The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  Max nodded. “Do you think...would you ever...” he looked at me. “With me, I mean.”

  Until five minutes ago, I hadn’t even thought about it. Not because I didn’t like him, but because of how I thought he felt about me. There was no hiding that we’d butted heads and I’d had no idea that he kept me at a distance because of having feelings for me and how it conflicted with his grief over Marie.

  But now...I looked at him, at his messy blond hair and impossibly blue (but still slightly reddened) eyes that were open and vulnerable, and wow, something just clicked. But it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

  “I don’t know, Max,” I said. “Things are complicated. We’re on tour. And I think once you sober up you’ll realize it was just the booze talking.”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s not. Maybe it’s making me able to tell you this stuff.” He laughed. “In fact, I know it is.”

  “Still,” I said. “While it’s flattering, I don’t know what all this means. You probably don’t even like me, really. You probably are just rebounding. She was your only girlfriend, right?”

  He frowned and didn’t answer, clearly not liking my feelingsplaining. Especially when I was sort of making it up as I went along—I had no idea how I felt about this, so how could I possibly know how he did and how much of it was genuine?

  But there was one undeniable truth: “What I do know is that with all that you told me today, you aren’t really in a place to date anyone.”

  He stared at me until I had to look away. So awkward.

  “You know I’m right, Max,” I said, my voice squeaky. “Please. Don’t complicate things. Work on you, and then we will figure all this other stuff out, okay?”

  Finally, I got a nod out of him, though it was more a resigned nod than one of agreement.

  “You need to talk to Tony, though. If you want me to be there, I will. Just let me know, okay?”

  Another nod.

  “But before that,” I said, giving him my best this-is-not-negotiable face. “You should probably sober up completely. Why don’t you go grab a nap on the bus?”

  “Good idea,” he said, not moving away and it was like he didn’t want to end this whatever between us.

  “Go on,” I said, giving him a push toward the bus. “I need my bathing suit and sunglasses, so I’ll come with you, but we need to be quiet.”

  “Okay,” he said. And then after a long moment when we were almost at the bus, he grabbed my arm to stop me. He gave me a sweet smile. “Thanks, Sandy. For everything.”

  Poolside

  After that illuminating conversation, which was so much more than just an illuminating conversation, I put on my bathing suit and a summer hoodie and shorts over top. Being as quiet as possible, I grabbed a pack of Pop Tarts and a big bottle of water and left the bus, heading out toward the pool to find Nessa. I left Max behind to sleep off what he’d told me was most of a flask full of whiskey, nicked from his dad’s stash.

  With a beach towel over my arm, I walked as quickly as I could in flip-flops. Because things had just gotten so freaking complicated that I needed the ear and calm common sense that my best friend was known for so I could sort it all out.

  Not to mention that I needed to hear more about her latest: the hookup with Will. Speaking of, by this point, he must have told at least Tony, if not all the guys, about his plan to stay. I looked over my shoulder, wondering if Max knew and what he thought about it if he did. Funny how it hadn’t come up in our conversation, I thought with a snort.

  I got to the fence around the pool and let myself in through the gate, the clang of the heavy metal latch alerting everyone to my arrival. There were maybe ten non-Wiretap people scattered around the enclosure, some watching the pool and a few immersed in reading.

  Nessa was on a lounger on the far side of the pool, dressed in shorts and a tank, her giant sunglasses covering most of her face. She lifted an arm to give me a lazy wave as I closed the gate and walked around the pool toward her.

  On a lounger beside her, mostly in the shade of an umbrella, with a towel draped over her face, lay Kiki, her shock of recently dyed hot pink hair making her immediately identifiable. She was probably sleeping; even despite the noise—she could literally sleep anywhere. Years of being on the road, I guess.

