by Riley Scott
For a minute, he said nothing, but she could hear soft sniffling.
“I’m on your side. I think you have what it takes,” she added, giving him a while to compose himself. “I’ll get permission from your heavies, sign whatever papers I need to sign, fly you out to my next stop in Phoenix, you and I can have lunch and then we’ll warm up with the band. You will play with us in the show, if you want.”
“Thank you,” he said again, his voice struggling to maintain composure and act tough. “That would be so awesome.”
They talked through schedules and details. Raven was certain she wanted to do this before he started his next round of therapy in two weeks. He was well at the moment. Her heart soared when, as long as it was approved, he agreed to fly out of Detroit to make it in time for her concert in Phoenix on Thursday night.
After talking to the appropriate authorities, she hung up. The process would have been much harder with many homes that adhered more strictly to procedure and with a child who wasn’t almost a cast-aside adult, but she was thankful. With a few clicks on her phone, she purchased his flight and sent him the information. The kid had four days to get packed and prepared.
She knew it wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but she hoped it would show him a reason to fight and give him hope that he wasn’t in the battle alone. She often scrolled through message boards from these homes. The pages were littered with short blurbs, photos, personal details, looking more like a flyer for a used car lot than anything else. Even so, she read each post wishing there was some way she could help. Today, when she had read Ryland’s story and saw his video, she knew she could finally do something to make a difference. On a mission, she bounded back to the bus.
“We’re having company in Phoenix,” she announced on the bus. Excitedly, she told them all about Ryland. She watched their reactions to the video on her phone, jaws dropping as they listened to a seventeen-year-old, self-taught kid play better than many of the professionals they knew. When the song ended, she looked around the room to a slew of affirming smiles.
“Good work,” Frank said, reaching up to pat her on the shoulder. She nodded, keeping it together until she glanced at Paul grinning at her in pride. He knew and understood the driving force better than anyone. He knew where she came from and why this was important to her.
Having been her best friend during her years in foster care, he knew. While he had been afforded the stability of his own family, he had been her sounding board through all of the hurt and pain that went with being tossed from home to home. And he certainly knew of the neglect and verbal abuse she had endured. She felt the sting of fresh tears in the corner of her eye, as she silently gave him a half smile and looked away.
“That’s great,” Christina chimed in. Raven turned her attention to the slender blonde, noting her genuine smile as well as her sharp, high cheekbones, which suggested she hadn’t been eating or sleeping enough. Even so, her green eyes sparkled in the light. The words were tumbling out of Christina’s mouth too quickly for Raven to keep up. “We could get the press to cover Thursday’s show. I could send a release tomorrow morning so it hits their desk first thing on a Monday morning. That would give them time to get crews out there to cover the show.”
“No,” Raven cut in authoritatively, holding up her hand to quash the idea before it took off. Her movements silenced both Frank and Christina. “This is about Ryland—not about publicity. I just want to help him. I won’t cheapen that with a press release.”
For a split second, it looked like Christina might protest, but she nodded. “No, you’re absolutely right and that makes me incredibly proud to work with you.”
Christina smiled up at her and Raven offered a half smile in return.
This was for Ryland only. This was for a kid who had nothing and no one—except for cancer and a dream. She recognized his need too much not to help.
* * *
For the first time in several months, Raven was up before either an alarm or a knock on the door. Her heart fluttered and her excitement tangled with nervousness in the bathroom. As she applied her eyeliner, she let herself consider all that today meant to her. She refused to let Ryland’s visit drag her down her own memory lane. This was his day and she wouldn’t cheapen it. She had come a long way and so would he.
She took a glance in the mirror, caring more what she looked like this morning than usual. Not that she wanted to impress or dazzle—she simply wanted to be who she needed to be. Today, she was the adult and she hoped that she could pull it off. Nodding to herself, she turned and walked out into the open area of the bus. Paul stood waiting by the door, dressed and ready to go.
“I need to do this part alone,” she told him, shaking her head.
For a second, he looked hurt. He turned his head to the side, raising an eyebrow, questioning her insistence.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He’s been in and out of foster homes. I did some digging and made a few calls. He’s been tossed around since he was a toddler and has caused some trouble. Some family took him in a couple of years ago and the only thing the lady reported was that whenever they tried to get close to him, he pushed back and started getting into trouble at school. Eventually the family gave up. He’s not the trusting type from what I’ve heard and will probably be a little gun-shy if anyone pushes too hard.” She gently elbowed Paul in the ribs and smiled. “I once knew a kid like that back in the day.”
“I know. I know.”
“Judging from how I was and this kid’s rap sheet, you and I both know that he likely has the propensity to run if ambushed. Hell, we know that I sure did. Even you did for a while as some sort of teenage rebellion despite living with your parents. Chances are, he’s no different.”
“He might be and I worry about your safety.”
“He’s not a monster,” she said, placing a hand on her hip and holding her ground. “I won’t budge on this. He’s a kid. A foster kid. With cancer. I’ll be fine and he’ll be happier if he’s not bombarded by all of us at once.”
