The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  “I know, right?” I said.

  “He’s so good,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll be sorry to see him go.”

  “Chris is great, too,” I said.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Max said, looking over at me. “I want Chris back, too...I want it all, I guess,” he added with an uncharacteristic chuckle. I’d never seen Max so...unclenched.

  “I know,” I said. I wanted to tell him that he could end up with both Will and Chris in the band with him, but until Will decided he wanted to stick around, it felt wisest not to say anything about Nessa’s plan.

  As the song ended, Max and I applauded like crazy. I kept at it until my hands began to sting and Max even did a couple of wolf whistles, nearly shattering my eardrums. But I didn’t care—Will deserved it, especially if the plan didn’t work out and this truly was his sendoff. I wanted him to remember how amazing it was for him to be on stage, playing his grandfather’s song, giving him that fitting tribute.

  I expected Max to leave when Zen Garden started their set, but as I stood there, waiting for him to take off, he didn’t.

  Bending over to look through the viewfinder, I adjusted my camera unnecessarily and then straightened up, folding my arms over my chest. He stayed beside me.

  Why is he still here?

  What the hell, I thought, and turned to ask him if he was going to return to the bus with the other guys, but before I could, he said, “It was her birthday.”

  I stared at him for several long seconds as I wondered if he’d had a stroke or something because what he’d just said made no sense. “Huh? Whose birthday? What?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry. I...Marie’s birthday was the other day. That’s one of the reasons I was so messed up after I went home. I...” He went to rake his hand through his hair but the bill of his baseball cap got in the way, and he almost knocked it off. He muttered a curse and shoved his fists into the front pockets of his jeans.

  My heart ached for him just then, and the fixer in me desperately wished there was something she could do to ease his awkwardness. But the new me, the one that knew she couldn’t fix everything just stood there, forcing herself not to do anything, letting him work through it.

  “I guess I wanted you to know that.” He looked down and laughed humorlessly. “Though now I’m not sure why. That’s awkward.”

  He glanced up at me through his lashes and then looked away, blowing out a breath. Holy, and I thought I felt awkward, but he was taking it to a whole new level. So not rock star-ish.

  “Max...” I said. It felt like he’d just confided something really big and important to me, even though it was just about her birthday, which I could have found out if I’d Googled. But I needed to acknowledge that he went out of his way to make me understand. That he wanted me to understand. “Thank you for telling me.”

  He nodded and then glanced back toward the stage, though I didn’t think his eyes were tracking the concert. “I...it’s been tough, but...”

  “Of course it’s tough,” I said, placing my hand on his arm. His skin was smooth and warm under my palm, and it was weird to be touching him. We’d jostled around each other on the bus, but that was from lack of room and necessity, nothing on purpose. I pulled my hand away, feeling awkward. “At least you have something to keep you busy,” I said.

  “It would be way worse if I’d quit,” he admitted. “God, the reminders of her are everywhere at home. We grew up together, you know. We were neighbors, then best friends. First...” he trailed off and looked away again. I saw the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

  Glad he’d stopped himself, because I did not want to go down that road, I quickly said, “Did you go see her...her grave, I mean.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I was sorry. Why was I making it worse for him? And especially why now, when we were at a concert, what was supposed to be a good time, not a rehash of his horrible day at home.

  Although he didn’t seem really upset about it. Like, if I’d asked him these questions just a few days before, he probably would have torn me a new one and stormed off. But now, he just shook his head and answered my question.

  “No. She was cremated, so there’s no visiting her. I mean, her parents have her...” he sighed. “I wish I could have done something—she would have been turning eighteen. A big deal. And while we knew I’d be on tour, I’d hoped to fly her out to meet me in Minneapolis so she could have seen the band. And then we would have spent the day off together instead of me visiting my parents, wishing I was anywhere else. Wishing...” his voice trailed off.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, but he didn’t look at me, and I wasn’t sure he even heard me.

  “I guess I should have gone to see her family,” he went on. He didn’t even seem to be speaking to me as much as just speaking. “But I still can’t see them. It’s too hard.” He shrugged, and I knew if he’d bothered to go on, it would have been to say that he blamed himself or maybe that they blamed him, which was even worse.

  I grabbed his forearm again and gave it a quick squeeze. “You can’t, Max. It wasn’t your fault.”

  He nodded but looked unconvinced.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get to do something for her birthday.”

  He shrugged, his eyes not meeting mine, his casual gesture not fooling me. He hated that he hadn’t done anything for her birthday.

  I happened a glance up at the stage, thinking about how Will had done a tribute to his grandfather, which was really touching and so fitting. I didn’t think Max, who was so private, would want to sing a song in his girlfriend’s honor, but maybe...

  Looking around the festival, I found what I was looking for and turned to Randy. “Can you watch my camera for a few minutes?”

  He nodded and stepped closer as I reached for Max’s wrist. “Come with me,” I said before I lost my nerve.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, letting me tug him along, away from the stage.

  “Just come on,” I said. It was a dumb idea, but maybe it would be exactly what he needed to feel better about missing his girlfriend’s birthday.

