And then she was gone.
I had never been so excited to go to a dance, and it wasn’t because I’d get to socialize with boys. Well, just one boy, but not for socialization; I was going to see Dave and to tell him that my dad wanted him to come to Manhattan for an audition. He still needed two members for Wiretap—his new boy band—and Dave would be perfect.
A bunch of us went down early to await the Westwood buses: a favorite Rosewood girls’ pastime. Sandy must have noticed me glancing at the clock on the wall for like the thousandth time.
“They’ll be here soon,” she said. “I’ve never seen you so anxious. Why are you so amped up?”
I shook my head and laughed—at myself mostly. “I don’t know. I hate all this, but I can’t help but be excited knowing I’m going to help make his dreams come true.”
She smiled. “I get that. Maybe he’ll be grateful. Really grateful.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that.”
“Just think,” she said, as though she hadn’t even heard me. “You’ll get all the credit for making him famous. You’ll have to fight off all the fangirls and groupies.”
I was about to protest that I wouldn’t be fighting off anything, when the gym erupted into a roar at the Westwood boys’ arrival. I practically held my breath, watching for Dave to come in.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long. I noticed him right away as he came in with a bunch of guys who were laughing and chatting around him, making their way toward a group of girls that I recognized as Seychelles Spencer, Brooklyn Prescott, and their friends. I knew Brooklyn from the stables—she was on the dressage team (somehow—she was really not a good rider) and had a huge crush on our former coach, which was probably why she was even on the team. Though he’d been off since hurting himself before Christmas and inexplicably she’d stayed.
I hardly had time to wonder if she was dating one of these guys and didn’t really care besides—I wanted to get to Dave first.
Taking a breath, I took several steps until I blocked his trajectory, causing him to almost bash into me.
“Hey,” I said.
He lurched to a stop and looked around in surprise before eyeing me, obviously confused. “Uh, hi?”
“Can we talk for a few minutes?” I asked, unable to stop the stupid grin on my face.
He frowned and looked over my shoulder toward where his friends had joined the girls, and I was sure he must have thought I was crazy and wondering just who the hell I was.
“Just a couple of minutes,” I assured him. “You’re going to like it, I promise.”
Boy, was I wrong.
“What do you mean?” my dad said on the phone a half hour later.
I’d been so shocked at what Dave had said that I’d left the dance and returned to my dorm to call my dad right away. Now it was his turn to be flabbergasted.
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see through the phone. “He said he’s not interested.”
“Because of school? Did you tell him we’re not starting up the tour until the summer, and we’re going to only do intensive weekend rehearsals until then?”
“He wouldn’t say why, but yes, I told him that.”
“He knows it’s a paid gig, right? Not an internship...”
“Yes, Dad,” I sighed. “But remember, he probably comes from money, so it’s not about that.”
“Huh,” Dad said, obviously having trouble accepting that someone wasn’t interested in being rich and famous. Dad was usually the one turning people down, not the other way around. “Did you give him my number? Maybe I can talk to him.”
I thought back to those awkward moments in the gym when I’d tried to force my dad’s card into Dave's hand, but he’d refused to take it. The card had ended up on the floor, and I’d had to scramble to pick it up as he tried to walk away from me. Well, no, he didn’t try, he did walk away from me. Rather rudely.
Musicians.
“I’ll keep at him,” I promised, though I wasn’t sure what good it would do. He’d seemed adamant that he wasn’t interested and almost seemed disgusted at the concept. Sure, boy bands weren’t exactly everyone’s idea of serious music, but it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience and could totally springboard his career. Plus, my father was committed to making sure these guys weren’t just fluffy eye candy—he wanted real musicians.
Dad sighed. “Don’t push too hard. If he’s not into it, we can’t force him. The last thing I need is someone walking out halfway through a tour because he never wanted to be there in the first place. But after you were so sure...” he trailed off, clearly disappointed.
“I know, Dad,” I said with a sigh. “I’m so sorry. I never would have guessed he wasn’t into it.”
“It’s all right, kiddo,” Dad said. “I have some auditions lined up for this week.”
“That’s great!” I said, hopeful that he’d find someone as good as Dave. Or that Dave would come around.
“Yeah,” he said. “Graeme and Darren are really shaping up, and I’ve just signed a bass player. Now if we could only find a couple of guitars we’d be all set.”
“Do you really need two guitars?” I asked.
“The magic number for the band is five.”
“Right,” I said with a chuckle. “The boy band formula.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. That formula is going to pay for your cushy summer in the Hamptons.”
“I’m not knocking it, Dad,” I said, laughing. “And believe me, I am going to appreciate that summer if it ever gets here.” I glanced up at the window, and like I’d cued Mother Nature, it was snowing again.
“Unless you’d rather work for me again this summer.”
“Nice try,” I said, not even bothering to pretend to consider it. While I’d worked for my dad the summer before, he had been between projects and was just starting to do the preliminary work for Wiretap, so while it was busy, it wasn’t insane busy, and it was office work and a few festival gigs, not studio work. But this summer was going to be crazy and filled with the drama of going on tour with five guys who, let’s face it, were probably just as interested in hooking up with groupies as they were in playing music. Like I needed that in my life.
No thanks. And anyway, Sandy was going to be spending the summer with me since her parents did the Europe thing and she wasn’t into it. We already had it all worked out, right down to the several days a week I was going to ride at the stables down the road from our summer house.
“Worth a shot,” he said, resigned. “Good thing I’ve got Linda on the payroll. All right, I’d better go back to reviewing more demos. When will I see you?”
