Release: A Ransom Novel

by Rachel Schurig

  Lennon looks around the room. “Who is the hell do you think is going to recognize you here?” The tables in our area are filled exclusively with little old men and ladies with white hair. We saw a huge group of them piling out of a tour bus when we got here. I have a feeling spring months aren’t as big of a tourist draw for the town that thrives as a family destination during the holidays. “Unless you have a secret fan base of old ladies you aren’t telling us about.”

  “Ha ha,” Daltrey says, sounding rather grumpy. Daisy rolls her eyes and plops another chicken breast on his plate to keep him occupied.

  “What’s next?” she asks me. “The Christmas store?”

  I frown, going over our options. “Maybe we should walk around the town itself before we go there. It’s on the way back to the highway.”

  “What is there to see here?” Daltrey asks.

  “Little stores, I guess. I know they’re famous for their cheese and fudge. And there’s a riverboat ride we could do.”

  He places his hands over his heart. “Cheese and fudge? A riverboat ride with a busload of retirees? Stop, Paige, you’ll give me a heart attack with all this excitement.”

  I point a spoonful of mashed potatoes at him. “You suck.”

  Once we’re out in the early spring sunshine, Daltrey manages to amuse himself. The entire town is Bavarian themed, from the architecture to the names of the shops. He and Lennon find it hilarious to walk around speaking with over-the-top German war movie accents, ignoring the glares from the older tourists. “It’s a good thing none of these people know who we are,” Reed mutters to me. “All the entertainment sites would be reporting what obnoxious assholes my brothers are by evening.”

  “They’re kind of funny,” I tell him, watching as Daltrey gives a nonsensical running commentary of the fudge making demonstration happening in the nearest shop window. He looks completely out of place, with his tattoos and piercings, and his fake German accent is absolutely ridiculous.

  “Yeah, hilarious,” Reed mutters.

  Just then, the frailest old lady I’ve ever seen approaches him and pokes him in the back with the handle of her cane. I’m sure she’s about to tell him off for being disrespectful and, though she’s hunched over and comes barely to his chest, Daltrey looks terrified of that possibility as well.

  Instead, she grins at him. “You’re that Daltrey Ransome, aren’t you?”

  I have to cover my mouth with my hands to cover the snort of laughter at Dalt’s bemused expression. “Uh, yeah, I am.”

  “My grandkids love you,” she says, pulling a smart phone from her oversized brown purse. “Take one of those selfies with me.”

  Daisy is laughing so hard she has to duck into the fudge shop as Daltrey, a completely bemused expression on his face, hunches over a bit to match the woman’s height. They both smile into the phone as Daltrey snaps the picture. The old lady pats his chest. “That’s a good boy. My Kristina will have a fit when she sees this.” Before he can straighten she places a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.

  “Holy shit,” Daltrey mutters as the lady hobbles away to her waiting friends. “Did I just take a selfie with someone’s grandma?”

  “I think you did, buddy,” I tell him. “We’re going to need your cool card back now.”

  “If anyone breathes a word of this to Cash I will kill you,” he snarls. He points at Daisy, still giggling, as she joins us on the sidewalk. “That goes for you, too.”

  “I think maybe that’s a sign it’s time to get off the streets,” Reed says. “We don’t need a mob of crazed grannies chasing Dalt down the sidewalk.”

  Laughing at the slightly dazed but furious look on Daltrey’s face, I point toward the parking lot where we dropped the van. “I think it’s time for some Christmas fun.”

  The store is even bigger than I had anticipated, easily covering thousands of feet. “There must be so much Christmas goodness in there,” I squeal.

  We pile out of the car and cross the parking lot, Benny and Frank flanking us. I wonder how much attention we’re attracting, but the parking lot is nearly empty on a weekday in early March. “Holy crap,” Daltrey says as we enter the store. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

  It’s exactly as I expected it to be. Filled to the brim with ornaments, fake trees, decorations, nativity scenes—you could get lost in this place. I imagine what it must be like when it’s actually Christmas time and make a mental note to get back up here someday.

