Yes, I sent. Slow connection on the bus.
Also, you looked SO CUTE together on that poster! she sent, reminding me she’d been the one to out me as the girl on the promotional poster. The one that was only supposed to be a tight shot of my mouth and cheek. She hadn’t known what had been printed was a mistake, so it was hard to get angry with her for causing the whole media uproar. But it’s not like I needed that reminder.
Thanks! I sent, not really feeling the exclamation point, but there it was. Anyway, long day ahead. Need more sleep. See you later today! And there was another one. I blamed Blurty who was all about excited punctuation.
OMG, it’s still night for you. So sorry!
Not to mention we kept late hours, so ‘morning’ was something of a relative term. I didn’t respond because I had a feeling otherwise we’d be at this for hours, so I closed the conversation but not my phone.
I registered that there were indeed two texts from Will, which were nothing more than the check-in messages I’d expected. But even though he wasn’t pushing for an answer, I could almost feel that he was waiting for my response about the offer he’d received. I hovered my fingers over the letters as I thought of what to say.
If you want it, you should take the LT gig, I typed. I stared at the words for several long moments and then took a long inhale to steel myself, and hit send, knowing it was the right thing to do.
I cursed at the three dots that told me he was up and had maybe even been waiting for my response.
Thanks, was what he sent. Which told me nothing.
Seriously?
Thanks—that was it?
It was way too late to dance around it. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Emmie I needed more sleep. By my middle of the night math, I’d only gotten about three hours. Are you going to take it?
Not sure. Leaning toward no.
What? That was so not the answer I had been bracing for. But while I should have been relieved, I oddly wasn’t. In fact, I was surprisingly annoyed. How come?
Reasons, he sent back, which felt like a text version of a shrug. And a blow-off.
And then there was nothing. Not even three dots. Was I supposed to drag it out of him? I was about to press further, but I was so tired. And annoyed that he was making me work for it. Couldn’t he just tell me? Whatever. If he couldn’t just spit it out, I wasn’t playing this game anymore. Not tonight.
So I took his words at face value and didn’t pursue it. Ok. Back to sleep. TTYT I sent before closing down the window. I felt a pang of guilt, but he had to learn the middle of the night was no time for cryptic games.
There was another message, this one from Sandy. It wasn’t the note telling me her and my dad were flying in the next day that I’d been hoping for. Instead, it was a link to a notorious paparazzi site (surely a Wiretap sighting that it was way too middle of the night to bother with).
There were also a couple of early morning run sheet updates from Linda.
Nothing urgent, so I turned off my phone and rolled over toward the wall, pretending I didn’t hear Will come out of his bunk and whisper my name into the small gap left by the curtain.
Nope, boy band, I sent him telepathically. Not playing that game tonight.
When he said my name again, I rolled back over and pulled my curtain completely closed.
Message sent.
A moment later, his feet shuffled away, moving toward the bathroom at the back of the bus.
Message received.
I pushed away the guilt and focused on my breathing, allowing the sway of the bus to rock me back to sleep.
The Leak
A glance out the side windows of the bus told me we were in Phoenix. We were parked behind the hotel where we’d have the meet and greet and then the reception after the concert. I had just used the bathroom and was waiting for my coffee to brew when I grabbed my phone from the charger in my bunk and turned it on. As the voicemail notifications started rolling in, sounding like a loose slot machine in Las Vegas, I quickly turned the ringer off so as not to wake everyone. Despite my efforts, I still heard a couple of angry groans, which I ignored because after two weeks together twenty-four-seven, no one was blameless on that coach.
Still, knowing that all these notifications meant something was up that I was going to have to deal with, I abandoned my coffee and grabbed some money and sunglasses out of my bunk. Heading to the front of the bus, I dug my flip-flops out of the box at the top of the stairs and slid my feet into them before unlocking and opening the bus door. It took not even a half a second to be hit by the wall of heat that was Phoenix in July.
I have to say, though I lived for summers at the beach, the heat in Arizona was instantly overwhelming, making me very thankful that the Phoenix concert was inside and not an open-air festival like most of the gigs on this summer tour.
I softly closed the door behind me and turned to see Stefan standing there with a tight smile, his expression unreadable thanks to his dark aviators. “Good morning,” I said to him with a nod as I leaned back against the side of the coach, regretting it immediately. “Yow!” I said, pushing away from the vehicle that felt like it was right out of a forge. I brushed off my butt as though the heat was a physical thing.
“How can you stand it out here?” I asked, realizing as I did, that the curls at his nape were wet, and beads of sweat slid down both sides of his face. “Never mind,” I added, holding up my palm toward him. “It’s your job, and you don’t have a choice. Stupid question.”
He nodded but as he opened his mouth to respond, my phone rang.
“Sorry,” I said to Stefan as I glanced at the screen. No surprise that it was my father calling for the millionth time. I was really starting to dread whatever it was the day had in store for me.
