The Ransome Brothers_A Ransom Novel

by Rachel Schurig

  “It has felt a little strained,” I agree.

  “You don’t want to hurt your voice at the start of the tour,” Dad says. “Don’t push it.”

  “Right.”

  Dad looks around at us and I let my eyes follow his. My brothers look a lot calmer now, and it strikes me what our father has just done—given us each a task. Something to focus on. Sure, it had been criticism, but it was gentle, straightforward. Constructive. And exactly what we needed to keep our heads from spinning out of control with nerves. Funny how our dad seems to know just what we need to hear.

  “We’ve got a few minutes,” he says, looking down at his watch. “Why don’t we jam for a bit, get your fingers warmed up.”

  “You too?” Reed asks, eyebrows high.

  Dad shrugs. “Why not? You can all laugh at how rusty I am—that ought to get your minds off things.”

  We all chuckle, moving to grab instruments. Daltrey hands Dad his acoustic guitar, picking up a tambourine to play while he sings, Reed grabbing a set of bongos. We flop onto the couches, Lennon sitting cross-legged on the floor with his bass, and Reed counts us off. We start with some Clapton, our father’s favorite, and I roll my eyes as Dad’s fingers move effortless over his strings. Rusty my ass, I think. He could easily replace me out on stage. Dad focused on drums back in the day, but he’s a natural on guitar, playing with the kind of ease and talent that can’t be taught.

  After Clapton we move on to the Stones. I feel myself easing into the music, the remains of my tension floating away. When Levi comes back with a clean shirt for Lennon, I’m actually surprised to see him—I’d almost forgotten where we were. We could have just as easily been back in our own living room in Ohio, where we’d played like this too many times to count.

  “Five minutes,” Levi says softly, handing the shirt to Lennon before heading out to oversee the final preparations on stage. I wait for the nerves to resurface at his words, but they don’t. I feel fine. Our dad is right—we can handle this.

  “Okay” Dad says, standing and setting the guitar to lean against the couch. “Better start to head out then.”

  I down the rest of my beer while Lennon pulls on the clean shirt. Out of the corner of my eye I see Daltrey peek in the mirror, tousling his hair a little. I keep my mouth shut, fighting the urge to tease my little brother, but catch Dad’s eye, both of us grinning. When we’re all ready to go, Dad gestures for us to pause at the door.

  “I’m not going to get sappy on you,” he says, and Lennon laughs a little, the sound nervous. Dad grins. “I’ll just say this—you’ve worked hard. You deserve this. Have fun.”

  We all look at each other, the words sinking in. I can’t help but think about all those hours of hard work our father alluded to—the rehearsals, the writing sessions. The crappy van tour. Opening for Grey Skies. Hustling to get our demo heard. All of that work is culminating in this moment. Our album climbing the charts. Headlining our own tour. The four of us, doing it together.

  I catch Dad’s eye again, seeing the pride there. The five of us, I correct in my head. The five of us did this together.

  “Okay,” Reed says, picking up where our dad left off, like always. He puts his hand in the center of the circle. “Ransom on three.”

  “Ransom on three,” Dad agrees, placing his hand over Reed’s. Daltrey, Lennon, and I follow suit and Reed counts off.

  “Ransom!” we all shout in unison.

  Dad gives us a brief smile before his expression slips back into neutral. “Kick ass out there, boys.”

  Reed grins. “Got it, Dad.”

  Then we walk out of the room together, the four of us, ready to do exactly what our father said.

  Reed

  On the night of our first LA show, I find myself struggling to get in the right mindset. I’m distracted and more than a little edgy—which is generally how I feel most of the time these days. I hoped the prospect of a live show might be enough to pull me out of whatever funk this is—particularly a live show to be performed in front of tens of thousands of fans. This is our first true stadium show and we’re completely sold out—as is our entire run of thirty shows scheduled for this residency.

