They nodded, and I followed Tony as he unlocked the bus and went up the stairs, careful to close the door softly behind myself.
We stayed at the front, away from the bunks. He dropped into the driver’s seat and gestured at me to take the passenger one beside him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, and it was that he was concerned and not mad that kept me from bursting into embarrassed tears. Whatever I told him, I knew he was on my side because he was a great guy and I’d given him no reason not to trust me. I just hoped he wouldn’t think less of me because of where I came from.
And that I’d hid it from him.
I glanced out through the windshield at the Marshals and then back at him, looking him straight in the eye because I wanted him to know that even though I’d kept my family stuff a secret, I was telling him the truth now. “I don’t have time to tell you the whole story, obviously, but the short version is that my father’s a crook. He’s a money launderer, famous in some crime circles for what he can do to keep other crooks rich and out of jail.”
Tony just stared at me as all this seemed to soak in.
“But I spoke to your father. He seemed...”
“Like a stand-up guy,” I said, nodding my head because I’d heard it before. “I know. He can be really charming. And slippery as it gets.”
Tony nodded and seemed resigned to hear the truth. “Okay. So...”
I shrugged. “I don’t know the details yet of what he’s done specifically, but I’m guessing that while I’ve been with you, Nessa, and the guys on this real bus, he’s thrown me under his figurative one.”
Hugs
Twenty-nine million dollars. Twenty-nine. Million. Dollars.
That’s how much money I—a seventeen-year-old who had never had a paying job in her life—had sitting in her bank account. That bank account that I’d been told not to use.
Gee, Dad, you think maybe that’s what tipped the feds off? Also, thanks for not just using me but not bothering to let me know they were coming for me (those half-assed attempts to get a hold of me via a throwaway cell don’t count, in case you thought they did). Especially when you were in hiding, but I was easy to find, thanks to my vlog, social media, and cluelessness. Not to mention that declined Visa charge in Portland that enabled them to ping me and see where I was.
Not that I would have tried to run away or hide, but a heads up might have been nice. Of course, looking back now, I realized my parents had always been selfish. It had just never been so obvious before that they were so okay with being not just non-existent parents, but total crap parents.
So yeah, to say I was angry, spitting, hitting things angry, was an understatement. But thanks to Tony and his excellent connections, including a lawyer in town who was on her way to meet us at the police station, I felt confident that I likely wasn’t going to spend the rest of my days behind bars for something my father did and had dragged me into without my knowledge or, obviously, consent.
He was such a jerk. My stepmother was involved, too, so I had to reserve some of my anger for her.
My only satisfaction was imagining that they’d forcibly dragged her out of her spa retreat and she was now rotting in a filthy cell somewhere with chipped nails and clogged pores, waiting for extradition. How’s that for a sensory deprivation tank?
Model parents, they were not. I’d never really thought they were, but now? They were pretty much dead to me. No Christmas card from Sandrine this year. But that thought took me to a new place: where would I be at Christmas? There was not even a slim chance that any portion of that twenty-nine mil was going to be left behind to take care of me. Surely it would be seized while my parents shelled out what money they did have to lawyers.
What did that mean for me? Not to be selfish, but hello?
“You okay?” Gary said, drawing my attention out of my own head back to him. Tony’d had to stay behind with the band at the venue (but only after making sure I didn’t mind, which of course I hadn’t, because how could I impose more than I already had?), so he’d woken Gary up to accompany me to the police station to wait for the lawyer. I hated that Gary got dragged into this, too, but I realized it couldn’t be helped.
Being a minor did have some advantages, I guess. Sitting in an interview room waiting to be interrogated was bad enough, but I was thankful not to have to do it alone. Knowing a lawyer was coming definitely helped, too.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” We probably both knew I was lying. I sighed and added, “Just really tired.”
Gary just nodded, but he had to be tired, too, since this was his night. It couldn’t be fun for him to be losing sleep just to sit in a police station.
“Sorry,” I said.
He shook his head. “Not your doing. Don’t apologize.” He shrugged. “I’ll sleep enough when I’m dead.”
