My shoulders slumped as I realized she was right. Because no, it wasn’t like me to check out and I wasn’t okay. “Sorry, Kik,” I said, dropping into one of the chairs in the front row behind us. “I’m...”
“You’re worn out,” she said, taking the seat beside me and gathering me into an awkward side-hug pulling me against the armrest. “Totally understandable. I wish I could whisk you away for a few days of R&R.”
“I wish that, too,” I said, leaning into her for comfort, not caring that the armrest was digging into my ribs.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” she said, squeezing me before she let go.
I gave her a withering look.
She snorted. “You think we can’t manage without you for one night?”
I cringed because she was right. I mean, I was a kid with a clipboard on her first tour where she and Billy had been at this for decades. Not to mention, the stage manager and techs were all skilled, too. She must have read my mind. “Not that you aren’t valuable, Nessie. We love having you with us, and you are doing an amazing job. But because you do that amazing job, we can handle a night without you. Go sit on the bus and watch movies, or lie in your bunk and sleep. Whatever you need to do to recharge.”
“But...” I protested because I was starting to consider it, which made me feel instantly guilty.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she said, shaking her head and wagging a finger at me. “Don’t fight me on this. Everyone else gets days off and other than a few hours at the spa over a week ago, I don’t think you’ve stopped working in one way or another since we left Brooklyn.”
She was right again. And I didn’t want to fight her. Especially as the thought of putting a mindless rom-com into the DVD player and eating microwave popcorn for dinner sounded pretty much like heaven just then. Only the insertion of my best friend beside me on the couch would have made it more perfect (I’d even agree to watch one of her favorite horror movies if only to have her there with me).
“And it’s not just work,” she added gently. “You have a lot going on and more to come, I’m afraid. So I think I’m going to make an executive decision and tell you that you are ordered to take the night off. If you try to fight me, I’m going to sick the shrink on you.”
I laughed but wasn’t about to tell her that forcing me to talk to Dr. Carmichael didn’t hold quite the threat she thought it did. Best to let her think I was giving in.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll just let Billy—”
“No.” She popped up out of her chair and grabbed my hand to pull me to my feet. “I’ll tell him and the others. I don’t want you to find an excuse why you can’t leave. Just go straight back to the bus, and I don’t want to see you again until tomorrow morning.”
I gave her a hug. “Thank you,” I said into her ear.
“Get Ven to walk you,” she said as she gave me a little shove toward the door, the door that would not take me past Billy or the guys. I loved that she was taking charge and giving me what I needed—what I wouldn’t give myself.
As I walked down the hall toward the outside door, I thought about Kiki and how we’d gotten so close in just the weeks since we’d started tour. I’d known her forever, but not like this. Never before would I have guessed she’d have such mothering tendencies. Maybe I hadn’t noticed because I’d thought I was done needing a mother.
Only at that moment could I see how wrong I’d been. I’d convinced myself I’d stopped needing a mother but only because I no longer had one.
Once I got outside into the warm summer sunshine, I almost turned back, went back inside, and threw myself into her arms. But as I glanced over at Ven who was wordlessly approaching to accompany me, I realized that would have been weird. Instead, I nodded at the security guy, straightened my spine, and continued to the bus.
Later, at about the time when the guys would be in the middle of song five or six of their set, I was stretched out on the sofa in the coach, one of our Fourth of July blankets draped over me, nearly comatose. I was most of the way through a ridiculously trite but still oddly satisfying rom-com, a bowl of leftover popcorn kernels on the floor beside me when the door of the bus opened with a soft kerchick.
It had to be Gary, who’d ducked out to grab himself some dinner (more like breakfast) though I hadn’t expected him back so soon. That meant he’d brought the food back with him and I guiltily hoped that was the case as a sudden craving for a few stolen fries overcame me.
I paused the movie, a little embarrassed to be caught watching sappy garbage, even by Gary. But as I glanced over to see the head coming up the stairs, I was thrown into a panic when I recognized the mop of hair coming up, followed by a familiar forehead and piercing eyes. Definitely not Gary’s.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded, coming to my feet, knocking the remote to the floor with a loud clatter, and barely noticing that I’d kicked over the bowl of popcorn kernels. “What’s happened?”
Better than French Fries
“What?” Will seemed alarmed for a moment and then smirked (rather maddeningly) as he must have clued into my panic.
As I glared at him, his smirk quickly dissolved. “Sorry, but no, it’s nothing. I’m not coming to report any death or dismemberment,” he said as he knelt down and began to pluck the kernels up off the floor and drop them back into the bowl.
I pressed my palm over my racing heart to try to get it to slow. But even if no one was dead or dismembered, there had to be a reason why he had left the stage and come to get me. He wasn’t even wearing his stage clothes. Instead he was clad in his casual board shorts and one of his soft gray t-shirts.
His hair was tousled but he didn’t seem to have any powder on his face. Had he even made it onto the stage?
Had my dad done something without telling me?
