I was seventeen. Not that I was aware she was a prostitute at the time. Apparently he felt I was taking too long to close the deal on my own, so he did what any responsible father would do – he found me a sure thing.
We’d met at a party and one thing led to another. Suddenly the pretty girl I’d been flirting with turned into a fucking porn star before my very eyes. It had never occurred to me at the time that she might actually be one. I just assumed I was a really good lover. But no. It was all smoke and mirrors leading to years of anxiety over my sexual partners not being who I thought they were. Thanks, dad, for the lifelong phobia. Way to parent!
Stellar moments like that peppered my childhood, closing me off to real, honest relationships, especially with women. I never knew who to trust so, as a general rule, I trusted no one. It was just easier being alone than finding out years later the woman I married was the star of ‘Debbie Does Dallas.’
It’s not that I was complaining… okay, maybe I was. Even though I’d lived my life in the spotlight, it had never really been by choice, and the older I got the more I wondered if this was truly the road I wanted to follow. I found myself looking forward to AnyDayNow’s inevitable demise. I mean, how long could a bunch of twenty something guys pretend to be bubble-gum chomping teenagers? Not that getting out of my commitments would be as easy as stepping off the beaten path and walking away. I was bound securely around the man who’d made me a star, my father, and cutting myself loose from him promised to be a bloody affair.
Maybe someday, long after the euphoria faded, I’d be one of those dreaded cautionary tales of the ‘former child star’ struggling to find his place in the world. God knows I’d be a prime candidate for self-destruction. But I thought more of myself than to become just some footnote in history. Damned if I would meet my end overdosed on some park bench.
When the time came, I’d bow out gracefully. No point in trying to hold onto a fame that didn’t want me anymore. Besides, it would give me the chance to live the quiet life that had always intrigued me. The idea of showing up at some dive bar with just my dependable guitar playing ‘poor me’ songs to a crowd of twelve hammered assholes was strangely appealing.
Shaking off the inevitable, I focused my attention back on task. I had a job to do. There were thousands of girls who had to fall hopelessly in love with me before the end of the show, and I aimed to please. Allowing the excitement to die down some before repeating my earlier words, I called out, “I see you - in Section H. Yes you… girl wearing the AnyDayNow t-shirt.”
Squeals erupted as every female in Section H wearing a t-shirt with our band logo on it assumed I was speaking directly to her.
“The guys and I, we can’t thank you enough for coming to see us. All of you are like our family and when you’re here, it feels like home.”
You could almost hear the hearts bursting throughout the arena… and RJ’s cynical gagging. Okay, it was a cheesy line. But this was a young crowd who hadn’t fully developed
the bullshit gene, so I could get away with sounding like Ferris Bueller here and no one would give a shit. Even if I might occasionally cringe at my own words, my audience gobbled it up like a bag of Sourpatch Kids.
I looked in the general direction of Section H, pretending I could see each and every person in it, though binoculars probably wouldn’t even do the job. These were the nosebleed seats, after all. But really, it didn’t matter whether I could see them or not. What mattered was every girl wearing one of our t-shirts and sitting in that unfortunate section truly believed I’d locked eyes on her for the briefest of moments. It was all about guiding the fans through a fantasy and making them feel like they’d made a special connection with their idol. Their parents paid good money for the privilege and I’d learned long ago never to bite the hand that feeds.
Unlike RJ, I respected our fans enough to give them a performance worthy of their devotion. Yes, they were young and loud and excitable, but they were also responsible for our meteoric rise to fame. If it weren’t for these girls and their moms, and the few courageous men and boys who braved the embarrassment of being seen at one of our concerts, we’d just be five guys standing on stage pretending to be something special while everyone else made fun of us.
At least now when we were ruthlessly mocked for being talentless wastes of space, we had a wad of cash in hand to make the poison go down easier. Would I like to be respected for something other than having nice hair? Sure. But that’s not how boy bands worked. It didn’t matter how many of our songs soared to the top of the music charts or how many shows we sold out, to our critics we’d always be dismissed as a manufactured group of minimally talented guys making a living off prepubescent fantasies. As long as we remained in the band, we’d never be taken seriously as artists, singers, and songwriters.
Five years ago, when we’d been handpicked for AnyDayNow, the distinction between performer and artist hadn’t bothered us. We were all teenagers, eager for success. Our goal back then had been simple – work hard, give the best performances possible, and ride the wave as far as it would take us. We’d accomplished all three objectives, and then some.
