And anyway, I needed to do the responsible thing because this was bigger than just the snit between Max and me—this now involved the entire band. If I ever wanted a career in the music industry, I needed to be mature about how I handled crap like this.
I grabbed his phone out of his hand and marched toward the back of the bus, hating that I now had to explain to Tony how a crazy fan had stolen my phone out of my pocket to hack the band.
In the War Room
I only had a few steps to prepare what I was going to say to Tony. Which meant by the time I dropped into the seat across from him as Kiki slid over to make room, I wasn’t exactly prepared.
“We have a problem,” I blurted out, which, in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best way to open, but like I said, I had a matter of feet to prepare. I knew it was more important that I tell him right away than take the time to finesse the words.
He lifted his eyebrows in question.
My heart sank; I hated being the one to have to tell him bad news. Even more, I hated that it was my fault. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him or give him any reason to wish he’d never brought me along, but there was no getting around it—not telling him wasn’t an option.
I got as far as saying, “Back at the hotel, I was in the bathroom...” when Nessa joined us and motioned for Tony to move over so she could sit down across from me.
“I just told all the guys to change their social media passwords,” she said and then gestured for me to continue.
“Thank you,” I said, giving her a grateful look. I should have thought to do that, but I had been focused on telling Tony right away. Good thing she was so smart and had my back.
“So tell us what happened,” Tony said.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I began to relay the story about the slightly weird super fan I’d met in the washroom. I told them about how close she’d gotten by the door—that’s when she must have grabbed my phone. “Of course I have all the guys’ social media accounts and passwords loaded—that’s why Max assumed it was me who did that post from his account, the one that tipped us off.”
Tony frowned and glanced up toward the front of the bus.
“We set him straight,” Nessa said quickly, leaning back and crossing her arms, clearly still pissed I’d been wrongly accused. It was just one of the many things I loved about her. “He jumped to conclusions. The wrong conclusions.”
“Obviously I didn’t post it,” I said looking down at my hands fidgeting on the table. “But it was my fault that it happened. I should have been more careful with my phone.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Tony said, reaching across the table to put a hand on my forearm. “She sounds like a pro. Many years ago, I was the victim of pickpockets on the street in Barcelona. It wasn’t until hours later when I went to pay for a meal that I even realized my wallet was gone. They had distracted me—one looked like a tourist asking for directions, while the other easily slid my wallet from my pocket. They can be so sophisticated with their distractions—you’re not to blame for someone else’s criminal behavior.”
He was trying to make me feel better, but I couldn’t shake the guilt.
Kiki said, “Do you think she stole your passwords or did she do it right from your phone?”
Good question. I hadn’t even looked, becoming so focused on both saying goodbye to Ted and getting the video cut so I could go to bed, that I hadn’t even glanced at my phone, even when I’d first gotten it back.
Ugh.
“I don’t know,” I said, pulling it out and opening up the different social media apps. “I’m going to have to look at it more closely and change all the passwords and everything. But looking quickly...it seems like she just posted as Max. There’s nothing else new that’s gone out since my last post.”
“I still don’t like it,” Tony said. “She could have access to anything now.”
My breath caught in my throat, but I managed to squeak out, “I’m so sorry. I...”
“Don’t,” Tony said, cutting me off. “If she hadn’t stolen your phone, she would have found another way. This is not on you, Sandy.”
“Why didn’t she keep your phone, though?” Nessa asked. “Why would she turn it in?”
“Who knows,” Kiki said. “Based on what she posted, it was either a prank, or she’s an overzealous fan with no boundaries. You can’t know what she was thinking—not worth trying because you’ll never figure it out. Some crazy fans are just that: crazy.”
“Wait,” Nessa said, looking at me. “Is this the fan from before? The one you thought seemed off? The one who kept posting about mostly Max?”
I stared at my best friend as it sunk in what she was asking. Then I pulled up a search and, sure enough, there she was. Her profile picture was tiny, but I recognized her definitively as the girl from the bathroom.
“Yeah, that’s her,” I said, scanning her profile. “But...what the hell?” I looked up at Tony and then back down at her profile. “She’s not even from Portland. It says on her profile that she’s from Cleveland.”
I opened up her feed, seeing picture after picture of Max. And they weren’t just from one concert, either. I realized, now that I was really paying attention, that she had pictures from every concert since the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
I looked up at Tony. “I think she might be following us. She’s a hard-core groupie.”
Kiki shook her head. “If she’s stealing your phone so she can post as Max, she’s not a groupie, she’s a stalker. There’s a difference.”
“Isn’t it illegal?” Nessa asked, looking at her dad. “Should we be getting the police involved?”
Tony sighed. “It would be hard to prove that she stole your phone and why. You have it back, and you didn’t catch her taking it from you—the best we can do is assume it was her. But I’m not taking any chances—behavior like this can escalate. Quickly.”
“What are you going to do?” Nessa asked.
“We’ll document what she’s done, and we’ll keep screen shots of her social media feed as evidence.” He nodded at me, which I interpreted as him asking me to take care of that.
