The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  As she filled her brush with paste, she bumped into me with her shoulder. It was a wordless question, but one I recognized as sure as if she’d asked out loud.

  I looked up at her. “I need to apologize for freaking out on him,” I said softly. “I’ll fill you in on the rest tomorrow.”

  Ugh, tomorrow. The day I got to officially meet my mother. Awesome.

  “You sure?” Sandy whispered. “I’m up for a bit if you want to chat,” she twitched her head toward the lounge area of the bus and the sofa of truth, not that she knew Will and I called it that.

  I considered her offer and then realized I was just stalling, so I shook my head and then leaned close to say, “No. I need to get this over with and then hit my bunk. And I hate to ask this, but can you go to bed? I am going to need to talk to him face to face.” I cringed, feeling bad about kicking her out of the lounge, knowing that as a night owl, she liked to stay up late.

  But she just nodded. “Whatever you need,” she said before she put the brush in her mouth.

  Which is just one of the reasons why we’re best friends.

  The Last to Know

  Once Sandy was closed up in her bunk, I tugged my phone out of my pocket and sat on the couch at the front of the bus—our couch. After a moment of shoring up my courage, I texted Will: Meet me on sofa of truth so I can apologize?

  Even though at my current angle, I couldn’t see clear to his bunk, I looked toward the back of the bus, waiting for him to emerge. Yes, it was late, and he’d been in bed for a while, but he was a light sleeper, plagued with insomnia, so I had no doubt that even if he was sleeping, he’d wake up at the text and come out.

  Which made me suddenly feel guilty because if he had been sleeping, it was kind of douchey of me to interrupt that, especially since his sleep was precious being that it was so scarce. And he worked hard—today even more than usual—and deserved his rest.

  Oh well, I told myself. It was too late to worry about that now; I could just add one more apology to the growing list.

  But as I waited, and waited, I wondered if he was sleeping with headphones or earplugs in. Most everyone did, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it would make contacting him a little bit more complicated. I looked down at my phone again, but still no response.

  I sent him a waving emoji, regretting it the second I did. It seemed desperate and immature. But what else could I do? I needed to talk to him while we had a bit of privacy. I did not want it hanging over us, especially as the next day was going to be filled with emotional garbage.

  Five minutes later—like, a full five minutes, because I timed it—he still hadn’t come out. Was he ignoring me? Was he dead asleep? Was he actually dead?

  No. Of course not. Though the second the thought entered my head like a dandelion fluff blown in on the wind, it planted itself and started growing and growing. We did call the bunks the morgue, after all.

  I sent him another text, this one devoid of emojis: Please? Groveling is ineffective without an audience.

  Still no response. Not even three taunting dots.

  I timed out four more minutes on my phone. I was going to distract myself for those four minutes by checking out Wiretap’s social media, but then remembered I was on social media hiatus, especially now that the story about my mother had broken. So instead, I stared at the ticking clock.

  Four minutes. Some people could hold their breath that long. It was nothing in the big scheme of things.

  Right?

  I lasted all of two minutes and eighteen seconds before I got up off the couch and tiptoed back to his bunk. But then my impatience turned to indecision as I stood there, waffling on whether to try to get his attention. While it wasn’t silent (because it was never silent) on the bus, it was awfully quiet, and the white noise of the air conditioning only covered so much. The bunk under Will’s was Gary’s, so it was empty, but Kiki’s was the bottom one, right in front of my legs. Her light was out, but that didn’t mean she was deep asleep. She wasn’t my only concern, either: all bunks were within a couple feet of me. No matter what, there was a good chance that, by waking him, I was going to wake others. Maybe even everyone.

  What made it even harder was that Will had pulled his curtain fully closed, something he almost never did, so it added an extra dimension to my anxiety because I couldn’t help but think it had been a very deliberate message. To me, specifically.

  Pull up those big girl panties, I told myself and reached out to pull the curtain across when I heard muttering from Andres’s bunk. I froze as I listened for sounds that meant he was coming out, but after a moment it was clear that it had been just a bit of sleep-mumbling.

  Before I could lose what little nerve I had, I closed my fingers around the handle for Will’s curtain, lifted it a fraction of an inch so it wouldn’t scrape along the track, and pulled it across about two inches—just enough to frame my mouth.

  I leaned in close. “Will?” I whispered into the bunk as softly as I could.

  Nothing.

  I tried again.

  Still nothing.

  “Are you dead?” I asked and then listened hard for a chuckle, an inhale. Anything.

  But got no response. Which was alarmingly consistent with the expected response from an actual dead person.

  I pulled back the curtain a bit more and said his name a third time.

  When there was still no response, I stuck my arm in carefully, expecting to touch hair or the side of his face.

  I didn’t.

  I pushed my arm in farther, assuming he was against the outside wall, but no matter where I touched, there was no body there. Alarm bells started going off in my head as I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight app, shining it through the gap in the bunk curtain, suddenly no longer worried about waking him.