  “It’s like Christmas puked in here,” Lennon mutters, looking around with wide eyes.

  “It’s pretty!”

  We wander aimlessly for about fifteen minutes when Daltrey finally turns to me. “Okay. I’m going to need one of your Paige games here.”

  “Really? How are you not having fun? Look, they have an entire wall of music themed ornaments.”

  “That’s awesome and all,” he says. “But I honestly don’t give a shit. I’m bored.”

  “Shh,” Daisy says, pushing her hand over his mouth. “You can’t swear in here. The staff wears Victorian costumes for God’s sake.”

  “We could play I Spy,” I suggest.

  “Okay,” Lennon says tonelessly. “Let me guess first—you spy an ornament. Who’s turn is it now? Reed? You spy an ornament, too.”

  I can’t help but laugh. He does have a point—there’s not a lot of variety in here. It’s pretty much all Christmas stuff, which, of course, is the whole point. “Come on,” I tell him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s go find the Christmas villages. Maybe there will be trains.”

  The Christmas villages end up being just the thing to keep Daltrey and Lennon occupied. The giant displays are incredibly detailed, with moving figures and real lights. “Good call,” Daisy tells me in an undertone. “These are basically toys. And Daltrey and Lennon, as you well know, are children.”

  Daltrey’s little squeal of excitement when he notices the working train circling the display proves her point pretty explicitly. “Come and see this, Dais,” he calls excitedly. She rolls her eyes at me and goes to join him.

  “Well,” Reed says, once she’s gone. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

  “It’s better,” I tell him, looking around happily. “I know it’s not the most exotic location, and maybe it wasn’t the best choice for a couple of rock stars, but I think it’s perfect.”

  “Why?” he sounds genuinely curious, not at all judgmental—which is a nice change. I get judgment a lot. People tend not to get why I get so excited about stuff. But Reed’s eyes are searching my face, as if he sincerely wants to know what I’m thinking.

  “Because it’s out of the ordinary,” I tell him. “I like things that are out of the ordinary—that’s the most fun part of life. Finding the things you weren’t expecting, the things you aren’t used to.” I wave my arms around to encompass the store. “Just think about the people who own this place—they must really love it. You don’t put all this effort into a Christmas store unless Christmas is, like, your favorite thing. I like that they’re sharing that with everyone. It’s like the Cadillac Ranch or the Jell-O museum. The people who started those places might be kind of weird, but they really love Cadillacs and Jell-O. It makes them happy. It gives them a purpose. And they want to share that.” I shrug, feeling slightly embarrassed by my enthusiasm. “I just think that’s cool.”

  He doesn’t respond right away, just continues to stare at me. His gaze is so intense I start to feel shy. Maybe he’s judging me after all. Maybe he’s another in a long line of people who find my attitude about life to be just a little too much. But then he shakes his head, an expression I can’t quite read coming across his face. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You’re surprising me? Why?”

  “Because I want to do something nice for you, something so you’ll remember this day.”

  I still feel off balance by his expression. “Why?” I repeat.

/>   “Because everything you just said is amazing.” He shakes his head again as if he doesn’t quite believe me. “The way you look at the world amazes me. I’ve spent my entire life trying to write songs that will touch people and what you just said—about a freaking Christmas store and a Jell-O museum—is one of the most touching things I’ve ever heard. And you just said it, like it’s no big deal.”

  Feeling beyond embarrassed now, I look away. “It isn’t a big deal. I’m probably just being silly—”

  “No, Paige.” He reaches down and touches my face, just a brief, fleeting moment, but it’s enough to make me look into his face, really look. And the expression there when he looks down at me takes my breath away. It’s like he can see into my heart, into my brain, into the secret hidden places that make me, me. And not only can he view those places, he actually likes what he sees. “You’re a lot of things, but you aren’t silly.” His voice, that low rumble that I love so much, sends a shiver down my spine. “Now, come on.”