I’d only just gotten back to school after Christmas break, but while he tried not to be needy, it was just me and him that made up our little family of two, so I got that he missed me while I was at school. I knew he would have preferred me to go to a school in Manhattan, but Rosewood had been the best way for me to get a good education while he was off on tour. That way he didn’t have to worry about me and I didn’t have to live out of a suitcase and get educated by tutors.
Not to mention that I loved Rosewood and had made a lot of friends here, got to ride almost daily, and most importantly? As a boarding school with only girls and limited events with the Westwood boys from down the road, my life was uncomplicated and musician-free. Until now, of course, although that was obviously not going to be an issue.
“Spring break,” I said.
“Great. I should have the band together and rehearsing by then.”
I fought the urge to sigh, sort of hating that he was depending on me to judge the band’s appeal to teen girls—he forgot I was jaded by the industry and wasn’t a typical fangirl. Well, in fairness, he didn’t know the whole story of why I was so jaded, though I wasn’t about to fill him in on any of what he didn’t already know.
Some things you don’
t share with your dad.
“Maybe I’ll bring Sandy,” I said, knowing she would love the experience. She wouldn’t have to fake her enthusiasm over watching the band rehearse.
“Sounds good,” Dad said. “Let me know if your friend changes his mind.”
I seriously doubted it, and he was hardly my friend. But I promised I would.
Email
January 25
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Checking in
Message: Hi Dave, just thought I’d check in to see if you’ve given any more thought to what we talked about at the dance. It would be a great opportunity and my dad would be really open to you contributing your own songs. Have I mentioned how awesome I thought your performance was at the talent show?
Vanessa
January 27
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Checking in
Message: No thanks.
––––––––
So not only did it take him two days to respond, but all I got were two words? I suppose I should have felt honored that one of those words was a ‘thanks,’ but no, not really. I probably shouldn’t have written him back, but I was procrastinating doing a history paper and had no one around to talk me out of it.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: Checking in
Message: Seriously? You don’t want to be rich and famous?
At least that got me a response right away.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: Checking in
Message: Nope.
––––––––
Now we were down to ONE word replies? I tried to push away my frustration, knowing that wouldn’t help at all—getting angry at him wasn’t going to entice him to get on board. Maybe I needed to try a different strategy.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: re: Checking in
Message: You know, along with fame comes groupies and fangirls. Lots of them.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: NOT INTERESTED
Message:
––––––––
So that was pretty clear.
No Love Lost
February 13
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Sorry!
Message: Hi, okay, so it was kind of crazy to chase you at the Valentine’s dance, and I’m sorry for following you into the boys’ bathroom, but you could have listened to me for two seconds! I just wanted to let you know that my dad is still looking for another guitar player for his band. All the other members have signed up and they’re great guys—I know you’d get along really well with them! He’d love to meet you and would be happy to put you up in Manhattan for an all-expenses-paid weekend. FREE weekend in NYC with no obligation! Just think about it.
Vanessa
I didn’t get the response until three days later this time:
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Sorry!
Message: Still not interested.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: Sorry!
Message: Can’t blame a girl for trying. ;)
Vanessa
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: Sorry!
Message: I grudgingly respect your persistence. I hope your father is paying you well to incessantly badger me.
p.s. In case it’s not clear, I’m still not interested.
For some reason, that made me smile, the part about respecting me, at least.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: re: Sorry!
Message: He isn’t paying me. If he was, he’d probably demand a refund since I’m obviously failing at my job.
Vanessa
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: Sorry!
Message: Not for lack of trying. You put up a good fight.
p.s. but I will never be interested.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: re: Sorry!
Message: Will you at least tell me why?
Vanessa
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: Sorry!
Message: No. It’s personal.
While it stung a little, it’s not like I could argue with that. And if I’d learned anything about him, it was that he was not the kind of guy who could be persuaded into anything, no matter how much begging, nagging, and cajoling I did.
With a sigh, I closed my laptop.
Too Far?
––––––––
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Stalking
Message: FYI, while I suppose I have to admire your persistence, getting my roommate to badger me on your behalf is beneath you. Also: ineffective and annoying. Please cease and desist.
Tears sprung to my eyes. Was he joking or was he really mad?
I had known talking to Jared Abramovich—Abe as everyone called him—when I saw him downstairs with Seychelles, was a long shot and probably cheap, but I was getting desperate. Plus Abe had seemed to think Dave would be into the whole music scene. He’d been surprised when I’d told him how many times his roommate had blown me off. Actually, he was really surprised that he’d blown me off at all.
He hadn’t seen Dave’s performance at the talent show after what had happened to Seychelles during his act, but knew firsthand that Dave was an excellent musician. He’d even told me that he’d noticed Dave practicing more lately. Which had given me hope.
False hope, obviously.
I was about to hit reply when another message came in:
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Stalking
Message: By the way, by cease and desist, I just meant it didn’t work to convince me. I’m not going to send my lawyer after you or anything. Although if you call my parents to get them to work on me, I just might.
Dave
I blew out a loud, relieved breath. Maybe he was frustrated, but he didn’t sound really mad. Still, I didn’t like that I was obviously getting on his nerves. Time to backpedal a bit. Or at least stop nagging.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Stalking
Message: Deal.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: Stalking
Message: That almost felt t
oo easy. Don’t tell me you’re afraid? Of what? Lawyers? Or me.
Dave
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: Stalking
Message: YOU are terrifying.
But then right on the heels of that message, before he could even think to respond, I sent:
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: Stalking
Message: j/k. My dad needs all the guys ready to start recording in a couple of weeks, so this was my last ditch effort to get you on board. I’ll stop badgering you now. You’re done with me for good.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 2