  My fears were realized when I saw, with absolute certainty, that Will wasn’t there; the bunk was empty. It took everything in me to not scream up to Gary to stop the bus. Still, I quickly turned the light off and hurried up to the front.

  Gary took his eyes off the road for half a second to smile up at me. “What’s up?”

  “You need to turn around,” I said.

  If this had been a movie, especially a comedy, he would have slammed on the brakes, making everyone in their bunks roll around hilariously. Someone might even have fallen out with a loud thump. But this wasn’t a movie, nothing was funny, and as a very experienced driver, he didn’t slam on the brakes. Instead, he eased his foot off the gas, causing the bus to slow slightly as he looked at me in confusion. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “We need to go back. We left Will at the hotel.”

  I felt a slight lurch as he hit the gas again. Which meant he wasn’t looking for a place to turn around. What the...?

  “Gary!” I whisper-yelled, “You have to go back. We. Forgot. Will!”

  He glanced up at me, frowning. “We didn’t forget him, Nessa. In all these years, I’ve never forgotten anyone.” He seemed insulted that I’d accused him of messing up. But the evidence was...well, a person was missing.

  “Uh, Gary, he’s not in his bunk.” Could I make it any plainer?

  “Nessa...It’s fine. We didn’t forget him.”

  Panic and confusion were manifesting in sudden tears welling in my eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Obviously no one told me anything, Gary,” I hissed in frustration. “Can you please fill me in before I lose my mind here?”

  He exhaled and waved toward the empty captain’s chair beside him. “Have a seat, would you? I can’t drive with you looming over me.”

  I sat, even though sitting still was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “I was sure he would have told you. Especially since...” He paused to look over at me for a second. “Wait, did you two have a fight?”

  “Gary, can you just tell me what
’s going on?” I bit out. “I will answer all your questions after, I promise.”

  “Sorry. Anyway, he came in earlier and had a chat with your dad, Linda, and Billy. About him joining his grandfather’s band.”

  “Right,” I said, waving him on because none of that was news. “I know he’s going out with them in the fall.” It was now only July and just barely. Except, as I thought it, my stomach began to roll as I realized what must have happened.

  “Billy asked him to come record the album and rehearse with them. He said since the band was in town, Will may as well go with them so he could get started.”

  “What?” I asked. My heart fell into my gut as my fears were confirmed. “So...so it’s official, he’s gone. He’s left the band.” And me.

  Gary nodded, his eyes not wavering off the road. “I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that he was feeling like a fifth wheel here. And I got the impression that once they made the offer, he was itching to get started with them.”

  Especially after I pushed him away. Still, a burst of indignant anger bubbled up, and I opened my mouth to say that he should have spoken to me—that as tour manager, I should have been involved in that decision. Except that I really wasn’t tour manager. Especially not anymore. Linda had returned, rendering me obsolete.

  Also, there was that whole thing where I’d broken his heart to save my own, though only barely.

  It made sense that he hadn’t said goodbye, and it hurt like crazy, but it was my own stupid fault. I really didn’t have a right to be angry about it.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t know, Nessa,” Gary said. “I’m sure your dad would have told you if he thought Will hadn’t.”

  “I know,” I said with a shrug. “It’s fine. It makes sense that he went with them, I guess.” It didn’t explain why he wasn’t responding to my messages, but deep down, I knew the why of that, too.

  Gary looked over at me and gave me a sad smile before he returned his eyes to the road. “Why don’t you hit your bunk? Everything seems better after a good night’s sleep.”

  I sincerely doubted it, but there wasn’t much else I could do. I thanked him and wished him a good night before I rose and headed back to my bunk.

  I woke a few hours later and was barely even conscious before I fumbled around for my phone. Once my fingers closed around it, I pulled it toward my face, swiping the screen and squinting when it came on too brightly.

  The good news: Will was not dead and had received my texts. He even apologized for leaving without telling me and for taking so long to get back to me. He explained that the delay was because he was on a plane with the band. His new band.

  The bad news: He said that I’d been right to want a clean break.

  This shouldn’t have been bad news since it was what I’d said I wanted, but the truth was that it hurt. A lot.

  The good news:

  ––––––––

  (There wasn’t any.)

  Dread Quota

  When I finally rolled out of my bunk several hours later, at the moment when I could ignore my insistent bladder not one second longer, the bus was still and the sun was already up and high in the sky.

  I didn’t need to look out the window to know we were parked at a Holiday Inn near the highway in El Paso; I’d confirmed the reservations the day before. But a glance outside did tell me that it looked like another shorts and tank top sort of day. Until I remembered that I would be spending a good chunk of that day inside the air-conditioned building with my father, mother, and a shrink.

  Happy freaking family reunion.

  All I really wanted to do was grab Sandy and hit a mall or a movie theater—something normal teens did on a regular summer day. Except, I was hardly living the life of a normal teen.

  Once I emerged from the bathroom, I continued to the front of the coach where I joined my best friend at the booth in the kitchenette, sliding onto the bench across from her. It was a twist her being up and dressed before me, but not only had I sent her to bed early the night before, but this morning I’d lingered in my bunk as long as possible, hoping everyone else had left the bus before I rose. The relative silence around us told me I’d accomplished my goal.

