Release: A Ransom Novel

by Rachel Schurig

  “We should do something fun,” I suggest after a few minutes of teeth-chattering uncomfortableness.

  “Oh, God, please, Paige,” Cash mutters, closing his eyes. “I love you, girl, but I cannot handle one of your ideas right now, okay?”

  “I just thought—”

  “Our bus is on fire,” he says, gritting his teeth. “We’re sitting outside in the middle of the night—Lennon has no pants on, for fuck’s sake. I do not want to play Twenty Questions or Truth-or-Dare or have another field day or whatever it is you’re thinking. I’m sorry.”

  Reed smiles at me from across the circle. “I’m sure it would have been very fun,” he tells me diplomatically. “Whatever you were thinking.”

  After ten more minutes of increasing grumpiness Frank approaches again. “Looks like it’s going to be another hour, guys. Maybe an hour and a half.”

  “An hour?” Cash cries. “The hell?”

  “It’s after midnight,” Franks says wearily. I realize he’s actually been working for most of the day while the rest of us lounged around on the bus. “Dan had a hard time finding a rental place that was open. We’re not exactly in an urban area here.”

  I look around, feeling a little nervous. We’re in a flat stretch of desert, nothing more than scrub brushes as far as the eye can see. If there are businesses or homes in the vicinity, they’re too far away to be visible. I’m suddenly very glad Frank and Benny are here, with their burly muscles and hidden firearms.

  “Hey, it’s after midnight,” I say once Frank has resumed his lookout position at the side of the bus.

  “So?” Karen asks. Her teeth are chattering.

  “So, it’s Reed’s birthday!”

  He shakes his head at me, a rueful grin on his face. “Some birthday, huh?”

  “Well, this isn’t acceptable,” I mutter, looking around the side of the road as if some solution might be hiding in plain sight.

  “We’ll celebrate tomorrow,” he assures me. “You know, if we ever get the hell off this highway.”

  “Hang on.” I stand, pulling my blanket tighter around me. There’s just no way I’m going to let Reed celebrate his birthday sitting on the freezing cold ground outside. We have to do something special.

  I find Frank at his post. “Do you think I could get into the storage compartment on the other side of the bus?” I ask. “It’s not really anywhere near the fire.”

  He thinks for a moment before shrugging. “Don’t see why not.”

  He leads me around to the other side of the bus, standing directly behind me, between me and the traffic of the highway. I open two compartments before I find my storage bin. I keep my duffle bag of daily essentials with me on the bus and the rest of my clothes here in storage. Of course, it’s not just clothes in my bin. I rummage for a few minutes before I find what I need. Another bin, this one holding extra kitchen supplies, provides the rest of the essentials. As I’m shoving the bin back into the storage space I remember Lennon. “Let’s see...” I reach for the closest bin behind mine. It’s labeled Cash but I’m not going to pull out all the bins in search of Lennon’s. They’re close enough in size. I find a sweatshirt and a pair of flannel pj pants and pull them out, smirking a little at the thought of Cash wearing them when he’s on his own.

  I rejoin the group, shoving the clothes at Lennon. “Here you go, nudey.”

  “Hey, thanks, Paige!” he says happily, pulling the pants on. “Where’d you get these?”

  I meet Cash’s worried eyes and grin wickedly. “Just in the storage bins.”

  I toss a lighter at Karen. “Think you can find enough sticks for a fire?”

  She looks around at the trees close by. “I think there’s nothing but sticks out here.”

  “Do you know how to start a fire?” Daisy asks skeptically.

  “Oh, yeah,” I assure her. “Karen was a girl scout until we were like, seventeen.”

  Karen glares at me but Cash raises his eyebrows in interest. “A girl scout, eh?” he asks. “Did you wear a uniform?”

  “Oh, shut up and help me.” She instructs Cash how to clear the area of twigs and leaves and use the metal spoons I got from the bus to dig a ditch around the area. “That keeps the fire from spreading,” she tells him, stacking thick sticks in the center of the circle.