  With Sprinkles on Top

  After the credit card disaster from that morning, I had stuffed some cash into my pants pocket just to have on hand for the day. As I led Max over to the food vendors, I was glad I had; the guys didn’t keep anything in their pockets while on stage, and while Max had changed his shirt, he still had on his performance jeans, so buying anything was completely on me.

  “Where are you taking me? What’s happening?” he asked, looking around, confused. A second later, I felt him stiffen under my grasp; he must have clued in as we approached a hot pink food truck that had a giant cupcake painted on the side. Not that it would take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

  “It’s a bit late,” I said, “but you can eat some cake and light a birthday candle for her.”

  Max worked his jaw and with his free hand—because I still had a grip on him, worried he was a flight risk—tugged his hat low over his eyes as he nodded.

  I knew then that I’d hit a nerve. Whether it was a good nerve or bad nerve was still to be seen.

  Please don’t cry, I told myself, worried that his emotions were going to trigger mine. I kept reminding myself that his grief was warranted, maybe even necessary, as he worked through this huge milestone—her first birthday since the accident that had taken Marie from him.

  That meant I needed to be strong, to help him get to the other side of this in one piece. I couldn’t fix him, but I could set the stage for him to work through it on his own.

  “What was her favorite flavor?” I asked, glancing at the blackboard mounted on the truck with the day’s flavors written on it in colored chalk. I quickly scanned the list but realized after a long moment that Max hadn’t answered me. “Max?”

  Staring at the truck, he blinked several times, his eyes shiny with tears as my heart broke for h
im. He took a staggered breath and said, while still not looking at me, “She had celiac—she couldn’t eat cake.”

  Are you freaking kidding me?

  I let go of his hand, resisting the urge to run because I felt like the biggest idiot on planet earth in that second. “Max, ugh, I’m so sorry. This was such a stupid idea, and I’m so...damn it all. I’m so sorry.”

  Still not looking at me, he shook his head. I knew just how much he must have hated my guts in that second because he’d totally let me humiliate myself with this ridiculous idea. He was probably enjoying how stupid and uncomfortable I was feeling.

  And to think I’d been so freaking proud of myself for coming up with the stupid little tribute to his dead girlfriend. Then I realized how childish and selfish I was being. Because his girlfriend was dead and he was really struggling.

  I wanted to smack myself. This is so not about you, Sandrine.

  “No,” he finally said, that one syllable feeling like a knife in my gut. I had just long enough to wonder what exactly he was saying no to before he looked over at me. Somehow, his eyes were surprisingly not filled with rage, but with a vulnerable sadness that made my heart lurch.

  “I mean, chocolate,” he said softly. “She loved chocolate.”

  I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes. “But...what? You just said...”

  “She wasn’t supposed to eat cake,” he said wryly. “It made her sick, but she loved it more than anything. So on her birthday, that’s what we did—we got chocolate cake. She said it was worth it that one time a year.”

  Oh good God. Was he serious with this? There was no way I could listen to that story and avoid an ugly cry. He was like a walking Lifetime movie. This is precisely why I love horror films, not sappy rom coms and Nicholas Sparks type movies.

  My throat closed up with emotion, and I looked away.

  “It’s like you knew,” he said, making it worse. “Did you know?”

  I turned my entire body away from him, shaking my head, words stuck in my throat.

  “Sandy?” He came around me, bending down so he could look up into my eyes. God, didn’t he get it?

  “No,” I said, turning in a circle away from him. Of anyone, I would expect him to understand that I needed some space right now.

  “Stop. Stop circling away from me.” He grabbed my arm and then moved in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place. “I’m getting dizzy,” he said with a chuckle. With a chuckle—who was this guy?

  “Did you know, Sandy?”

  “How could I?” I asked, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not psychic. And I doubt that detail is in your bio file on the bus.” In fact, I knew it wasn’t; I’d read his entire bio before I’d done the interviews with all the guys before tour started.

  “It just...I don’t know, it felt too perfect that you’d guess.”

  I risked looking up at him. “It was just a stupid idea to light a birthday candle for her. And have some cake. It’s a coincidence, Max. That’s all it was...”

  He seemed to accept that and nodded. “Okay. I...yeah, okay, I shouldn’t overthink it. Everyone loves cake. Let’s just go eat some.”

  “In her honor,” I added as we started back toward the truck and stood in line.

  As weird as it was and how awkward he’d made me feel about all of it, as we stood there next to each other, waiting our turn to order, I felt closer to him for us having shared this. Closer in a way that I never would have imagined getting with him. It was like we’d shared something big.

  And as we bumped our cupcakes together (without candles because the cupcake truck didn’t have any, but Max said it was fine), both with unshed tears in our eyes and Max said, “For Marie, on what would have been her eighteenth birthday,” I knew for a fact he also felt closer to me. Maybe closer to me than anyone else on the bus, because he’d never shared this kind of thing with any of them.

  Maybe even close enough to call me a friend.

  Or maybe that was too much to hope for.

  This Time with Flash

  It was a while later that we were all—the members of both Wiretap and Zen Garden, along with Tony, Billy, Nessa and I—in the hospitality suite at the hotel.