  All the guys were in the water, goofing around with some kids, playing pool basketball in the deep end. The way they were splashing around and jostling each other, I understood exactly why Nessa was on the lounger, staying well out of the fray. Maybe part of it was that she didn’t have a bathing suit of her own (and probably wasn’t so eager to play in the pool with the guys while wearing mine that was small enough on her to be borderline indecent) but either way, I was happy to join her—we needed to talk. Kiki was a complication, but we could work around her.

  Nessa’s beach tote was on the lounger next to her, which I took to mean she’d been saving the seat for me. I put the bag on the concrete deck, pulled the lounger closer to hers and arranged my towel on it. “Hey,” I said as I kicked off my flip-flops, removed my shorts and hoodie (checking my bikini to make sure all my bits were covered appropriately) and settled myself on the chair, ready to catch a few rays.

  Working so many nights and indoors meant my skin was desperate for some color. If we’d been at the Hamptons beach house as we’d originally planned, I’d be good and tanned by now. But pasty skin was a sacrifice I was very okay making for what my life was right now.

  Nessa smiled over at me. “Hi. I got you an iced coffee at breakfast, but the ice started to melt, and you weren’t here yet, so I let Graeme have it.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. Iced coffee sounded amazing about now.

  “Did you eat?”

  I pulled the package of Pop Tarts out of my hoodie pocket and held it up. “I’m about to.”

  She lifted her chin toward her beach bag. “I got some muffins if you’d rather.”

  “You’re the best.” Yet again, I was impressed by Nessa’s thoughtfulness—it was second nature to her to make sure everyone was taken care of. It was what made her such a great tour manager. And friend. I dropped the Pop Tarts on the chair and reached for her bag, and the paper one tucked inside.

  “Have you seen Max?” she asked as I pulled out a blueberry muffin.

  My arm froze as I glanced over at Kiki—it was impossible to know if she was sleeping under her towel.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying my best to sound casual. “He was on his way back to the bus for a nap.”

  Nessa frowned. “Back to the bus? That’s weird—he was still on there when we left for breakfast, and he never joined us. Where was he coming from?”

  Darting my eyes pointedly toward Kiki and shaking my head, I sent Nessa a silent message that meant I’d tell her later, but out loud I said, “Not sure. Maybe a walk?”

  I realized she may not understand my pointed looks since I was wearing sunglasses, but thankfully she nodded.

  I returned my focus to the muffin, pulling the paper away when Kiki’s towel said a muffled, “Ugh, it is way too hot out here,” making Nessa and I exchanged amused looks.

  Without another word, Kiki ripped the towel from her face, got up, and unceremoniously dove into the pool.

  “Okay,” I said, leaning close to my best friend. “Now that she’s gone, who knows how long I have to tell you this.”

  “What?” she said, tilting her head toward me. “Something going on with Max?”

  “Where’s your dad?” I asked before answering her.

  She looked around and then back at me, giving me a shrug. “I think he’s in the office or the business center. He wanted to talk with Linda now that Dave told him he’s staying.”

  “You know, now that he’s staying, you should really start calling him Will.”

  She laughed. “I know. I can’t help it.”

  �
�Anyway,” I waved her off, determined to get to the important things while Kiki was occupied in the pool. “Do the guys know?”

  Nessa shook her head. “Not yet, he wanted to tell them all together and since Max was MIA... Probably at dinner so keep it on the down low before then.”

  I mimed zipping my lip and throwing the key over my shoulder. “So,” I said. “Things have gotten a bit crazy and kind of complicated, but I need you to promise you won’t tell your dad before I fill you in.”

  She gave me a withering look, one that I totally understood. “You’re my best friend, Sandy. Not to mention, my father does not want to hear about you hooking up with Ted.”

  “This isn’t about my hookup with Ted,” I said quietly. “Though I will fill you in on that later.”

  She frowned. “If it’s not about that, what is it?”

  I leaned closer. “This is about Max.”

  “Oh?”

  I nodded and covertly swept my eyes around us to make sure I wouldn’t be overheard. “He’s having a lot of trouble dealing.”

