So the Warners saw that tattoo. They also saw the ones scattering down my arm, well on their way to forming a full sleeve. The song lyrics. The red and gold Chinese dragon. The guitar surrounded in flames, which is a little cheesy and had actually been the result of a bet with Daltrey. The Warners saw every one of these tattoos, saw my messy hair and my baggy worn out jeans, my wallet chain and my Van Halen T-shirt. And they saw my car the other night, my precocious, badass Porsche.
Their look of concern when they saw me hugging Sam suddenly makes a lot more sense.
They know that I’m in a rock band. Sam had mentioned that much. But had they looked us up? Do they know how big we are, the kind of music we play? Do they know who I am, what my reputation is? And if they don’t yet, would they soon find out, now that they know how close I’m getting to Wyatt? To Sam?
I have a feeling that if they did know all of that, their feelings toward me were going to switch from slightly weary to downright hostile. What grandparent wants their grandkid, particularly one that they were responsible for raising, to be hanging out with someone like me?
I grip the side of the sink, feeling sick. Would they refuse to let him see me? I know, without a doubt, that such an action would have Sam cutting off contact immediately. There is no way she is going to put our relationship ahead of her kid.
A sudden flash of anger shoots through me. I had just told Sam how much Reed had changed in the last year. She had made it pretty obvious that she was working hard to change, too. So where was my chance? I thought of Daisy’s repeated, bewildered questioning on the topic of my friendship with Sam. She simply couldn’t believe it was something that I was capable of.
No one thought I could change. And that had always been fine with me because I hadn’t wanted to change. I had been more than happy for things to continue their course, one that I imagined was working out quite well for me. But what if I wanted to try something different? What if I wanted to try to be someone Sam could count on? Why was that so hard for everyone to imagine?
Maybe you’ll just have to prove them wrong, I think, feeling a rush of defiance. It’s the same feeling I used to get when we were shopping our first demo around, trying to get an agent or a label rep interested in us. The kind of feeling that only came from the most hurtful kind of rejection.
I meet my own gaze in the mirror, steeling myself. I can do this. I can show Sam that I won’t hurt her, won’t hurt Wyatt. I can show the Warners that there is more to me than the tattoos on my skin. Show my brothers that they don’t need to constantly judge me, doubt me.
I push away my own doubts that I might be getting out of my league, entering into territory I had never been sure I wanted to visit. What if I mess it up? I have a pretty long history of messing things up.
“Not this time,” I say out loud to my reflection. “Not this fucking time.”
I am going to show everyone—starting with myself.
Chapter Fourteen
Sam
A few weeks after the Ghost in the Graveyard evening, Cash tells me that the label has arranged a small private concert to showcase the work the band has been doing for some of the executives. I can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s nervous about it, that this is a big deal kind of show for the success of their new album. When he asks me if Penny and I would like to go, I say yes immediately, excited for the chance to hear them play live for the first time.
Penny meets me at my apartment after class on Friday so we can drive to the venue together. We have some time to kill before we need to hit the road, so I show her what I’ve been working on for the last few weeks.
“This is good work, Sam,” Penny says, her voice sounding a little awed as she peers through my portfolio including all the information on the benefit. “Like, fabulous good. I can’t believe you’ve managed all of this work so soon.”
“I’ve had a lot of help.” I can hear the pride in my voice despite my qualifier, but I don’t care. If there’s anyone who’s always encouraging me to be more proud of my efforts, it’s Penny. And my efforts have been pretty much non-stop lately.
Over the last two weeks the whole thing has taken shape—my proposal was met by enthusiasm by my advisor, who told me that pulling it off would most certainly increase my chances of securing the internship. Once the proposal was accepted, I got to work, Paige and Daisy helping me way more than I had anticipated. There was a part of me that wondered if maybe their enthusiasm was lip service, an attempt to make me feel welcome—I was very mistaken. They’ve taken to the project with gusto, texting me spontaneous ideas, hosting planning meetings, doing research on the internet. So far I’ve booked a venue in Seattle and Ransom has signed on for an acoustic set as well as securing tentative agreements from a few of their friends to perform with them. It’s a bit of a whirlwind, to be honest, but I can’t deny that I’m feeling really, really good about it.
“Well, I think you’ll get that internship hands down,” she says, setting the portfolio back on my kitchen table. “Though why you want to spend the rest of your life broke as hell working for a non-profit is beyond me.”
“I know it has nothing on your decision to spend your life broke as hell working at a beauty salon.”
“My working in a beauty salon is only temporary until I meet a rich man to take care of me for the rest of my life.” When I make a face she winks at me. “Speaking of rich men, how’s it going with Cash?”
“Penny.” I don’t bother to hide the warning note in my voice. We’d had the Cash and I are just friends talk on several occasions. But she seemed hell bent on convincing me that I was throwing away a very good opportunity by not jumping between the sheets with him again.
“I’m just saying,” she argues, palms raised. “He’s crazy hot and he’s crazy about you. That sounds like a damn good combination to me.”
“He’s not crazy about me.”