  “What about them?” I manage to squeak, pointing at his brothers, currently entranced by an ice skating figurine that actually moves.

  “They’ll find us.”

  He stands before me, arm extended, a smile on his face, asking me to come with him. Without another thought, I slip my arm through his and follow him wherever he chooses to lead me.

  He wants to buy me an ornament—that’s his surprise. He leads me over to the racks and racks of baubles and tells me he wants me to pick my very favorite one. “Then you’ll always have something to remember today.”

  Looking up into his face, feeling the nearness of him, I know I’ll never need help remembering the day. But it’s a very sweet thought so I thank him and start examining the ornaments in closer detail. After a few minutes, I look to him nervously. “You know, there’s no way in the world I’m going to be able to pick. There are way too many. And I’m not exactly known for my restraint and decision making skills.”

  He laughs. “What if I pick one that makes me think of you, and you pick one that makes you think of me? Then we can switch.”

  It sounds like as good a plan as any, so I agree and set off in search of an ornament that makes me think of Reed. My first thought is the music section. They have ornaments in the shape of drums, guitars, music notes. Any of them would work, I suppose, but they seem pretty generic. Reed is a hell of a lot more than a musician. So I turn away from the instruments and continue my search.

  Across the aisle, there’s a display of beach themed ornaments. Santa in a bathing suit, little palm trees with Christmas lights. It hits me immediately, what I should get him and I jog over to the display in excited anticipation. I see what I’m looking for after only a few short minutes—a miniature sandcastle, complete with turrets and ramparts. It isn’t quite as awesome as the one we made in Mexico, but it will work. I take the ornament up to the registers and pay, feeling proud of myself.

  “Paige!” Reed calls, waving at me from the entryway. He’s already holding a little plastic bag in his hands. “You took forever.”

  “I wanted to get it right,” I tell him, holding out the bag.

  “I knew what to pick for you right away,” he says smugly, taking the bag and passing me his. “You first.”

  This feels almost as exciting as Christmas itself. I pull out the white cardboard box and reach inside. When the ornament falls out into my hand, I take one look and burst out laughing.

  “What?” he says, sounding hurt. “I thought that was really meaningful!”

  “Open yours,” I say, pointing at the other bag. He pulls his ornament from the box inside and snorts before holding up the sandcastle, identical to the one I now hold in my hand.

  “Great minds think alike,” he says, grinning broadly.

  “I guess so.”

  He leans forward, brushing his lips across my forehead. “Thank you, Paige. That’s definitely a day I want to remember.”

  Without worrying about the consequences, I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him. “Me, too,” I whisper in his ear. “It will always remind me of how good you are at making other people happy.”

  “And how good you are at taking a bad situation and making it fantastic,” he whispers back. “I’ll think of you every time I look at it.”

  I release him, trying not to imagine a scenario in which he hangs the ornament from a tree he shares with Sienna. The moment is too special, and I don’t want to mar it by thinking of her.

  “There you are,” Daltrey calls and I turn to see the three of them approaching. “We couldn’t find you.”

  “Sorry,” Reed explains, taking a step back from me. I suddenly feel slightly guilty, as if we were doing something wrong. “We didn’t want to disturb your toy shopping.”

  “We’re all Christmased out,” Lennon says, ignoring the jab. “I’m afraid we’re going to go insane and start breaking shit just to balance out the crazy glut of cheer in here.”

  “I’m ready,” I tell them and Lennon visibly sighs in relief.

  “Do you really like your ornament?” Reed asks as we head back out to the van.

  “I love it,” I tell him happily, swinging my little plastic bag. “Do you like yours?”

  “It’s only my favorite ornament, like, ever.” I know he’s kind of making fun of me, but he sounds so funny when he tries to imitate my voice that I just laugh.