  “Is this legal?’ Lennon asks uncertainly. “Are we even allowed to light a fire out here?”

  “Good God, man,” Cash mutters in disgust. “One of these days you’re going to figure out that you’re a freaking rock star and stop caring so much about being a good little boy.”

  While Karen and Cash work on the fire, I turn to Reed. “Go away.”

  “What?”

  “Go away. We’re setting up your surprise. Go stand with Jerry.”

  “My surprise? Paige, what are you—”

  I place my hands on his chest and push. “Just go.”

  He shakes his head but complies, muttering about me being crazy until he’s out of earshot. “Okay, you two.” I thrust a bag at Daisy. “Get started on those. Lennon, you can help me.”

  It takes a good ten minutes to get the area set up to my specifications. Without big logs, the fire is a little low, but it casts a cheery glow and that’s the most important thing. “Reed!” I call out. “You can come back now!”

  I hear him approaching across the hard ground and feel a little thrill of excitement. I love surprises.

  “Okay, so what’s—” he stops next to me, eyes wide, mouth open. “What’s this?”

  “An impromptu birthday party!” I tell him, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer to the fire so he can see our handiwork. “A fire-emergency-roadside-picnic-birthday party, to be exact.” I gesture at the space. Daisy and Daltrey blew up several balloons and stuck them in the bushes at our side. Lennon and I wrapped the closest scrub tree with crepe paper. Around the fire we’ve arranged a paper plate full of Oreo cookies, which Karen took the time to stack in a pyramid shape. Not quite a cake, but close enough.

  “Where did you—how did you—you had balloons?”

  I shoot a triumphant look at Karen, who rolls her eyes at me. “I like to be prepared for anything.”

  “And since I wasn’t with her when she packed this time,” Karen adds, “there was no one to stop her from buying balloons and freaking crepe paper, apparently.”

  “God only knows what else she has in that suitcase,” Daisy adds.

  I look up at Reed but his face is blank, staring around at the arrangement. Maybe it looks skimpier than I thought. “I couldn’t find much food,” I explain hurriedly. “But there are gummy bears and chips to go with the cookies. And a bottle of wine, too.” He still doesn’t respond so I ramble on, feeling really silly now. Was it too much? Would he think I was crazy? “I could go and look in the storage bins again. If there’s something else you want—”

  Suddenly his arms are around me, swinging me up into the air. His chest is rumbling under my cheek and I realize that he’s laughing. “I can’t believe you,” he says. “This is freaking amazing.”

  “Is it?”

  He sets me down but doesn’t release my arms, staring down into my face. His smile is so big it makes my heart clench, and there’s a softness to his eyes that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “Of course, it is. In fact, it’s the best party anyone has ever thrown me.”

  I blush and look away. I know for a fact that Sienna threw him a star-studded birthday party in L.A. last year—I’d seen the pictures in US Weekly. But it was a nice thing for him to say, even if it isn’t quite true.

  “Paige.” I look back up into his face and realize that’s he’s being completely sincere. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Reed.”

  “Can I eat these cookies, or not?” Cash calls, but he doesn’t sound so grumpy anymore.

  I tug on Reed’s hand. “Come on, let’s go celebrate your birthday.”

  We crowd around the little fire, passing the bottle of wine between us and munc
hing on the snacks. We do end up playing Twenty Questions—at Cash’s suggestion—and when we’re tired of that Lennon tells us ghost stories. I’m actually disappointed when the rental cars finally arrive a full hour later. As far as fire-emergency-roadside-picnic-birthday-parties go, this one was pretty damned fabulous, if I do say so myself. As we line up to board the cars, Reed grabs my hand, pulling me back into the darkness, away from the others.

  “That was really cool of you, Paige.”

  It’s too dark to really see his face, but something in his tone has my heart thudding loudly. His hand is still holding mine and I feel that familiar rush of tingles from the place our skin meets. I wish he would let go—and also wish that he would touch me forever.

  “I wanted you to have a nice birthday. You deserve it, Reed.”