  We’d had some snacks, thanks to the nice little buffet table laid out along the far wall, but now that the Zen Garden guys had arrived, I was sitting on the couch with Ted (who was still wearing his cowboy hat, despite being indoors).

  Nessa had just gotten up with Eddie after she’d suggested they go ‘get some air’ which had me sort of panicking. And by sort of panicking, I mean totally and completely panicking.

  Because while I’d sort of pushed her toward Eddie, it had been a ruse. I’d been bluffing, trying to nudge her toward Will, the guy she should be with, not the lead singer of Zen Garden. Don’t get me wrong, Eddie was definitely make-out-worthy, but that’s not at all what my friend needed. At least not long term. And if she did use Eddie as a distraction or to cleanse her palate after the disaster with Andy, she risked ruining things with Will.

  And tonight was supposed to be the night that she hooked up with him, especially since, if things didn’t go our way, he’d be leaving tour very soon. She had to make it happen with him tonight, or she might miss her chance. And I really thought those two belonged together. I knew it, and Will knew it.

  What the hell, Vanessa? Why didn’t she know it? Get on board, already!

  Like, now. Because my method of making it happen was looking like it was about to backfire in my face.

  Spectacularly.

  I was just about to jump up and say something to keep Nessa from leaving with Eddie when Will returned to the room, sans parents.

  Whew. How’s that for some perfect timing? Thankfully, Nessa noticed him, too, and greeted him, flicking her eyes over his shoulder, likely asking where his parents were. I wasn’t close enough to hear, but it wasn’t hard to read their body language.

  “Sandy?” Ted said, his voice a bit impatient, which made me realize maybe he’d been talking to me while I’d been focused on Nessa and Will.

  “Hmm? Sorry?” I asked, turning toward him slightly, but keeping an eye on Nessa.

  “I asked if you want to get some air, too.” Ted, God bless his southern heart, asked at that moment, proving that he had no idea what I was trying to orchestrate. Maybe I should have filled him in on my little plan. Although maybe he should have filled me in on Nessa’s scheme that had involved Zen Garden.

  Whatever. No time for that now. I smiled at him. “In a couple of minutes, I just need to make sure...” I turned fully back toward Nessa, not wanting to miss her interaction with Will, not even a second of it. I had to resist clapping my hands when it became obvious she’d forgotten about Eddie who was drifting over to the food table after clearly realizing he’d been dismissed.

  Then, Nessa nodded as Will said something and the two of them went out the door, turning right toward the other meeting rooms, the ones that I happened to know were empty for the evening.

  That had to be a good sign. They’d seemed casual about it, and maybe he’d asked her to talk privately so he could thank her for bringing his parents, but I knew there would be more.

  YESSSSS! I wanted to yell and do fist-pumps, but I settled for turning toward Ted and giving him a really big smile. “Yeah, so I could use that air now,” I said. Now that all my plans are finally rolling along nicely.

  He popped up off the couch like it was on fire. It was funny, but very flattering at the same time, that he was so eager to go somewhere private with me. Though I shouldn’t have been too surprised that he was impatient to get me alone; this is what we’d been planning for the last however many days it had been.

  Though now that we were here, I had to admit, I was a little nervous; there had been a lot of buildup bringing us to this moment.

  What if it wasn’t what we’d both been building up in our minds? W
hat if he was a bad kisser? What if he thought I was? What if he suddenly wanted more from me than I could give? At this point, I couldn’t commit to a relationship any more than he could.

  Maybe this hookup was a bad idea. Because what if I started really falling for him?

  God knows, that would be inconvenient—we had this one night together and then would be parting ways on our respective tours for the rest of the summer. Well, for as long as I was on tour. Soon enough, Nessa and I were going back to the Hamptons, and Zen Garden was continuing on their festival and arena tour. Then, in the fall, they were going to tour Australia.

  Did I want to be Ted’s groupie long-distance girlfriend? Long distance things were hard enough, but with a rock star? Damn near impossible, I had to think. We both knew it, too.

  “Sandy?” Ted said, staring at me funny as I came back into my head and realized he was standing in front of me, waiting for me to get off the couch and join him.

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking off the cobwebs. “Long day.” It was the truth, and maybe I was more tired than I’d realized. I’d already learned there was no such thing as ‘well-rested’ on tour and these last few days had been killer, both emotionally and physically.

  As I stood, I glanced over and saw Tony in the corner of the room, talking to Billy. I didn’t want to be the subject of gossip, so I said, “I’ll meet you out there in five. Go through the lobby and out the front doors,” I suggested, knowing we wouldn’t be seen if we stayed to the other side of the hotel. “We’ll go where we can get some air.”

  And by ‘get some air’ I meant go make out like nobody’s business. Because in that moment, I realized there was no future for Ted and me, but we could make tonight count.

  He nodded and, without another word, left the room, turning in the opposite direction Nessa had gone once he got to the hallway. To provide myself some cover, I got up and went over to the snack table, reaching for a piece of cheese.

  I heard the rustle of someone approaching from the right. I looked up and nodded at Max as I returned my gaze to the cube of cheddar and plucked it off the platter. “Hey.”