  “Morning, Sunshine,” Sandy said, not looking up from her laptop screen.

  “Hey,” I replied. “Is it just you and me left here?”

  “Yep, you’re the last sleepyhead to get up.” She said it without scorn—we all took sleep where we could get it. Keeping her eyes on her screen, she added, “So. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  I was suddenly filled with dread. No. More dread. Which was funny, because I thought that with my impending meeting with my mother, I had already hit my daily quota of dread. Apparently not.

  Although maybe I already knew what she was about to say. “Is this about Will being gone?”

  She did glance up then, giving me a sympathetic look as she shook her head. “You would think, but no.”

  Great.

  “Did you know he was leaving?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t, because what kind of best friend would she be if she’d known he wasn’t in his bunk last night and hadn’t let on?

  She shook her head. “Not until this morning. Max didn’t even know; I guess he made a snap decision to leave and only told your dad and Linda.”

  “And Billy,” I added. “Gary knew, too. When I tried to wake Will up in his bunk to talk last night and saw he wasn’t there, I tried to get Gary to turn around. I was freaking out, thinking we’d left him behind by accident.”

  Her lips twitched. “That’s funny.”

  Yeah, not really.

  “Anyway,” she went on. “They were talking about it this morning with your dad before they all got ready and left for breakfast. The guys understand why he left, but they were pretty hurt, actually. He could have said goodbye.”

  “I agree,” I said. Mostly because I was just as hurt and would have appreciated a goodbye, too. Although I probably didn’t deserve one. Not to mention that I was likely the reason why he’d left so abruptly. Didn’t mean I wasn’t upset about it.

  “So I guess this means you didn’t kiss and make up,” she said.

  “Yeah, uh, no,” I said with a snort. “Neither of those things, obviously. I...I guess I pushed him away, but what was I supposed to do? I knew he was leaving. Better off just to end it now before either of us got invested.”

  She didn’t say anything to that, but I didn’t like the way she was looking at me, as though she was about to challenge me. I got up and took the two steps over to the coffee machine.

  “Don’t make one,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get breakfast.”

  I liked that idea, and so did my empty stomach. I turned toward her and leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms. “So what did you have to tell me, then?”

  “Right,” she said, the left corner of her mouth dipping down into a frown. “The good news, bad news thing.”

  When she seemed to be waiting for me to choose, I sighed and uncrossed my arms to give her a ‘bring it’ gesture. “Bad, I guess. Then we can end this on a positive note.”

  She cringed, making me think the ‘good news’ wasn’t. “So the story broke. In a big way. About your mother, I mean,” she added, in case there was any doubt.

  No surprise there. “Of course it did. And?”

  She shook her head. “It’s...they’re being pretty mean.”

  I stared at her for a moment while I processed my best friend’s expression. “She left me and my father to run off with that kid,” I said. “And stayed ‘lost’ for five years. She deserves more than mean. You’re not seriously feeling bad for her, are you?”

  She exhaled loudly, her shoulders slumping forward as she frowned at me. “You know I’m your best friend who loves you more than anything. The one who has your back always.”

  “But?” I asked because there was obv
iously one coming.

  She shrugged and dropped her eyes from mine. “I don’t know, Nessa. I spent some time with her in New York, and she’s—”

  “Don’t,” I said, cutting off her words, instantly angry and even more incredulous that my best friend, my best friend was about to defend my mother. She, of anyone, knew what it was like to have awful parents.

  “You know, Sandrine,” I began, my eyes narrowing as hers widened, obviously not yet used to my blurty twin. “I realize the bar is pretty low for you in the parents department, what with yours being incarcerated and all, but don’t get all caught up in my mother’s romanticized poor me story. She is not the victim here. And while she seems like a sweet mom who actually cares, don’t be fooled. She is a great actor who has only ever cared about herself.”

  “Nessa,” she said, but I just shook my head. “It’s not like that. You’ll see,” she said to my back as I turned toward my bunk,

  “Oh boy,” I bit out. “I can’t wait.” I wished I’d gotten dressed and ready to leave the bus before I’d joined her, but how could I have known that she’d start dumping on me about my mother, too? First Will, now her? As I reached into my bunk and tugged the charging cord out of my phone, I suddenly felt so alone. I needed a friend more than anything right now, and she’d gone and taken sides. The wrong side because it was the one with my mother on it.

  The world had obviously gone crazy.

  My world had, anyway.

  She was there a half a second later, a warm palm landing on my bare shoulder that stiffened under her touch. “Nessa, I am the last person to defend crap parents. Believe me. But I think you need to give her a chance to explain.”

  I opened my mouth, but the truth was that I was out of words and the energy to argue. How many different ways could I say that I really wasn’t interested in hearing her side of the story? I had promised my dad I would and would carry through with that (for him), but I had no intention of forgiving her. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her back into my life.