I looked around for my phone and was about to grab it when I realized it would be faster to just hear it from the guy in front of me. The one who seemed to be very focused on retrieving every single stray kernel.
I absently thanked him as I took the bowl he handed to me as he stood up. I put it on the counter and managed to wait for something like two seconds before I could not stand it even a moment longer. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
He dropped to sit in the center of the leather couch and motioned for me to return to my spot at the end of it.
I remained standing, getting impatient. “Tell me.”
“All is well,” he assured me. “Nothing you need to deal with. Sit.”
Reluctantly, I lowered myself down, bringing my feet up and wrapping my arms around my knees.
I cocked my head at him, not saying anything as I waited for the rest, resisting the urge to scream at him to hurry up. Because something was off. He seemed off somehow.
It took a few moments, but finally, he blew out a breath and said, “It was crowded on the stage tonight. I felt...” He shrugged and looked away, scanning around the bus, but I doubted his eyes were tracking. He was completely in his own head—a state I was well experienced with and could easily recognize in others. Especially him.
No one had ever treated him like the fill-in guy, especially with his amazing talent (and the knowledge that if he’d auditioned when Dad had first been putting the band together, he would have been my father’s first choice) but I understood why he might be feeling like the odd guy out right now. Chris was back, and the band didn’t need three guitars, but Tony didn’t want to let him go. Will would never oust someone to make a spot for himself, so that had to be making him feel unnecessary and out of sorts.
I doubted Dad would keep all six of them in the band indefinitely, but I felt like he was just stalling until Linda returned and they figured out what to do.
Secretly, I’d thought they could probably let Andres go back out on his own, but even my confidence had taken a hit with the low ticket sales in Phoenix. Even with Andy—our big draw—in
the band, we were going to struggle to fill seats. So the truth was that we still needed him. At least until the band was established enough that good sales numbers were a given, which probably meant through the summer and their contract.
“Will?” I said.
He gave me a funny smile. “You used to call me Dave.”
“I know,” I said, my heart fluttering a bit at that. With him in this odd mood and us being alone on the bus, I had a feeling this conversation could get very intimate really quickly. “I still think of you as Dave most of the time. But for the band, I need to...” I gave a little one-shoulder shrug.
He nodded and then looked down. “I know.” He took a breath and changed the subject, maybe as afraid of us getting too close as I was. “Anyway, nothing happened tonight. I just told Billy I wasn’t feeling well and since Chris is up to speed, they didn’t need me.”
“Are you feeling ill?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m all right.”
At least physically. He looked soul-weary, though. “You’re feeling superfluous,” I said.
“So that’s a ten dollar word,” he said, smiling up at me through his lashes.
Freaking eyelashes would be the death of me, I swear. “Yeah, well...”
“It’s a good word,” he said. “Especially since it’s exactly how I’m feeling.”
“Do you want to leave?” I asked. And then when he glanced over at the door, I quickly added, “The band, I mean?” I held my breath as I waited for his answer.
The next thing I knew, without a word, he reached toward me and gently drew my bare feet into his lap.
“What are you doing?” I looked out the front window to make sure no one was approaching the bus, not wanting to get caught with him touching me so intimately. Especially by someone who might tell my dad.
“Relax,” he said softly.
“I’m trying to. Why do you think I’m out here?” Though at the moment, I was sure I sounded anything but relaxed. But what did he expect when his hands were on my feet?
“You’re still way too tense.”
And just as he said the word ‘tense,’ he pressed his thumbs into the arch of my right foot, slowly pushing up toward my toes. I nearly melted into a puddle right there on the leather couch.
“Oh God, that feels good,” I groaned, my eyes closing and beginning to roll back.
I could hear the smile in his voice when he said. “See? That’s how you relax.”
I kept my eyes closed and allowed myself to enjoy his touch. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Abe and I give each other full body massages after P.E. class.”
My eyes flew open. “What?”
He laughed. “I love that look on your face. So worth it.”
“Shut up,” I said without heat, closing my eyes again. “Your roommate knows you came on tour, doesn’t he? When I talked to him back at the Valentine’s dance, he loved the idea of you joining the band.”
“Way more than I did,” Will admitted. “Especially back then. But yeah, he knows. He’s happy for me.”
He sounded wistful, and I wondered if he missed his friend, but I didn’t pursue it. Instead, after a few long moments of thinking about how much I stood on my poor, neglected feet, I realized he’d dodged me. I looked at him and tilted my head. “Hey, you never answered my question.”
“Which one?” he asked, his voice soft and smooth. Was he trying to talk in a soothing spa voice or was he as blissed out rubbing my feet as I was receiving the massage?
“Do you want to leave the band?”
He kept his eyes on my feet in his hands. I knew he’d heard me, so I tried to be patient.
Eventually, he said, “I don’t know. There are pros and cons to staying. And leaving.”
When he didn’t elaborate, and I figured that meant he didn’t want to get into it, I said, “You should talk to my dad when he comes back,” I said. “About how you’re feeling.”
He nodded.