  “Maybe smile a little,” Lennon suggests, bringing me a beer in our dressing room. He nods over at the cameras on the perimeter and I scowl. They definitely have something to do with my mood. I hate having the cameras here. But the label insisted on the behind-the-scenes special—and the fat payment we’re raking in from HBO— promising us the documentary would focus on the music and the shows rather than overblown drama in our personal lives. I have my doubts about that. My experiences with this kind of thing have been pretty terrible—to say I have a low opinion of anything resembling reality show producers is an understatement.

  “I’m not smiling for the cameras, Lennon.”

  He shrugs. “Best way to keep from capturing their interest is to not stand out. And acting all emo over here in the corner definitely stands out.”

  I stare at him. “Is this seriously reality right now? I’m getting lectures on being emo from you?”

  He laughs. “How the tables have turned, huh? You’re a moody bastard, Cash is in panic mode half the time about the baby, Daltrey is grumpy because Rose has him sleep deprived.” He grins at me. “And good old Lennon is sitting here happy as a clam, everything right with my world.”

  I know he’s joking, but he does have a point. I slap a hand on his shoulder. “Len, don’t panic, but I actually think you might be the normal one these days.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Then hell has definitely frozen over. Come on. Let’s go be social.”

  I follow him as he heads towards Levi, Cash, and Daltrey, who are talking in the center of the room.

  “Is Dad here?” Daltrey is asking as we join them, and my muscles stiffen, whatever levity I found in joking around with Lennon dissipating.

  Levi gives Dalt a strange look. “Of course he’s here. Has he ever missed a show? Ever?”

  Daltrey shrugs a little, looking sheepish. “I mean…I might not blame him if he skipped this one.”

  “I wouldn’t either,” Levi says, his tone more than a little sharp. “But he would never do that.”

  Daltrey looks more sheepish than ever, but I feel a flash of anger at Levi’s implication. He’s so clearly on our Dad’s side here, and he has absolutely no right—

  “Don’t even start,” he mutters, looking right at me. I scowl.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yeah,” Levi says, rolling his eyes. “But you were going to.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but Cash cuts in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Did he bring his girlfriend?”

  There’s a beat of silence. “His what?” I finally manage to get out.

  Cash is grinning. “Yeah. Dad had a woman there when I stayed over a few weeks ago.”

  I just gape at him, none of this making sense. Finally I grasp onto the first thought I can get my mind around. “You stayed over at Dad’s?”

  Cash rolls his eyes. “Don’t sound so betrayed, Reed. I got drunk, okay? I was having a rough time after Sam went home that first time, when we’d just found out about the baby. I didn’t want to bug you guys, so I called Dad for a ride. It’s no big deal.”

  It feels like a big deal, and I’m not really sure why. I do feel betrayed, I realize, knowing even as I think it how stupid it is. But there’s something about the idea of Cash forgiving Dad so easily, of calling him for help when all four of us are in town, that’s not sitting well with me.

  “Forget about that,” Daltrey says, waving his hands. “There was a woman?”

  “There was.” Cash looks positively tickled over this. “She had clearly spent the night. And they seemed awfully cozy. And get this—he introduced her to me.”

  “Holy shit,” Lennon mutters, eyes wide.

  Only Levi looks unimpressed. “What did you expect him to do, pretend like Ruby wasn’t there?”

  “Ruby?” Daltr
ey yelps, turning to our friend. “You know this person?”

  Levi shrugs. “I’ve met her. She owns a bar. Seems nice.”

  Daltrey is shaking his head, looking every bit as shocked as I feel. Levi’s eyes travel from face to face. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

  “Yes,” we all say in unison.

  “He’s never dated, Levi,” Lennon explains. “Not ever. Our whole lives.”

  Levi rolls his eyes again. “I’m sure there were women over the years.”

  “I’m not saying he was celibate or something,” Daltrey cuts in. “We’re just saying he never openly dated. And he certainly never introduced us to anyone.”

  “Maybe he’s been lonely.”

  That shuts us all up. Lennon and Cash exchange an uncomfortable glance, Daltrey staring at the floor. Apparently I’m not the only one feeling a stab of guilt at the thought of our father being lonely. I push it down. “Well he knows exactly who to blame for that.”