My mouth went dry, and I wiped my sweaty palm, the one without a phone in it, on the fabric of my shorts, because nothing good came from that kind of urgency. News of platinum sales was exciting but worthy of a single message at best. Sell out concerts? Been there, done that. Whatever Dad had to tell me was for sure bad news.
I gave Stefan a shrug and then pointed toward the hotel so he could fall in line behind me, because there was no way I could stand out there in the blistering heat, even for a short call. Anyway, I already knew this was not going to be a short call.
As I made my way around the building to the sliding front door of the hotel, thankfully shaded under a wide portico, I didn’t bother with a greeting, answering the phone with: “Sorry, my phone was off. What’s happened?”
“It leaked.”
Two words that made me stop in my tracks. He didn’t need to say anything else because I already knew exactly what he was talking about. We had been naïve to hope it wouldn’t happen. But really, it was just a matter of time. The juicy story of my mother’s return had somehow gotten out to the press. It had been big news when she’d disappeared, but that she had returned after five years of being presumed dead would be ginormous news. Especially considering who she’d been presumed dead with.
Unable to bear the heat, especially now that my heart was racing and my body was flushed with anger and nervous energy, I made it through the doors and into the lobby where I dropped into a big club chair. Stefan cased the area before he took a spot leaning against a big column, remaining close, but at a respectful distance where he could see me.
“How bad is it?” I asked my father as I levered my sunglasses up to rest on my hair.
He sighed into the phone. “Could be worse. No one knows much. Just that she’s alive.”
I laughed, even though there was not a thing funny about it. “I don’t know much,” I said as it occurred to me. I’d been so in denial and unwilling to even think about the logistics of her return, that I hadn’t asked for even the most basic details. “Like, I don’t even know if that guy she ran off with is alive.”
“He is,” Dad said and then after
a pause, added, “I’ve actually spoken with him.”
Which both made sense and didn’t. Since the guy who my mother had run off with—Nick Barrow—had been Dad’s big client at the time, on a business level it made sense, but personally? That was messed up. How my father managed to sound calm and not lose it was beyond me.
“Wait,” I said as a horrible thought occurred to me. “You’re not producing him again now, are you?”
“No,” he said, immediately and definitively, to my great relief. “Not at all. I just needed to get the story from all sides. He asked to meet with me, actually.”
“And now it’s probably going to be all over the rags and TMZ.”
“Unfortunately,” he said with a sigh. “Though the good news is not many details have come out yet since Nick is in negotiations with a publisher. He’ll save most of it for the book.”
“Of course he’s shopping a book,” I bit out, hating the media and how quickly they descended on stories like this. Or maybe Nick had contacted them to cash in before it got out. Either way, he was the target of a good portion of my anger, too. “So he’s probably who leaked it.”
Dad paused and then said, “I don’t know. He assures me he didn’t. He knew that we were hoping to get to you first before the story broke, so I want to believe it wasn’t him.”
But the tone in his voice told me he wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered—the end result was the same.
I wasn’t about to rub my father’s nose in the fact that if this guy was okay stealing another man’s wife, he was probably fine with leaking his story to the news. Especially to try to drum up some buzz that would only help him get top dollar for selling his story.
Or...did my mother leak the story? Was she shopping a book deal?
Sigh. I was so over all this crap.
“Dad,” I said, wishing I could just crawl into my bunk and lie there in the fetal position for the next hundred days until this all blew over. Not a chance, though. “I need to get through today. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“I understand, Nessa. I’m so sorry about all this.”
“Not your fault,” I said, not only because I knew he was feeling horrible, but because I kept having to remind myself that this wasn’t his doing. That reminder would keep me from holding him responsible or directing my anger at him.
“Just remember,” he said in a warning tone. “Don’t assume anything you see on TV or read online is true. Wait to judge until you get the whole story.”
Too late. I’ve already judged based on what I do know, I thought but didn’t say anything.
“Fine,” is what I said out loud. “I’m staying far away from any sort of media or news today.” Actually, most days.
“Good girl,” he said. “Probably for the best.”
I picked at a hangnail and glanced up at Stefan, whose eyes were sweeping the lobby as he did his job. “But please tell me you’re coming out here today.” I don’t know why I asked. Wishful thinking since I figured the chances were slim to zero.
“We’re on our way,” he said surprisingly. “I’m calling you from the plane, as a matter of fact. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Can you do us a favor and clear all the stuff out of Linda’s bunk and get it ready for her?”
My eyes pricked with tears of relief. But wait. “Linda?”
“Yes,” he said on a sigh. “Not my idea for her to come but she’s stubborn and wouldn’t be denied. Not this time.”
I heard muttering in the background that sounded a lot like Linda, mouthing him off. I smiled, in spite of the rest of my drama-filled life. I was actually looking forward to seeing her.
“Anyway,” he said. “She’s promised to take it easy, but we could use her help.”
“The only bunk left is the bottom one at the front.” There was good reason why it had been the last to be chosen.
“That’s perfect, actually,” Dad said. “It’ll be easier on her if she doesn’t have to climb up to get to it.”