“Oh, give me a break. He’s spending every free minute with you, Sam. And with your kid. And he’s doing all of that without even getting any. Of course he’s crazy about you.”
I blush a little and look down, fiddling with the edge of my portfolio. “That’s kind of the point, Pen. He hasn’t said a word about us being more than friends. He’s perfectly content to just hang out with me.”
“Oh, God,” she mutters. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Why am I ridiculous?”
“You’re actually miffed that he isn’t hitting on you anymore, aren’t you?”
“No I’m—”
“You are. I can tell. This is so like you, Sam. You insist and insist on something and then realize you don’t like it all that much once you get your way.”
“Hey,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “I do not do that.”
My cousin merely rolls her eyes, smirking. “Sure you don’t. Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me that it doesn’t bother you at all that Cash isn’t trying to get in your pants anymore?”
I sigh, narrowing my eyes at her. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“Liar.”
Sometimes I hate how well she knows me.
“Okay, so maybe I have kind of been wondering if he might make another move. But that doesn’t mean it bothers me that he hasn't.” I point at my chest. “Complicated, messed up chick over here, remember?”
She grabs her bottle of water from the table and hops up onto my countertop, swinging her legs as she inspects me. “Now that you bring it up, I’m sensing a distinct lack of messed up from you these days.”
I raise an eyebrow, not buying it. “Really?”
“Yes, really. You’ve been doing well, Sam.” She gestures at the portfolio. “I mean, this senior project is so above and beyond.”
“So, I’m doing well in school. That’s not exactly unheard of for me, you know. I have managed to get good grades most of the time, even when I was messing up everything else.”
“Yeah, because you would obsess about your schoolwork out of penance for your w
eekend meltdowns.”
I snap my mouth shut. What she’s saying isn’t that far from the truth—I think back to all the weekends I spent shit faced in bars, or picking up guys, or even trying to score a chemical aid to help me get through the day. Inevitably I would feel like shit, try to get it turned around, and throw myself entirely into my schoolwork.
“You’re not doing that anymore,” Penny says, pointing her water bottle at me. “You’re doing well in school without making it your entire life.”
“I never made it my entire life—”
She makes a scathing noise. “Yes you did, and you know it. But it hasn’t been like that lately. You’ve been like—balanced.”
I frown, trying to think of myself as a balanced person. It doesn’t really work. I’ve been careening between extremes for so long, balance is probably the last word I would use to describe myself.
“Just look at how the past week has gone,” she continues, holding up a hand to tick items off on her fingers. “You went to school, you studied, you worked on your project, you went to Wyatt’s soccer game, you had lunch with me, and you’ve hung out with Cash and his brothers what, two times?”
“Three.”
She grins, both pleased and a little smug. “Sounds pretty balanced to me.”
I plop down into a dining room chair. “Wow. I guess I didn’t notice…”
“Well, I did. And I’m proud of you.” She hops off the counter and straightens her polka dotted halter. “Now, are we going to this private concert or not? Because I may have bragged to every single person that I’ve come in contact with over the past forty-eight hours and I’m going to be pretty disappointed if I have to go back on that.”
I laugh, holding out a hand so she can help drag me up from the chair. “Let’s go see us some hot rockers.”
***
The preview is held at a club in Seattle. When we arrive, a doorman checks our name off on a list. “Hang on,” he tells us, reaching into his back pocket to pull out two laminated passes. “There was a note to give you these.”
I peer down at the card in my hand, feeling a little thrill to see the words Backstage Access printed there. It’s silly, really, considering how much time I’ve spent with the members of the band at the cabin, but it’s still exciting. Penny lets out a little squeak when the bouncer hands her pass over.
“This is amazing,” she tells me, clutching my arm. “I can’t believe we get to go backstage! You didn’t say a word about it!”
“Cash didn’t mention it.” I had been happy enough that he invited us to the preview to have even considered a backstage pass, but I probably should have expected it. Cash is very good at making sure I enjoy myself whatever we’re doing.
We’re early, but the club is already filling up. The guests appear to be a mix of suits from the label and more casually dressed, long-haired guys—kind of a strange combination. I catch sight of Daisy on the far side of the room and wave, and she immediately makes a beeline for us.
“Hi, Sam! Cash just asked me to come out and look for you.”
“Crazy about you,” Penny mutters in my ear before holding out her hand for Daisy to shake.
“Daisy, this is my cousin Penny. Penny, you remember me talking about Daisy, right?”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Penny tells her. “Love your hair by the way.”
Daisy looks slightly taken aback and I roll my eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s obsessed with people’s hair and seems to think it’s a perfectly normal conversation topic during introductions.”
Daisy grins and then looks down at the passes we have in our hands. “Oh, good, you got your passes. Now we don’t have to worry about finding a security guard I know. Come on.”
We follow her across the small club, several of the guests greeting her as we pass. “Most of this crowd is from the label,” she explains. “And a few journalists and radio executives. But the guys asked some of their musician friends along, so it wouldn’t feel so stiff.” I try to imagine the serious looking guys in suits jamming to the set and the addition of their fellow musicians makes a lot more sense.