  He stares down at me, his face hidden in shadows. Suddenly he’s leaning down, his face becoming visible as it nears mine, and my breathing stops entirely. Is he going to kiss me? He hesitates an inch from my mouth and lets out a little sigh, the most regretful sound, before planting his lips on my cheek. He keeps them there for a long moment before finally pulling away.

  “Thank you.”

  My hands are shaking, my breath coming in shallow gulps. But I square my shoulders and squeeze his hand, not wanting to make anything awkward for him. Not on his birthday.

  “You’re very welcome, Reed.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Reed

  “Holy crap,” Daltrey says, grabbing a beer out of the cooler and popping it open. “That was pretty nuts.”

  “I thought they were going to break the barriers,” Lennon agrees, following Cash into the dressing room.

  I don’t tell them how close it got. From my vantage point on the drum stand, I could see the push of fans surging toward the barrier. It had freaked me out—it looked like the security guards weren’t going to be able to get them pushed back.

  It wasn’t that I was worried about us—we’d had to run from swarming fans before—but I could see only too clearly how easy it would be for people to get trampled. It would have been a disaster—a disaster we desperately did not need. Security and crowd-control have become increasingly problematic on this tour. A few weeks ago, a girl broke her arm when she got shoved into one of the stage barriers. Only a few days later, a crazed fan managed to get back stage and accost Daisy. It was definitely getting out of control.

  “We’re getting more security tomorrow,” Dad says, slamming into the room. “I just got off the phone with the label—again—and let them know we’re not going back on stage until they deal with this.”

  “The venues seem more packed than last tour,” Daltrey says, looking around at us for confirmation. “Don’t they?”

  “I think they’re making a habit of overselling tickets,” Dad says. He looks pretty pissed. “And I know lots of these places have been skimpy on providing bouncers. It’s not safe.”

  “Yeah,” Lennon agrees. “And the last thing we need right now is more bad press if someone gets seriously hurt.” He glares at Cash when he says it and my younger brother gives him an incredulous expression.

  “I would just like to point out that the crowds are growing in spite of my supposed mistakes,” he spat. “So maybe it’s time for everyone to fucking drop it, huh?”

  Lennon looks like he’s going to argue so I hold up my hands to cut him off. I’m not in the mood for another fight tonight. Not for the first time, I wish Levi was here. He had a knack for breaking up all of our fights, big and small. “The point is we need to figure out what to do about the crowd management situation, because it isn’t good and it clearly hasn’t gotten better after the last incident.”

  My dad sighs, running his hands through his hair. “They’re talking about switching locations for some of the later tour dates.”

  “What do you mean?” Cash asks.

  “They’re trying to get you booked in larger venues in some of the cities where ticket sales have been most brisk.”

  “Stadiums?” Cash asks, skeptical.

  “Not stadiums. I don’t think we’re quite there yet. But larger theaters.”

  “Theaters with seats in them,” Daltrey says and then curses when my dad doesn’t answer. “Awesome. Everyone sitting down is exactly the kind of vibe we’re going for.”

  “They’re doing their best—”

  “They did some piss poor planning,” Lennon argues. “If we’re oversold everywhere.”

  I feel another headache coming on. I had been one of the people pushing back against the theater suggestion when we were in the early stages of planning. Like Daltrey, I wanted to preserve the vibe of our shows—general admission, no seats, everyone dancing and moving around. But I hadn’t expected things to get so out of control.

  “All we need are more security guards and stricter protocol about overselling,” I say, feeling tired.

  “I think you’re right, Reed,” Dad says. “Why don’t you and I get on the phone with Dan to New York tomorrow. We can get it figured out.”

  I nod mutely, even though the last thing I feel like doing on my day off is wasting it on a conference call with the suits at the label. I also don’t point out that my dad didn’t ask any of my brothers to participate in the call. Typical—leave it to Reed, he’ll take care of it.

  “All right, boys. Try to relax tonight and we’ll get it sorted.” My dad pauses by the door. “Great show, by the way.”