“Okay,” I said. “Consider it done. Tell her I’ll be glad to see her.”
Not a lie, either, even though her return meant I was soon going to be out of a job. One that I never wanted in the first place. So I guess at least there was that.
Lobby Talk
While I was still on the payroll and was in the hotel already, I figured I may as get started on my work day.
Since Linda and I did all the booking and planning of our events remotely, viewing each place live once we were on site was a necessity—sometimes brochure photos could be very generous. Also, it was always a good idea to touch base to make sure catering was all set, and the guys would have what they needed for before and after a show.
So, as I had every other day that we had media meet and greets, I checked in with the events person and toured the room for the evening’s reception and after-party. Together, we went over the menus and set-up and tweaked a few things. Most importantly, after looking at the catering list, I added more food for the late-night gathering because the guys were always ravenous after a concert. After working so hard on stage, they deserved more than just finger foods, and I had learned that there was no such thing as too much. Even if we didn’t finish it all, the guys would inevitably take the leftovers to the bus where the food would disappear in a matter of hours.
After confirming all was in order, I stopped at the hotel’s coffee shop to buy myself a very overpriced, but much-needed latte. When I remembered that I was going to have to go outside and brave the heat on my way to the bus, I opted for an iced version.
I tried to buy Stefan one while I was at the counter, but he graciously refused, telling me he’d already filled his coffee quota for the morning. Where and when those guys ate and drank was a mystery, because I’d never seen them at it, making me wonder if they consumed anything at all.
Maybe they were robots. Like, Terminators, but good guy Terminators. I shook off the odd thought and watched the barista behind the counter as she prepared my latte, thinking that maybe I needed a holiday. From what was supposed to have been my summer holiday.
Once my drink was ready, I took it out into the lobby and allowed myself the indulgence of a few minutes to myself, sitting back in that same club chair from before, trying to sort out the day ahead without the inherent distractions of the crowded bus.
Today was going to be hell, no matter what, but if I could stay away from any media, I could compartmentalize my family stuff and leave it for tomorrow. That still left a long list of things I needed to accomplish, including meeting up with the Rosewood and Westwood kids.
I was halfway through the latte and most of the way through scanning the day’s run sheet that Linda had sent first thing when movement out of the corner of my eye made me look up.
That movement turned out to be Will walking toward me. The annoyance I’d felt at him from the middle of the night conversation we’d sort of had via text came back to me. Except, when I examined it in the few short seconds as he approached, I realized the edges were worn off. I was mostly just tired.
“Hey,” he said, dropping into the chair on the other side of the little table from mine.
“Morning,” I said. “What’s up?”
I noticed more movement and glanced over to see Max walking in with Dr. Carmichael. They were chatting, and neither looked overly concerned, so I figured it was just one of their regular sessions.
“So...” Will began, and I braced myself to get into the whole Legion Thunder discussion with him again. “Graeme’s coming down with something.”
Okay, so that’s not at all what I had been expecting, but it got my attention and made me sit up straight. “What?”
He nodded, his mouth pulled down into a frown. “He’s feeling lousy—G.I. issues, I think.”
“Oh God, seriously?” I said because there wasn’t much worse than someone with gastro issues on a bus with one bathroom. Unless it was m
ultiple someones with gastro issues on a bus with one bathroom.
“He’s not dying or anything,” he added quickly. “Probably just a summer flu or something, but Billy thinks he should take the night off to rest up.
“In fact...” He glanced over toward the door, and I followed his gaze in time to see a hunched Graeme shuffling with Kiki toward the hotel’s front desk. His backpack was slung over her right shoulder.
“What’s going on?” I made to get up but Will put a hand on my arm.
“Kiki’s got it. He’s checking in for the day to get some rest and have a bathroom to himself.”
“Good plan,” I said, though I was still concerned because if he was already sick, others had been exposed. A tour bus was a breeding ground for germs, and a virus was very likely going to spread through all of us.
Good of them to get ahead of it and quarantine Graeme as best we could, but we needed to be careful. Myself included.
And then, as I pushed away thoughts of stocking up on hand sanitizer, I realized illness wasn’t the most pressing issue in that moment. “Just him?”
He nodded. “So far. Kiki forced us all to chug OJ back on the bus, though.”
Leave it to Kiki. But that still left us down a front man. I asked the obvious question: “You’ll take lead tonight then?”
Will looked uncomfortable but unsurprised that I would suggest it. “Billy and Tony had a call about it and already asked me, so yeah, I will.”
But he didn’t look happy about it.
“It’s good you’re here,” I said, trying to figure out if his reluctance was nerves at being Wiretap’s lead vocals and frontman or awkwardness over being the best musician in the band. The band that wasn’t supposed to even include him.
“I know. I guess it’s lucky. And I’m glad to fill in, but any of the other guys could...”
“Maybe,” I said, looking around to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard. Kiki and Graeme were on the other side of the lobby, busy at the front desk, and Stefan was out of hearing. “But not as well.”
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 75