Paul narrowed his eyes, grabbing the door handle as though he might block her way out of the bus.
“Don’t you dare,” she said sternly. “You know I’m perfectly capable. I’ll be bringing him back here after I pick him up and get to know him just a bit. Then and only then, can you step in and play big brother. Maybe you can bring him some fun snacks. We all know that’s how you won me over back in the day—bringing stuff too frivolous and expensive to be found in a home with thirty other kids. Bring him gummy bears. Those were always my favorite.”
She sidestepped him and made a beeline for the door.
Once in the cab, she directed the driver to the airport. Just as she wanted this to be an authentic experience for Ryland devoid of any publicity stunts, she wanted him to feel comfortable.
Her mind drifted back through the years and she remembered in vivid detail the way her palms would sweat and her voice would shake when she’d received too much attention. She also remembered the way she could turn into a snotty little brat, her jagged edges warding off anyone who ventured too close. She remembered the way she had hidden behind her microphone. It was for protection and she had relied upon it at least until she had become emboldened, realizing that she could keep the world at arm’s length with her behavior alone.
There was little doubt in her mind that Ryland would be in the same boat. Dealing with most of these kids was a bit like approaching a wild animal.
The cab pulled up curbside to a young, tall, blond-headed boy in faded jeans, a black Rolling Stones T-shirt and a backward cap. Leaning casually on his guitar case with his duffel at his feet, he looked side to side, taking in his surroundings. Raven threw open the door.
“Ryland!” she called out, waving at him as she approached.
She stopped in her tracks when he turned, nodded and broke into a wide smile.
“Yes,” he said after a moment, extending his hand for a handshake. “It’
s nice to meet you.”
His voice was gentle and she marveled at how polite he was. At seventeen, she was anything but polite. This kid was something special.
“It’s nice to meet you, as well,” she said, returning the handshake. “Let’s grab your stuff and go get some food. After a five-hour flight, I bet you’re starving.”
He nodded again, his smile a mixture of starstruck awe and confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just…” he started, but shook his head, grabbing his bags instead.
“It’s okay,” she coaxed.
“I just guess it’s really strange to actually meet someone famous,” he said, shrugging and smiling sheepishly. “I’ve always been a big fan of your music and this is great.”
“I’m very happy you’re here,” she said, walking around the car to get in beside him.
On the drive to the restaurant, she was careful to only talk about superficial things. There needed to be no talk of cancer, no talk of their mutual background. Instead, they needed to focus on fun things. After all, that’s why he was here, to give him a break from the brutal reality. She listened as his words tumbled out quickly.
They talked music and cars and food and before she knew it, two hours had passed. They had finished lunch in a blur and she clung to the fact that, even if just for a day, Ryland was going to get a taste of a life worth fighting for.
“Are you ready to join the band?” she asked, when they arrived back at the bus.
He turned, looking out of the cab window, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the massive vehicle. “This is what it’s like?” he asked, his voice now nothing more than a whisper.
“This is what it’s like,” she affirmed. “At least, after a while. There’s a lot of time prior to this stage, where it’s basement playing and hopping around from club to club, begging people to let you play your music, even if they don’t pay you. Once you hit it big, you get to travel around and play at incredible venues. There are also other options for touring. You could fly from spot to spot. But this is what it’s like for me. And what it could be like for you some day.”
“It’s real.” His voice held disbelief as he reached up to touch the glass of the car window tenderly.
“It is,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulders. “It’s real and from the way you play, it could be real for you too one day. Tonight, it will be real for you.”
He turned back to face her, his face set and hardened as stone. He held his breath and set his jaw to keep tears at bay, but Raven could see the moisture building.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, reading his nonverbal statement of gratitude and again patting him on the back. “Let’s go have some fun.”
She walked a few steps behind him, marveling at the way he was seeing this world for the first time—and recalling how she once held that same look of wonder, back before this was normalcy, back when all she had was a backpack, a couple of outfits and a guitar.
* * *
Taking advantage of a rare quiet morning, Chris had indulged herself with pampering. Raven didn’t want her tagging along, so she had opted for an at-home—or on-bus—facial, foot soak and manicure, all in her tiny, shoebox-sized room. They had arrived in Phoenix a night early so Raven could be rested and have the day with the boy. That had meant an entire day, parked in front of the night’s venue and an entire day in which the crew and driver had made a run for it.
They had all poured from the bus at first light, as if they were sailors in port for the first time in months. She was left to her own devices. Of course, she could have opted to explore the city like the others, but her energy was drained. Desperate for rest, she had chosen a morning of solitude.
When she heard the car outside, she peeked out the window. A smile spread across her face as she watched Raven and the boy laughing together. They looked like a tight-knit family, a brother-sister duo having a day of fun together. Here was the rough-around-the-edges, show-no-weakness woman letting down her guard and dancing, roughhousing and cutting up with a teenage boy.
