Then, before I collapsed, I headed up to my room.
It had been a long day, and I realized as I undressed for the shower that I’d spent a lot of it on my feet. Though it would take longer, I decided to take a bath and let the hot water take care of my tired and achy muscles before I dropped into bed.
My phone was on the bathroom counter, but it buzzed just as I lifted a foot to step into the tub.
––––––––
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Today
Message: Thanks again for everything. ☺
Dave
I couldn’t help but smile at that. I put the phone within reach on top of the toilet lid as I got into the bath and then grabbed it once I was settled.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Today
Message: You’re welcome. You crushed it. That song you did at the end was killer and I bet Tony’s going to want add it to the set. Do you feel like a rock star now?
V.
I let myself slide down in the water, thinking as I did, that emailing with Dave was probably a good thing and would keep me awake. Drowning in the tub from exhaustion was a stupid way to die, even by rock star standards.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: Today
Message: Maybe a little. Okay, a lot. :P It was a total rush. And thanks—that song isn’t completely finished, but it felt good to play it.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: Today
Message: Told you you’d love playing. Don’t let it go to your head.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: My GIANT HEAD
Message: J/K. :P
Your dad says he wants to tell everyone who I am. Use it in the press.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: YOUR GIANT HEAD
Message: is up your butt. Also j/k.
So what do you think of him doing that?
I put down the phone and slid under the water, combing my fingers through my hair, surprised at just how long it was. I was due for a cut; maybe Kiki would take pity on me when I saw her again. If she wasn’t too busy with the guys, of course.
By the time I’d washed and conditioned my hair, another message was waiting for me.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: YOUR GIANT HEAD
Message: Not sure. I really need to talk to my parents. I wish they’d come this weekend—they could have met Tony.
And seen you play, I thought as I read his last message. Maybe they were out of the country or something.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: YOUR GIANT HEAD
Message: Didn’t they want to see you play?
I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around my body and another around my hair. I glanced down at the hair dryer but decided I couldn’t be bothered. Tomorrow was Sunday, so it didn’t matter if I had crazy hair when I woke up, so I towel-dried as best I could and grabbed another dry towel off the stack to drape over my pillow before I left the bathroom.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: YOUR GIANT HEAD
Message: I didn’t tell them about the gig. My mom’s going to be pissed no matter what and I need to figure out how to tell her. I’m 18, so while she can’t stop me legally, she’s going to lose her mind about me going on tour, not to mention people finding out about my connection to my grandfather.
I pulled a nightgown—actually, an extra-large old band t-shirt left over from a tour Dad worked on—over my head before sliding between the sheets, lying on my back so I could easily email him back.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: re: YOUR GIANT HEAD
Message: Does she have any idea just how good you are?
I paused before I sent the message because my first instinct was to not feed musicians’ egos, but somehow I got the feeling Dave would always stay down to earth. He was confident about his skills, but it didn’t seem like it defined him or made him feel like he was entitled to rock star status and all the stuff that came with it.
Andres could use to take a page out of his playbook, I thought with a snort as I hit send.
I hadn’t realized I had dozed off until the phone on my chest buzzed and scared the bejeezus out of me.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: YOUR GIANT HEAD
Message: Actually, no.
She doesn’t know how much I play at all—it’s always been something of a sore spot with her, as you can imagine. But I think I will talk to your dad about getting in touch with them. That would go a long way toward reassuring them that I’m not going to end up like my grandfather did. Anyway, I’m bagged so I’m going to take MY GIANT HEAD to bed. You should probably do the same. Talk to you tomorrow.
Thanks again for everything
Dave
I smiled at the phone and sent him a sleepy emoji back before I turned off the phone and rolled over.
Ghosts Don’t E-mail
Now that the end of year party was out of the way, the business of finishing the school year was upon us. Everyone started to buckle down and study for finals. Well, everyone except Sandy who couldn’t seem to focus on anything beyond Wiretap. That included playing their music over and over (I secretly suspected she wanted to be the first fan to know every word to every one of their songs—a distinct possibility since their album hadn’t even released yet) and stockpiling vlogs that she would begin to release while we were in New York getting ready for tour.