Daisy leads us to a door in the back where we all flash our passes for the burly looking security guard standing at his post. “You know your way back, Daisy?”
“I’m good, Frank, thanks.”
“Okay, I have to warn you,” she says once we’ve passed into the hallway beyond. Roadies are rushing around, looking stressed, but I don’t see any of the band members. “The guys are a little intense right now.”
“That makes sense.” Cash had told me what a big deal this preview was, how much shit they had been getting from the label and their tour sponsors for taking so long. If everyone wasn’t able to come to a consensus that they were in good shape, things could get pretty bad for them.
“I just wanted to mention it.” She smiles at Penny. “So you didn’t think they were sullen and broody on a normal basis.”
“She already met Lennon,” I explain. “So she had a sneak peak of sullen and broody.”
Daisy laughs. “Well, they’ve all joined him tonight in emo mode.”
She stops at an unmarked door, pokes her head in, and then opens it for us. “Here we are.”
The dressing room is a lot busier than I expected with more roadies and a few serious looking middle-aged guys talking to Blake. Paige sees us first and runs over to hug me, seeing as how it’s been a full twenty-four hours since we last met to work on benefit stuff.
“This is my cousin,” I tell her, gesturing at Penny. As they introduce themselves my eyes scan the room for Cash, finding him on the couch with his brothers, now talking to the middle-aged guys I had noticed with Blake. Daisy hadn’t been exaggerating—they all look very serious, not a smile in sight. Reed is rubbing his hand over his forehead, wincing.
But then Cash looks up and sees me watching him. The tension visibly wipes from his face, his frown replaced with a smile. Even though the older guys are still talking, he stands and approaches me without a word to anyone.
“You made it.”
“I did.”
I search his face, feeling a little worried for him. Though he’s smiling now there’s still a tightness by his eyes that I’m not used to seeing there. “Are you okay?”
He shrugs. “Sure. Just a little nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous. You guys will be fine. The songs are great.”
His smile grows. “You haven’t heard the songs.”
“I know you’ve been feeling really good about them—so that must mean that they’re great.”
“I really hope you like them.”
The guy he was talking to calls him back over and he rolls his eyes at me. “Manager calls. And by manager I mean overbearing father. Make yourself at home, okay? Have a drink, relax.”
Penny and I sit with Daisy and Paige while the guys confer with their dad. Eventually a roadie comes in and tells them that the stage is ready. I catch Cash’s eye as Daisy leads us out of the room, giving him what I hope is an encouraging smile. Out in the crowd, I feel a rush of excitement as we make our way toward the stage. The security guard who had led us backstage now takes us right to the edge of the stage, the perfect spot to watch the show.
The lights dim and Paige sighs next to me. “I’ve missed this,” she says, sounding wistful.
The small crowd cheers as the boys take the stage and I feel that rush of excitement again. Cash takes his spot on a stool, his guitar on his leg. Just before they start playing, he smiles down at me.
The songs are fantastic. I’ve been listening to a lot of their old stuff since I started hanging out with the band, and I can say in no uncertain terms that the new songs are even better than anything they’ve recorded. I’m sure that the label is gong to love them, sure that they’ll end up on a new record soon and I can’t believe how lucky I am to hear them first.
I also can’t get over how sexy Cash looks up on stage. He plays the guitar like it’s an extension of himself,
like it’s the most comfortable, natural thing in the world. And he grins the entire time, that cocky, rock star grin that I always assumed was for the girls in the crowd but I now wonder if it’s maybe just the result of him playing. He’s enjoying himself. That much is obvious. And every so often he’ll look down at me and that grin will grow a bit.
***
After the set is over, the guys are mobbed by their friends and the people from the label. Everyone seems very positive about the songs and I can read the relief on Cash’s face from across the room. When I finally manage to get through the crowd to see him, his expression is hopeful. “What’d you think?”
“It was amazing.”
His grin takes my breath away.
“We’re going out tonight,” he tells me before his dad pulls him away. “All of us. You’ll come?”
I say yes without a second thought.
The band arranges for a limo to take us to a club. I sit between Penny and Cash, trying not to pay attention to how close we are. His leg is pressed against mine, and I’m painfully aware of his every movement. Somehow seeing him on stage has reawakened my body to his, like there’s a magnetic pull between us. I’m not sure if it scares me or if I like it—a lot.
In the club the boys order a round of drinks for the table, Penny convincing me to join her in a neon colored fruity something or other. I’m usually more of a hard liquor girl, but when Cash agrees to try the froufrou drink I have to participate. He winces his way through the entire thing, which makes me laugh, before ordering us both a scotch and soda. “Now this is a drink,” he says, toasting me.
We sip our drinks slowly, watching as Daisy and Daltrey head out to the dance floor. They’re joined after a few minutes by Reed and Paige. Even Lennon heads out, to my surprise, along with most of the friends they’ve brought from the show. “Come on,” Penny says, tugging at my arm. I look over at Cash on the other side of the table and he smiles lazily at me. The drinks are making me feel warm and relaxed, just the right amount of buzzy. I don’t want to move.
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