  “This is not news,” she said.

  “No, but the fact that he is on the bus sleeping off being drunk is.”

  Nessa sat up, swinging her legs off the lounger toward me, her feet slapping on the concrete. “What?” she basically hollered.

  “Shhh. Be chill,” I said, looking toward the pool, but thankfully the guys were loud and rowdy, and even Kiki was leaning against the side, watching them. No one seemed to have noticed Nessa’s sudden outburst.

  “Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “But what happened? Where did he get it from? One of the other guys didn’t buy it for him, did they?” she frowned over at the group of guys. I wasn’t exactly sure which of them were legal to buy booze, but probably any one of them could just name drop or slip enough money across a counter to make it happen.

  “No,” I said, “He said he got it from home when he visited.”

  She exhaled loudly. “And he waited until today to drink it?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s weird,” she said, screwing up her mouth. “Why didn’t he drink it before now—that was several days ago?”

  “That I don’t know. Maybe he grabbed it just in case or changed his mind about drinking it because he knew it was a bad idea. But then today...”

  “What happened today?” Nessa prodded.

  “Not today,” I said. “Last night. He saw me and Ted, and I guess...” I took a deep breath.

  “You guess...what, Sandy? What’s going on?”

  “So here’s a funny story,” I began. I balled up the muffin paper and tucked it back into the bag before I continued. “So, last night, I was outside the hotel with Ted, you know, doing our thing, when Max showed up.”

  “Okaaaaay,” Nessa said, her eyebrows disappearing below her sunglasses as she was, I’m sure, trying to figure out how that turned into Max getting loaded today.

  “Well, I guess he followed us outside and wanted to make sure I was okay—being all white knighty.”

  “Really? Max?”

  “Yeah. Let me finish,” I said, with a glance toward the pool, worried we’d run out of time. She nodded for me to continue. “Anyway, I guess it was nice, that he was making sure, but after he left—all in a snit, I might add—Ted said, based on his behavior, he thought Max had feelings for me.”

  Now Nessa’s eyebrows winged up over her glasses. “What? No, seriously?”

  I shrugged. “Apparently his coming to find me was at least partially jealousy-motivated. Or so Ted said. Anyway, I didn’t buy it. Not with how he’s been toward me, which Ted doesn’t know about, obviously.”

  Nessa nodded and did a one-shoulder shrug in agreement.

  “Fast forward to today, I catch him on his way to the bus, and it’s obvious he’s been drinking. So I confronted him about it and...” I paused, still having trouble believing what had happened, even though it had happened to me. It felt so surreal.

  “And what?” Nessa asked.

  I looked around, but we were still very much alone in our little corner of the pool deck. Nonetheless, I made sure to say it very quietly, “He kissed me.”

  Nessa’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out.

  “I know,” I said. “That’s the same reaction I had when it happened.”

  “Was he trying to distract you from the fact that he’d been drinking?”

  “Nope,” I said. “He didn’t deny it. He just sort of...yeah...kissed me.”

  “Max,” Nessa said once she regained the ability to speak. “Max Lindstrom. Kissed you. Kissed you.”

  I gave her a wry smile. “As unbelievable as it seems, yes, he kissed me. On purpose. He didn’t fall into me, lips-first or anything.”

  “I don’t mean...” Nessa quickly said. “Not that you aren’t...”

  I waved her off and took a bite of the muffin, chewing as I said, “I’m not insulted—I know what you mean. Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are. More, probably.”

  She blew out a loud breath. “That is so crazy, Sandy.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Well, I have to ask. How was it?”

  “Uch, how can you ask me that?” I said. Probably because I didn’t want to admit that it had been fine. More than fine. Waaaaaay more than fine. Not that I’d admit that in a million.

  Looking at me askance, she said, “Uh, Sandrine, why are you blushing?”

  “Shut up,” I said. “I’m not. It’s freaking hot out here. Get it out of your head, whatever you’re thinking.”