I admired her commitment to the project, but I was getting tired of hearing about Wiretap twenty-four-seven. Especially when eighty percent of that included her thinly-veiled focus on Dave. How good Dave would sound playing that track. How Dave should get to add his song to the playlist. What did I think would happen to Dave when Chris got better?
Sigh.
As much as I loved her, I needed to do well on exams, and it quickly became evident that us studying together was a disaster. Even after my begging and pleading, she would manage to study for maybe five minutes before she would start talking about the band or put down her textbook to look at the band’s promo video again. For the sake of our friendship and my own sanity, I had to escape to the library to study.
At least she’d never broached the subject of me going on tour again.
So while the subject of Wiretap was sort of always simmering in the background, at the times I was away from my roommate and focused on schoolwork, it wasn’t right in my face.
Until the night before my physics exam when I got a message from Dave. I was in the lounge on my dorm floor, zoning out with my headphones on, almost falling asleep with my face in my textbook. I was probably done studying but was still a bit anxious that I wasn’t a hundred percent on the materials and was forcing myself to go through it one more time. Not all that successfully, but I still had a shred of hope.
To: vanessa.capri@the-rosewood-academy.
com
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hi
Message: How’s it going?
So that was random. I glanced up at the clock. It was barely nine pm, but I’d been studying for more hours than I cared to count, taking a break only for the bathroom and to eat a half can of sour cream and onion Pringles. As I broke concentration to send him a reply, I realized just how stiff and sore I was. I put the phone down on top of my book and took a moment for a long stretch, yawning and reaching my arms up and extending them until I felt a satisfying and slightly alarming crunching in my shoulders.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: Hi
Message: okay. Just studying. What’s up?
As I waited for his response, I closed up my books recognizing that there was no more room in my brain; at this point, I either knew it, or I didn’t.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: Hi
Message: Can I call you?
The lounge wasn’t overflowing with girls, but there were people in there studying, and I didn’t want to talk on the phone and disturb them.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: re: re: Hi
Message: Give me 10?
Sandy was down the hall in Angie’s room, studying biology (actually, probably pretending to study biology), but she could be back any minute, and I didn’t want to have to explain who I was on the phone with. So nine minutes after the last message to Dave, I was in my dorm room’s bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet lid, running the water for a bath, when my phone rang.
I forced myself to let it ring two and a half times before I answered.
“Hey,” he said.
“Everything okay?” I asked, worried.
He sighed, telling me my instincts that something was up were right on. “Yeah, I guess. Tony said he was going to call my parents tonight, and I haven’t heard from any of them yet. I’m a little nervous that it’s going badly.”
With exams and studying I’d sort of lost track of what was going on and had actually forgotten that Dave hadn’t yet officially signed on.
“Right,” I said. “So if they totally freak out are you not going to do it?”
He paused for half a second. “I’m not sure. I...I don’t want to hurt my mom at all, but...” He didn’t finish his thought.
“What?” I asked.
“How is it that something I didn’t want a few weeks ago is now like the most important thing in my life?”
“Maybe it’s not that you didn’t want it,” I suggested as I leaned over and turned off the taps. “Maybe it’s that you’d just really successfully convinced yourself that you didn’t want it. You probably always wanted it, but held yourself back.”
There was a long pause before he spoke. “Huh. You’re probably right.”
“I’m always right,” I said with a smile.
He snorted. “And modest, obviously.”
“Clearly.”
“It’s just...” he sighed again. “I don’t want to upset my mom, but I really want this. I guess maybe I didn’t realize how much until tonight when so much hinges on a phone call.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “My dad has done this before, and he’s going to reassure them you’re in good hands. I mean, obviously you’re not a kid who needs babysitting and you’re legal to do this on your own, but he’ll make sure they understand how serious he is about doing this the right way. He’s in this to make stars, not ruin lives by letting you and the guys turn into useless junkies whose only reason for being is to make rehab centers rich.”