Chris stayed in her room. It was impossible not to eavesdrop in these close quarters, but she didn’t want to break up their moment. And she didn’t want to miss out on this unguarded, soft side of Raven.
“Tonight, when I play with you, are you going to tell the crowd why I’m there?” she could hear Ryland’s voice coming through the walls. It was deep, making him sound much older than he was, but his exhilaration made it obvious that he was still just a boy.
“I sure am,” Raven answered, with a laugh. “I’m going to tell them that you’re my friend Ryland and that I invited you out here to join us so the rest of the world could hear the incredible music you make.”
“You’re not going to mention the cancer thing?” His tone turned more hesitant and Chris waited for Raven’s response.
“Of course not,” she answered quickly. “That’s not what this is about. This is about the fact that I’ve heard you kill a guitar solo better than Slash. I’ve heard you rock it and I think you’ve got a future in this. That’s what this is about. It’s about you having a chance to fully shine.”
“Thank you.” Chris could barely make out his whisper.
She felt a pang of guilt strike through her gut. Raven was right. Chris had wanted to make it more, make it a publicity stunt, but Raven’s heart was in the right place. This was a poor, helpless, innocent kid facing a devastating disease—not someone to exploit. She reminded herself that she had perhaps been a little too quick to judge Raven and maybe a little too focused on her own motives.
Leaning against her door, she listened to the ease of their conversation. They started playing together. A melodic, beautiful sound filled the air, as Ryland played the guitar and Raven sang along to a cover of Warrant’s “Heaven.” The powerful chords and soulful vocals created a haunting rendition.
Ryland joined in the vocals and the pair belted out the touching lyrics about not needing to be a superhero as long as they had love. They sang of being closer to heaven within that connection, of loss and of never giving up on that love. It seemed like an odd choice to duet with a kid who didn’t have a home, or the connections the song spoke of, but as the song progressed, Chris replayed the revelation that made the song even more powerful. Home wasn’t a place. Heaven wasn’t a place. It was this. It was what the two of them were sharing right then and there.
When the song came to a close, Chris knew that Raven had also been right about the kid’s talent. The two of them went to meet the band for sound check. She looked out the window to watch them exit, Raven’s arm draped around his shoulders as they walked in step with one another.
Chris wiped at her tears. This was an emotional situation and Raven was handling it like a professional, like someone whose heart was big. Even more than that, the two of them seemed to have a genuine connection, something Chris hadn’t been sure Raven was capable of forming.
The show went off without a hitch and Ryland was a natural on stage. Raven had been right. Even more surprising to Chris though was Raven’s genteel approach where Ryland was concerned. Instead of being the party-hard rock star, she had ushered all those wanting to party after the show to a nearby hotel and had opted to take Ryland out for dinner by herself.
Throughout her quiet night on the bus, having also forgone the opportunity to party, Chris smiled as she reflected upon the exchange she had overheard between the two of them following the show. Not only had Raven encouraged the boy in his dream to pursue music, but she had insisted that he keep in touch—a clear indicator that this was far from a stunt.
Chapter Six
A loud banging jolted Chris out of a deep sleep and as she rose quickly, the sun streaming through the curtains intensified the pounding in her head. Unsure what had woken her, she sighed heavily, realizing that according to her alarm clock she should have had at least another half hour to sleep. She heard shuffling down the hall as the rest of the crew rose as well
. Knowing one of them would handle it, she contemplated going back to sleep but then thought better of it.
“I’m too damn old for this,” she muttered, her hangover worsening with every move. She was far too old to be partying like the college kid she once was and she was too old to be sleeping on a bus.
Chris stretched her sore muscles and smiled despite the pain. She might be too old, but she had to admit she was having fun. It had been a week-long party, with only that one night off during Ryland’s visit. As it was, she had been drunk to hungover more times this past week than she had since college. With as much focus as her tired body would allow, she stretched and did her workout—something she had adapted to such small living quarters. When she finished, she glanced in the mirror on the back of her door, wishing she had been able to work with as much tenacity as she did in the gym back home.
Shaking her head, she made her way to the bathroom. She recalled the previous night and every night since she had arrived and chuckled as she pulled herself together to look presentable before she joined the rest of the band for the day ahead. It was going to take some time to adjust. But it was amusing.
When she opened her door, her eyes widened. Even after a few days on board, she hadn’t adapted to the lack of boundaries. Standing in the shared space of the bus in nothing more than his boxers, Joe was eating a bowl of cereal while watching YouTube videos on his phone.
“Morning,” he called, a dribble of milk coming from his lips.
“Good morning.”
Joe chewed, swallowed and eyed her curiously. “Are you all ready for your big day of girl time?” he asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, nodding and turning to head into the bathroom.
“You better be ready.” She heard Raven’s voice behind her. “We’ve got a full day of bonding planned. Frank even made me block out normal practice times, so I’m yours all day.”