  We reach the van and start to file in. Daisy and Daltrey again take the front bench and Reed takes the back seat by the window. I follow him to the back, thinking Lennon will sit up front with the others, but he comes up right behind me. “Scoot into the middle, Paige,” he says. “I’m not sitting next to those two. They’re cuddling.”

  “I got kissed by a ninety-year-old today,” Daltrey shoots back. “You’d need a little cuddle too.”

  With all three of us in the back, I find myself crowded right into Reed’s side. Exactly what I need for the ninety-minute ride home. But he doesn’t seem at all perturbed. In fact, he takes my hand briefly, squeezing it as we pull out of the parking lot. “That’s the most relaxed I’ve been since we left Mexico,” he tells me. “Thanks, Paige.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  He nods, his face soft in the growing darkness. “Seriously. I had a great day.”

  I smile up at him. “So did I.”

  His grin grows as he releases my hand. Am I imagining it, or does he move slightly closer to me on the bench? The length of his arm is pressing against mine and I’m practically leaning into his body. I feel warm, and safe, and incredibly comfortable, so I decide to just relax and enjoy the ride.

  “I’m glad,” he says, resting the side of his face against the top of my head. I breathe in a deep breath of his scent, of the nearness of him.

  We don’t move the entire way home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Reed

  As the tour swings west and spring slowly starts showing signs of its eventual arrival, the rest of the band and crew seem to be in particularly good moods. The crazy amount of press around Cash’s escapades has diminished considerably and, consequently, we’re getting less pressure and interference from the suits in New York. Our dad, to my very great surprise, has kept up his promise to allow us more time off, meaning we’re actually getting the chance to see some of the cities we travel through—unlike the last tour, when we were basically shuttled from venue to radio or television station and back.

  Daltrey spent most of the first tour being a whiney little bitch. The travel and work load was rough on him, and he was depressed about the absence of Daisy. With the added time to relax and recoup, he’s like a different person now, as if he actually enjoys his job again. I’m sure having Daisy along for the ride is a big factor there. Cash seems happier than usual as well—the increased time off apparently giving him more opportunities to man-whore. And the heavy ticket sales and crowd’s enthusiasm seems to have everyone—from Dad right on down to the most junior roadie—feeling positive about our work.

>   Paige and Daisy, in particular, seem to be having the time of their lives. Daisy has completely taken over the merchandise sector—in addition to selling our wares at shows, she’s now in charge of inventory, ordering, and even the design decision-making. Every time I see her darting around the venues she looks busy and tired, but completely happy. Paige, too, seems to have fallen into a groove with her work-study. I find myself watching her often as she converses with Dan and Dad, showing them her designs and getting instructions for projects. When she’s working, she seems almost like a different person—not at all scattered, or silly. Rather she’s professional and organized. I wonder if the creative aspect of this job allows her an outlet for her energy.

  And then I wonder why I’m thinking about her so much at all.

  Out of everyone on tour, I’m probably the one with the worst attitude. It takes virtually nothing to set me off these days. I snap at my brothers, at the roadies, at Dad. I complain that no one is working as hard as I am. That they’re coasting because things seem to be going well. That they’re immature and spending too much time dicking around when we could be practicing. I’m tired and I’m grumpy and, more than anything else, I’m sick to death of having cameras follow me around.

  “You don’t seem like yourself, lately,” Paige said to me the other day when I responded to her morning greeting with a curt nod of my head. There was no judgment in her voice, no hurt that I wasn’t treating her well. She merely watched me with those wide, concerned eyes. “What’s bothering you so much, Reed?”

  It’s that very question that’s occupying my mind during our morning rehearsal in Portland. When I miss my cue, I curse in frustration and toss my sticks aside.

  “You’re off, Reed,” Daltrey calls out from his piano. “You totally missed the fill.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” I mutter, cracking my knuckles. “Won’t happen again.”

  “Ah, fuck it,” Cash says, swinging his guitar off his shoulder. “This is as good a time for a break as any.”

  “We’ve only been playing for a half hour,” Lennon points out.