“On it,” I said.
He went on, “I didn’t want to have to, but I’m going to bring a security team in. For all the guys. I don’t want anyone vulnerable. And I want them focused on the music, not worrying about who’s following them or watching with intent. That goes for all of you, too,” he said, looking at Nessa, Kiki, and me pointedly. “I will not compromise anyone’s safety.
I shivered at the thought of being followed by crazed fans. While the guys might not like having a security detail, it made sense for them to get bodyguards and, unfortunately, it was pretty common in the industry as musicians got bigger and bigger.
“Is Max in his bunk?” Tony asked.
I opened my mouth to say yes when there was a rustle and the soft thud of feet hitting the floor. “I’m here,” Max said as he closed the small gap between his bunk and the office, appearing in the doorway in his flannel pants and gray t-shirt, hair rumpled.
Tony smirked. “Does this mean you heard everything?”
Max shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“Was this girl at any of the events that you remember?” Tony asked. “Did she approach you?”
I held his phone up toward him so he could see her picture.
“Believe me,” he said, not taking the phone and actually looking away from the screen. “I’ve looked at that picture plenty. And the answer is no. I don’t recognize her, and she didn’t approach me. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t at one of the meet and greet events, but she doesn’t stand out to me. Ask the other guys, though.”
“She seems to be stuck on you,“ I said.
“Doesn’t mean she didn’t talk to the others,” Nessa said. “Her feed started with all the guys before she zeroed in on Max.”
“Good
point,” I conceded.
“We should debrief everyone,” Tony said with a sigh. Since it was nearly two in the morning and we’d all had a long day, it wasn’t a surprise that he was basically drooping, his back hunched like his spine just couldn’t hold him up anymore.
“Let’s do it in the morning,” I said. And then, when Tony’s eyebrows went up, added, with an apologetic smile, “Not that I’m telling you what to do. But you’re exhausted, everyone’s exhausted. I can go make sure everyone updates their passwords tonight, as Nessa told them to because that is a priority but the rest can wait for the morning.”
“She’s right,” Kiki said. “There isn’t much you can do tonight anyway. Why don’t you just send Linda an email and get her to connect with James at the security firm first thing tomorrow? She can handle the logistics. With there not being a gig tomorrow—” she glanced up at the clock on the wall and shook her head. “...sorry, today, that gives plenty of time for a team to meet us at the venue in San Francisco.”
“You’re right.” Tony waved toward his laptop which Nessa grabbed and slid across the table toward him. “Nessa, you go make sure the boys understand the importance of changing all their passwords tonight. Sandy, you make sure they’re changed for all the general accounts, and then all of you get some rest. We’ll return to this after everyone’s had a good night’s sleep. Sound good?”
It did. As good as damage control could sound, that is.
All-Nighter
That ‘good night’s sleep’ didn’t happen. After the meeting in the back lounge disbanded, I returned to my laptop and changed all my passwords there. Then I went to add more security measures to my phone when I saw some texts from an unknown number.
I instantly presumed they were from the crazed fan, who I now knew as Laura Bishop, but then I realized they couldn’t have been from her—they’d been coming in all night, from before she had my phone to after I’d gotten it back. There was no way she would have had my number before she’d swiped my cell.
As I started reading from the top, where the messages began earlier the day before, I first thought that maybe whoever it was had the wrong number:
I need to talk to you. Right away.
Text me back immediately.
where are you? Need to talk.
And so on, getting more and more urgent. I was about to delete them all, but then as I got near the most recent ones at the bottom, I saw:
Sandrine, this is dad. Maybe you are ignoring bc you don’t recognize the number. Need to speak with you. Text me immediately so we can arrange a call.
Damn.
Looking at the time on my phone, even with a bleary brain, I quickly did the math and figured it was mid-morning in Switzerland. Not that it mattered, since he was obviously desperate to talk to me and it wouldn’t matter what time it was. Except, what would he be desperate to talk to me about?
Sorry, Dad, been a long day. Just saw this now. What’s up?
It wasn’t like him to seem desperate—The Maytag Man was ever-chill, so something was definitely going on. I stared at the screen, sure I would get an immediate reply.
I didn’t. Not a few minutes later, either. I tried my stepmother, but got no response from her, either. Not really a surprise, since she was probably in a sensory deprivation tank, or in the middle of a Himalayan mud wrap, or something equally bougie, but it would be nice if someone would let me know what was going on.
I was about to call my grandmother to see if she’d heard anything, but it was way too early to bug her yet, and I didn’t want to sound an alarm for what was surely no reason. I’d give my parents a few more hours to be responsible guardians. Anyway, if someone was dead or dismembered, someone would have called and left a message, not just a bunch of cryptic texts.
I made sure my ringer was set to vibrate on the table and then looked around the empty bus. It was probably time to go to bed. Everyone else had, leaving me on my own up front, save for Gary at the wheel, obviously.
But while I was tired—exhausted, really—my brain wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet. It wanted to replay the entire day’s events, from the amazing concert and how I’d connected with Max over cupcakes, to the time spent with Ted, and then all the drama that came after.