  She gave me the kind of wry smile that I often gave her. The kind I suddenly hated.

  “Shut up,” I repeated.

  “Does this mean you like him?”

  “No,” I said immediately. And then, “I don’t know.”

  Instead of prodding me verbally some more, she kept quiet, her judgy eyebrows high up on her head until I broke.

  “I don’t know, Nessa, okay? Honestly. It’s pretty confusing, I mean, I was making out with Ted last night, and now I find out the guy who I thought hated my guts has a crush on me? That he was jealous of my hookup that didn’t even mean anything.”

  “That makes no sense; he’s been so...” her sentence trailed off until she seemed to find the right word: “Evasive?”

  I sighed. “It does make sense, actually. He’s been keeping his feelings for me buried because he felt guilty. Part of him doesn’t want to move on because he feels it’s disrespectful to his girlfriend. Survivor’s guilt, I guess. And you know, I think that’s why he’s having so much trouble—he hasn’t grieved properly.”

  “Probably,” Nessa agreed.

  “And then when that psycho beeyotch hacked his account and made it seem to the world like he had discarded the memory of his dead girlfriend to be with a groupie? That sent him over the edge.”

  “That would have made me freak out, too,” she said. “That was awful.”

  “It had to be the last straw.” Seeing me with Ted wouldn’t have been fun for him, either, but that fan crossed a huge line, and it had a devastating effect. One she probably hadn’t even considered (if she was even rational—there was a chance she had some sort of mental illness that was behind her behavior), but she had definitely gotten under his armor.

  “So what are you going to do?” Nessa asked, bringing me back to the present.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to make that decision. “It’s not about what I’m going to do. It’s what he needs to do, which is get better. I have a feeling he thought that time and distance from the accident would help, but it hasn’t. I think the first thing he needs is some counseling.”

  “My dad did offer, but Max turned him down.”

  “He won’t now. He knows he needs to talk to Tony and get some help. He knows this is more than he can handle.”

  “That’s good,” she said, with a decisive
nod. “I mean, obviously I don’t like that he’s not dealing and turned to alcohol as a way to cope—never a good idea. But that we caught it early enough, before it came to be a real problem, and that he realizes he needs help, I’d call that a positive. But...”

  I turned my attention to the guys who had gotten even louder—Graeme, the tallest of them all, was holding the ball up in the air, away from Darren, while he tried to find an open teammate. As Darren got closer, Graeme put his big palm on Darren’s forehead, holding him back. It was such a brotherly thing to do, and I couldn’t help but laugh until Nessa said my name sharply.

  “Huh?” I asked turning back to her.

  “There’s a ‘but.’”

  I frowned at her. “A butt? Are you talking about Will’s butt?” I glanced back at the pool, but Will was in the deep end, most of his body covered by water. A shame, too, his butt was definitely worth looking at.

  “Sandy!”

  As I turned back toward my friend, it was quite satisfying to see that she was now the one blushing.

  “No,” she said with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Shut up. A but with one ‘t.’”

  “Fine,” I said, though the way her face suddenly got serious was concerning. Very concerning. This could be a very big ‘but.’

  “Your dad’s not going to kick him out for this, is he? I know he has a zero tolerance policy for drugs and booze, but...”

  Damn, that was a big ‘but.’

  “Oh, uh, actually that’s not what I was thinking,” Nessa said. “But I don’t think so. Not if Max knows he needs help and gets it. Everyone makes mistakes and the only person Max hurt today was himself.” Then she added, “And it’s not like he was on stage or anything. Dad’s pretty reasonable, especially about grief, to be honest.”

  I was reminded that Nessa’s mom had died in a plane crash after she’d taken off with one of Tony’s clients, a scandal that had left Tony not just widowed, but totally devastated. Nessa didn’t like to talk about it much but had alluded to the fact that it had taken her dad a long time to get over it.