I closed my eyes again and allowed myself to melt deeper into the couch. But it seemed my brain wouldn’t let me completely disengage. A few moments later, I couldn’t help but ask, “So...tell me, Will, Dave, boy band... Superfluousness aside, did you come out here for me?” When his hands stilled, I quickly added, “And don’t you dare stop rubbing my feet, you can do that and answer at the same time. I’ve seen you simultaneously sing, play a guitar, and do complicated algebra in your head.”
The massaging resumed, accompanied by a chuckle. And then: “What if I did come out here to see you?” It was half challenge, half sincere question.
I opened my eyes to find him looking at me intently, waiting for my reaction.
“You can’t bail on the band for a few private moments with me,” I said. And in case he was getting any ideas of how else he could fill a few private moments, I said, “We’re not going to be alone for long. Gary will be back soon.”
“I know,” he said but returned his gaze to my feet. “But I actually didn’t leave the stage because of you.” He looked up at me and gave me another one of those killer smiles. “Though, being out here with you is definitely an added bonus.”
“For me too,” I said, feeling closer to him suddenly. Like I could tell him anything, and it would be okay. Maybe foot rubs were the key to intimacy in successful relationships. “I needed some decompression time, but having you here rubbing my feet? Not the worst thing that’s happened to me today, boy band.”
He smiled and then seemed to realize what I’d said. Or, more accurately, what I hadn’t said. “What is the worst thing that happened to you today?”
I sighed and poked him in the belly with my big toe. “Don’t ruin it.”
“Your mom?”
So much for not ruining it. I leaned back against the end of the couch and closed my eyes. “What else?”
“Sorry, Nessa,” he said.
“The foot rub is helping,” I said as I nudged him again with my foot. “A lot. Not talking about it would help even more.”
“Message received,” he said as he resumed the foot rub.
Speaking of messages, my phone signaled just then. My body tensed up as I reluctantly pulled my feet from Will’s grasp and sat up with a sigh. “No rest for the wicked, I guess.”
“Ignore it,” he said.
I reached for the device that I truly loathed most days. “I’d love to, believe me, but I can’t.” Because since Sandy had eliminated most of the social media and unnecessary junk from my phone, any messages I did get were important ones that often needed my immediate attention. Sure, Kiki had given me the night off, but that didn’t mean I could unplug completely.
Whatever it was, I grieved that my short evening of chill, the one that didn’t even last a whole movie, was likely over.
I also figured that whatever message was coming in had to do with Will and his not playing.
I was wrong on both counts.
The message was from Gary, of all people. Unless you need me, I’m at a pub and will stay to watch the ball game.
Sagging with relief at what was just a simple check-in, I leaned back on the couch and returned a message: all good here. Go Cubs!
“I take it that was good news?” Will said.
“Not really even news,” I said as I turned the phone toward him.
When he was done reading the screen, his eyes darted to mine. “So...that means...”
I’d never been much of a mind-reader, but I could definitely tell what was going on in his brain just then. Though maybe that was because it was the same as what was going on in mine: that we were alone and would be for some time.
The only question was: What would we do to fill that time?
Our eyes were locked together, and the only movement between us was the rise and fall of our chests as we breathed. Then I wondered if he suddenly felt short of breath, too.
&nb
sp; It was a weird tableau, each of us waiting for the other to make the first move.
He lifted his right eyebrow.
I lifted mine back at him.
He smirked.
I tried not to smirk back. Unsuccessfully.
As I sat there, mentally willing him to make the first move because then I couldn’t take the blame for it, our standoff became like a ridiculous game. Who would go first?
Finally, he became the one willing to lose (or win?).
He leaned over me, slowly at first, like a cat prowling a mouse, maybe to gauge my reaction or give me the opportunity to stop him.
I was powerless to. No, that’s not right, I wasn’t powerless to stop him; I didn’t want to. What I wanted was exactly what he did next: for him to bring his body above mine until I was looking up at him, wisps of his brown hair framing his face. He held himself on straightened arms, his hands on the armrest of the sofa behind me, the muscles in his biceps bulging under the short sleeves of his t-shirt as he caged me in in the best way possible.
“You good with this?” he asked, his eyes drifting down to my mouth.
“That’s a loaded question,” I managed, though my voice sounded strained. “Business Vanessa is most definitely not okay with this.”
He froze for a second and then leaned down and brushed his lips against mine in the most maddeningly lightest of kisses. “And non-business Nessa?” he whispered, his breath tickling my mouth.
My hand rose to his waist, fingers edging under the hem of his shirt to touch the warm flesh underneath. He hummed as my palm slid up and around to his bare back. “The non-business side of me is very okay with this.”
“I like the non-business side of you,” he said, nuzzling that perfect spot under my ear. The one that made rational thought nearly impossible.
“There’s a war going on inside of me.”
“Which side is winning?” he asked, his lips moving to press against my mouth again.
My other hand twined in his hair at his nape. And I opened my mouth, but not to speak.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 70