What a roller coaster of emotions I’d been on in only the past day. No wonder my nerves felt like they’d been through the ringer.
To try to decompress, I cut more tape and scheduled some social media posts that had been pre-approved by Tony (with everything going on, we were being extra cautious with the social media, but didn’t want to go dark, either—the band had really started to build a following, and we did not want to break that momentum) and did some hashtag and specific searches, making sure there wasn’t any more social media drama coming our way.
Max’s stalker hadn’t caused more trouble, thankfully. I was reluctant to call it a win since she was probably asleep—who knew what she might get up to come morning.
By the time I closed my laptop and stretched, rolling out my shoulders, the horizon was lightening. I hadn’t meant to pull an all-nighter, but with us having the day off ahead, I could catch up on my sleep.
We had a loose schedule that would start with us rolling into an RV park in Redding, California mid-morning so Gary could sleep. The park had great amenities where the guys could grab showers, do some laundry, or just chill by the pool. With Gary sleeping on the bus, they’d be respectful and stay away, so I could piggyback on that and get some much-needed sleep myself.
I stowed my laptop and tucked my phone into my pocket before I poured a big glass of water from the fridge and walked it up front. “Here you go, Gary,” I said, swapping out his empty coffee mug for the water. “You look thirsty."
He glanced over at me and smiled. “You still up?”
I shrugged at the rhetorical question and then dropped into the captain’s seat beside his, putting the mug into the other cup holder. “My brain doesn’t subscribe to that whole reasonable waking hours thing.”
“I know the feeling. Which is why this job is perfect for me,” he said and then added, “Maybe someday you can drive a tour bus.”
“Unlikely,” I said with a laugh, unable to imagine myself driving around a bunch of musicians—not that I wouldn’t like the driving and being up all night part, but I’d suffer some serious missing out syndrome being stuck up front. I had no desire to be in the band, but being band-adjacent was my favorite thing and Gary, while obviously an important member of the crew, wasn’t one of the core team who got to actually hang out with them much.
“So,” I said, looking out the front windshield, not sure how Gary stayed awake these long nights with nothing but a boring road ahead of him. “You could probably tell some crazy band stories, huh?”
Gary didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he did snort. “I could. Several books worth. Well, some of them I couldn’t tell because I had to sign NDA agreements, but yeah, I’ve seen a lot.”
Oh really. I didn’t realize bus drivers had to sign paperwork to keep them quiet—that spoke to the magnitude of some of the shenanigans he must have seen over the years. “I bet.” I was even more curious now, but Gary was naturally the tight-lipped type. It was probably one of the things Tony appreciated about him.
“But you know,” he said, glancing over. “As I get older, I prefer working for guys like Tony. I’m way too old for the parties and the crazy schedules, you know? Take them to the concert, then this bar, that bar, hotels. Don’t even get me started on mopping vomit and other...stuff...off the stairs, the couches, the windows, everywhere.”
Ugh, that sounded awful, and I said so.
“You have no idea. It is awful,” he went on. “Maybe it makes me a fuddy-duddy, but I don’t care; these clean bands are much easier on us career guys. Back when I was young and single I could hack it, but now? Nope, I’ll only work for Tony or guys like him, or I’ll leave the business.”
“I bet your wife appreciates that, too,” I said. “Knowing you’re not stuck in that crazy life.”
A sweet smile spread across his face as he glanced up at the picture of his wife of many years that was clipped to the visor. “We have a lot of trust, but yeah, it helps.”
I was about to ask him more about his wife when I heard the rattle of a bunk curtain. I looked down toward the back of the bus and saw it was Will’s. He suffered pretty bad insomnia, so it was no surprise that he was getting up early. Many nights that I was up late, I’d see him get up, use the bathroom or grab a drink, and then he’d head back to bed. I had a feeling he never slept through a whole night.
But then, there was the soft scrape of another bunk curtain opening. I had to press my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud, because it was Nessa’s, revealing her smiling face as she looked across at Will’s.
She must have sensed me there because her head snapped toward me and her eyes went wide. I could totally see the panic on her face as she stared at me.
“That’s right,” I muttered under my breath. “You two are so busted.”
But I actually loved that they had this little early morning hookup going on. I sort of wished I was in bed so it could happen, but at the same time, this was going to be pretty entertaining for Sandy. And Sandy’d had a rough day and could use some entertaining.
“What was that?” Gary asked.
If those two were going to be having regular hookups, Gary was going to know about it, if he didn’t already, but Nessa was adamant that she wasn’t going to get with anyone on tour. And now that Will was staying, she especially wouldn’t want it getting back to her dad that they were flirting (or more). So while I couldn’t keep Gary from finding things out on his own, I owed it to my best friend not to spoon feed it to him.
“Nothing,” I said. “A couple of the zombies have emerged.”
I watched as Will went back to the bathroom and Nessa came up front toward me. That they didn’t say anything to each other was even more evidence that they were trying to hide their plans and I was the fly in their ointment.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 56