  Levi sighs. “Can we talk about something else? You guys are on in twenty minutes—we have more important things to be thinking about.”

  Luckily Daisy takes care of the subject change, arriving at that very moment, Rose in a baby carrier strapped to her chest. “Your biggest fan came to see you,” she says, and we all move to crowd around her—and argue over who gets to hold the baby first.

  “Look at these,” Daltrey says, a dopey grin on his face as he pulls a set of blue, baby-sized headphones from the diaper bag on Daisy’s shoulder. “They block out most of the sound. So Daisy can take Rose out to one of the suites to see us play if she wants to.”

  The tiny headphones, with the Ransom logo splashed across both sides, are ridiculously adorable, but I bite my tongue. I know Cash and Lennon are just as embarrassingly crazy about Rose as I am, but that wouldn’t stop them from ragging on me if I flip out about the headphones. Paige told me I tend to make a noise she refers to as a squee when I think Rose is particularly cute. I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but it doesn’t seem like the type of noise a rock star should make.

  “Hey,” Karen calls, entering the room with Paige. “Is everyone getting excited?”

  “Ransom show!” Paige yells, throwing her arms up, and we all laugh, Cash joining her in whooping.

  “Why’s it so quiet in here?” Karen asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be rock stars?”

  So Daltrey turns on some music and Lennon passes out a few beers so we can try to get in the proper mindset for the show. I’m having a hard time not thinking about what Cash and Levi said about our Dad and this Ruby person, but I try to push it away. This is the first time we’ll be playing for a big audience since Paris, and that was months ago. Plus this crowd is even bigger, our biggest ever, and I need to have my head in the game.

  “You ready for this?” Cash asks me as we head out to the stage twenty minutes later.

  “Sure,” I say, bumping his fist with mine. “Piece of cake.”

  He laughs. “Keep us on beat, big brother, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Sure,” Daltrey mutters, shoving Cash’s shoulder. “Lennon and I have nothing to do with it.”

  Cash slings an arm around Dalt’s shoulder. “It’s like I keep telling you, little brother, no one gives a damn about the piano player.”

  “I’m the lead singer,” Daltrey argues.

  “It’s cute, isn’t it?” Cash asks me, pulling Daltrey down into a headlock and messing up his hair. “That he thinks he’s so important.”

  “Quit it!” Daltrey yells, pushing against him. When Cash releases him, Daltrey’s hands go straight to his hair, desperately trying to return it to its former meticulously tousled glory.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Lennon says, laughing. “You messed with the hair.”

  “Oh no,” I say. “The whole operation is going to go tits up now, Cash. Dalt’s pretty hair was the glue holding this whole thing together.”

  “I hate all of you,” Daltrey mutters, still furiously running his fingers through his hair, and we all laugh.

  And then I look up to see our dad standing there, right in front of us.

  He’s talking to a few roadies and seems to look up right at the moment that I notice him—his eyes go wide with surprise. “I…thought you were already out there,” he says.

  No one says anything for a long moment, and I can tell my brothers are as uncomfortable as I am—and that Dad might be the most uncomfortable of all. Finally Cash breaks the silence in his typically Cash way. “Dalt needed some extra time on his hair,” he explains, voice serious, and Daltrey smacks the back of his head.

  Dad smiles for just a moment before he wipes his face into that all-business expression I know so well. “Good luck out there,” he says. “Have a great show.”

  “Thanks,” Lennon says. “We will.”

  “Hell yes we will,” Cash agrees, slapping my shoulder. “Let’s do it.”

  I follow them down the hall, purposefully not looking at my dad as we pass.

  “Get your head back in the game,” Cash mutters in my ear as we reach wings.

  “My head is fine,” I mutter back.

  He laughs. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

  “Screw you, Cash.”

  He grins. “That’s more like it.”