  There’s a chorus of thanks as he leaves then someone turns on a radio. Slowly the room starts to fill with people eager to help us celebrate our successful performance. I see Daisy and Paige across the room and decide to grab a beer before joining them. Then I see the camera guy enter the room and it’s all I can do not to throw my beer across the room.

  “Hey, Reed,” he says, approaching me with a slightly scared look on his face that makes me wonder how uninviting I look to him. “Would now be a good time to get the shot?”

  “Sure,” I mutter, even though there’s nothing in the world I would rather do less.

  “How about that room in the back,” he says. “If you could just walk back there, we’ll start recording.”

  “Fine.” I take a long gulp of beer, hoping it will give me strength, and set off across the room. I sense the camera guy following me and know that he’s rolling already. It would be a good shot—me leaving the excitement of the party to find a private spot to call my girl.

  I do my best not to grimace at the thought. In all honestly, the situation could be a lot worse. So far being on a reality show hasn’t had a hell of a lot to do with reality. Every shot we’ve done to date has been heavily staged. Often times the camera guys tell me exactly what to do or say. Like in this case—I’m supposed to be calling Sienna after the show to check in. They love stuff like this—me taking breaks from my exciting rock star life to check in. Dutifully pulling my weight in the long distance relationship, making it work.

  It’s such a crock of shit.

  For all of her talk about wanting to try harder, I’ve had very little honest interaction with Sienna since she dropped her pregnancy bombshell. We talk on the phone when the camera crews are there but have little to do with each other without them. Occasionally we’ll text, but that’s mostly to share information relating to the shoot or upcoming appearances. She’s supposed to present at some award show in L.A. in a few weeks and I’ll be flying out for the night to accompany her, before she joins me on the tour for a week. I’m already dreading it.

  As far as the baby goes, she tells me there isn’t much news. She’s puking in the morning but besides one half-hearted attempt at humor relating to the potential for weight loss—she hasn’t talked about it much. I’m going to fly out next week to join her at a doctor’s visit—I already have my itinerary from the film crew. I snort under my breath—I’m sure it will be very personal and special.

  When I reach the back room I do my best to pretend the cameras aren’t there as I make the call to Sienna. Just
one more thing to get through, I tell myself. Just one more thing...

  “Where in the hell are my fries?” Cash asks, rifling through the baskets on the table.

  “Dude, could you get your dirty fingers out of the food?” Lennon asks, pushing his hands aside.

  “I’m just trying to get my—”

  “Your fries are right here,” I mutter, handing him his basket. “Chill.”

  “I needed this,” Daltrey says, looking down longingly at his burger before taking a huge bite. “Omf stahving.”

  “Chew, Daltrey. God.” Lennon grabs his own burger, clearly disgusted with all of his brothers. I can’t blame him. After a long day of rehearsals and interviews I’m every bit as hungry as Cash and Daltrey, but their table manners leave something to be desired.

  “Where’s your camera crew, Reed?” Daltrey asks once he’s actually swallowed his food. He raises his eyebrows, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Or are you actually hanging out with the little people today.”

  “Shut up, Dalt.” My brothers get a huge kick out of the camera crew following me around. The jokes about me being a Hollywood pretty boy are getting pretty old, and it’s only been a few weeks.

  “Seriously,” Lennon asks, looking around. “I haven’t seen them all day. Did they decide you were too busy?”

  “Or too ugly?” Daltrey asks.

  “Yeah, they should be following me around,” Cash adds, puffing out his chest. “It’s a well-known fact that I’m the attractive one.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Lennon mutters, throwing a straw at him. “Could you be any more full of yourself?”

  “Could you all shut the hell up?” I snap, tired of the constant bickering.

  “What’s your problem?” Cash asks.

  “I’m fucking tired and I just want to enjoy my burger, okay?”

  The three of them share a look and I feel like screaming. I love my brothers, obviously, but sometimes I wonder if I might not end up hating them all, what with the excessive time we spend together.