He was quiet, weirdly quiet, like he was holding his breath and I realized my faux pas. I cursed and then said, “Dave. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean about your grandfather...”
“No, I know you didn’t, but that’s exactly what happened to him. At least until he got cleaned up. But that your dad is so against that lifestyle will go a long way with my parents—my mom especially. But...”
“What?” I prodded when he didn’t go on. I left the bathroom to get undressed, but as I waited for him to continue, I sat down on my bed.
“You obviously have history with musicians. What you just said and also how you’re so against being around them. I’m guessing this is personal for you. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said, automatically and maybe too quickly.
“Vanessa?”
I instantly got my back up. “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He took a long breath and then when he spoke, there was a note of hurt in his voice. “I told you about my grandfather. No one else knows about that. Not my roommate or even Emmie, who I dated.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not dating, and we’re definitely not roommates. And I never made a deal with you about trading secrets.”
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?”
“Why do you have to be so persistent?”
He laughed then. “I thought you’d respect someone being persistent. Isn’t that sort of your M.O.? Wasn’t that you who badgered me to audition for the band?”
I was having trouble being as amused as he seemed to be. “I never forced you to spill any secrets,” I said indignantly.
“No. I guess that’s true,” he said, his voice suddenly softer, gentle. “I just...we’re friends, aren’t we? You can trust me.”
“It’s not about trust,” I squeaked out. Tears pricked at my eyes and my throat got tight as I thought about my mother. If this had been a movie of the week, the camera would sweep over to my nightstand where I kept a picture of her. The mother I missed terribly since her tragic death. I’d pick up the picture and maybe trace her face with my finger, overcome by my grief.
Except that this wasn’t a movie, there was no picture, her death had been stupid and reckless, and I didn’t miss her terribly. In fact, I still hated her for it.
“I can’t,” I said, my voice little more than a croak.
“Vanessa?” he said, sounding surprised that I was on the verge of tears. Hell, I was surprised.
“I can’t,” I repeated. “I’ve gotta go.”
And then I hung up the phone. I turned the ringer off and put it face-down on my nightstand, leaving it there so I could go drown my sorrows in a hot bath.
After my bath, I was even more exhausted and didn’t want to ruin its calming effects, so I didn’t look at my phone again until the next morning when I took it with me into the bathroom, so as not to disturb Sandy, who was still sleeping.
I closed the door softly behind me and opened up my locked screen. Not surprisingly, Dave had called right after I’d hung up on him. When I didn’t answer, he sent me three messages, two from the night before and one from about ten minutes before I woke up.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Sorry
Message: The last thing I meant to do was upset you.
Forgive me?
Dave
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: you HAVE to forgive me
Message: Since I’m definitely joining the band now. All is good with my parents—Tony is a miracle worker.
I’m still really sorry about earlier.
Don’t hate me, okay?
D.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: are you dead?
Message: It’s kind of bugging me that you haven�
�t responded yet. I sincerely hope you’re not dead. Let me know either way. :P
I rolled my eyes at that last one, the edges worn off my anger. In fact, I wasn’t mad at him at all; it was me that I was angry with for not being over the whole thing with my mother. For letting it still affect me. For not being able to even talk about it.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: boo!
Message: Not dead. Happy you’re all set to join the band. Must go—physics exam this a.m.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: boo!
Message: Glad to hear it. Thanks. Good luck.
See you in NYC
D.
New York State of Mind
Exams finished, bags packed, friends hugged, Sandy and I left Rosewood and made our way to New York. Gary was right on schedule and picked us up just after lunch on the Friday (Sandy’s last exam was that morning) and after he piled all our stuff in the trunk and we hit a Starbucks drive-through, we got on the road toward Manhattan
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 13