  I learned long ago the best way to channel whatever I’m feeling—put it into my music. I can usually get out of my head so long as I have a drum kit to pound on. And tonight is no different. I take every ounce of frustration I’ve been feeling over Dad for the last several months and use my sticks to pound it away. After the first couple songs, I can feel my head clearing, my energy turning from something dark and angry to something exhilarated. The crowd is insane, filling the entire arena, screaming their heads off, singing along with us. And we’re on. Daltrey is singing like his life depends on it, the weeks off clearly having been good for his voice. Cash is his usual, arrogant self on guitar, and I can tell even from back here that he’s loving the arena vibe. Even Lennon seems happier than usual, actually looking up from his bass on more than one occasion.

  It’s a great freaking show. As we leave the stage, every one of us exuberant, I start to think, for the first time, that this whole residency series might just be a good idea. The thought of going home with Paige after, instead of getting on a bus or checking into a hotel, seems just about perfect.

  “You kicked ass,” Levi says, grinning as we join him in the hall, high-fiving roadies. “Awesome show.”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Daltrey laughs, throwing his arm around Levi’s shoulder.

  Levi pushes him off. “You’re dripping with sweat, ass,” he says, shuddering. “And I am surprised—you guys have all been such whiney little dicks recently, I thought you might fuck this up.”

  “Ah, Levi,” Cash says, clapping his back. “What would we do without your faith and encouragement?”

  We’re all laughing when we reach the dressing room. The girls are there, along with some suits from the label and the producers of the special, and they all stand and clap for us when we appear.

  “Not bad, boys,” Daisy says, grinning.

  “Not bad?” Paige cries, throwing herself at me. “That was awesome! You were so, so good! And they all loved you!”

  “Thanks, babe,” I say, laughing as I hug her back. It’s crazy to think that I’d been in such a bad mood just a few hours ago. Now I’m floating.

  “Where’s Rose?” Cash asks. “I want to hear what she thought.”

  Daisy rolls her eyes. “She’s sleeping in the back.” Her expression immediately turns worried as she looks over her shoulder. Daltrey slips an arm around her waist.

  “The nanny has her. She’s fine.”

  “Maybe I should just go check—”

  “Dais,” he tells her. “She’s fine. It’s the first show. You can just enjoy yourself for a while.”

  “That’s right,” Karen tells her, grabbing Daisy’s arm and pulling her away from Da
lt. “Let’s get a drink in you, sister. Then we can dance!”

  Slowly the room fills with roadies and some local friends who came to watch our opening night, a real party atmosphere starting to gear up. The drinks are flowing, the music is on, and, for once, I just want to relax and enjoy it.

  “You really were great,” Paige says, bringing me another beer. I quickly pull her into my arms, spilling her pink drink a little and making her yelp in surprise. “Reed!”

  “Sorry,” I laugh, leaning down to press a kiss into her neck. “Couldn’t help it.”

  “You’re so predictable.”

  I know my grin is silly big as I look down at her. “And what does that mean?”

  “All I have to do is compliment your band and you go all lovey-dovey on me.”

  “How dare you, woman?” I make a growling noise. “I am far too cool and manly to be lovey-dovey.”

  She snickers. “Uh huh, sure.”

  I press another kiss to her neck and she sighs, relaxing against me. “It’s nice to see you so happy,” she says softly and I tighten my arms.

  “It’s nice to feel so happy.”

  I manage to hold on to that feeling for most of the night. It isn’t until well after two, when Daisy is yawning so much Daltrey insists they go home, that things fall apart.

  “Hey,” Lennon says, coming up to my side. I can tell from the look in his eyes that he has something to say, and that I’m not going to like it. “Dad wants to talk.”

  I swear. “Of course he does.”

  Lennon meets my gaze. “Let’s just see what he wants, okay?”

  “Fine.” I glance across the room to see Cash and Daltrey, standing together and watching us. Apparently everyone else has already agreed to this meeting and they’re just waiting on me. Reed, the unreasonable one. My mood darkens further as I stride towards them, Lennon at my heels.

  “So where is he?” I ask, crossing my arms.

  “Back there,” Lennon says, nodding toward one of the back rooms. They’re all still watching me, like they expect me to blow up or something.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I mutter, gesturing for them to lead the way.