I laughed and cringed at the same time. “Don’t say that.” My voice sounded brittle to my ears. Which seemed about right because I felt brittle, barely held together.
“It’ll be fine, Sandy,” Gary said, reading my mind. “I promise. Tony will make it so.”
“He’s not my dad,” I pointed out. “He has no reason to take care of me.” Though my actual dad didn’t bother and he did have a reason.
Gary leaned across the table toward me, holding my eyes with his intense gaze. I realized for the first time his eyes were hazel—it was dark at the front of the bus, and I guess I’d never really noticed. “You listen to me,” he said in a stern tone, so different from the lazy, easygoing voice he used when we chatted on the bus. “He may not be your father, but he has plenty of reason to take care of you. So do I. We always look after each other, and you’re one of us, understand me?”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat and nodded.
“Not everyone gets dealt the best parents in life, but you could not do any better than Tony Capri as a stand-in father.”
“I know,” I squeaked. “And you, too.”
He gave me a sad smile. “Thanks. I’m sorry that you’re going through this with your family, but we’ll get you through, okay? We will be your family, and we’ll get you through.”
I let out a long breath, feeling more comforted and safe than I had in a very long time, a huge burden that I hadn’t even realized I was carrying, suddenly lifted off my shoulders.
Was this how people with loving parents felt all the time? Because if it was, I suddenly realized just how much I’d been missing.
Before I knew what I was doing, I got up from my chair, went around the table, and launched myself into Gary’s arms, grateful to finally have someone to really lean on.
Hours later, after I answered a million questions and managed to convince the Marshals that I was not connected in any way to my parents’ activities (other than the bank account in my name that my father kept funneling money into) and had no knowledge of any specifics, I was released into Tony’s care with him acting as an interim semi-official guardian.
Victoria Carlisle, my new legal counsel (!) assured the Marshals and the lady from social services who had arrived in time to ask me a ton of questions of her own, that I was being well taken care of and had been touring with the band with my parents’ consent, for whatever that was worth. So while I was told I might have to testify down the road, for the time being, as long as I was with Tony and could be contacted if they needed me, I was free to go.
Still, the entire experience left me rattled; while my current day to day wasn’t going to change, the rest of my life would in ways I couldn’t even imagine. That my parents were probably both going to jail was inconceivable. That I was suddenly talking to a lawyer who used words like emancipation, legal guardians, and civil suit, was beyond inconceivable.
So by the time Gary and I returned to the bus and got out of the back of the hired car, I was, as Max would put it, wrung out. My plan was to just roll into my bunk and blast some music on my earphones until the urge to just lie in the fetal position passed. I figured that would happen someti
me next month. Or maybe next year.
Gary unlocked the door and waved toward the stairs for me to precede him on board. Except as I trudged up the stairs, I realized we were not alone.
Max was sitting at the table in the kitchenette, looking as emotionally drained as I felt. There was a piece of paper and a pen in front of him, but when he looked at me, he casually folded up the sheet and stuffed it in his back jeans pocket.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I made my way over and took the seat across from him.
He glanced from me to Gary and back. “Fine,” he lied.
“I’m heading to bed, kids,” Gary said, “Unless you need anything?”
Like he hadn’t done enough?
“I think we’re good,” I said.
“Okay,” he said and then looked into my eyes pointedly. “Wake me up if you need me, okay?”
I nodded and then without another word, he headed to the back of the bus, which was our cue to quiet down.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Max said, sliding out of the booth.
I really, really just wanted some time to myself, but couldn’t bring myself to abandon Max when he obviously wanted company, so I just nodded and followed him out of the bus, making sure my bus key was in my pocket as we made our way out into the sunshine.
“Where to?” I asked, resisting the urge to ask him if he shouldn’t be rehearsing with the band. I figured Tony had given him a free pass for the afternoon.
Max shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” But then he started down a street. I didn’t care where we went, so without comment, I fell into step beside him.
“So, how was it?” I asked when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to broach the subject.
He glanced over and then back down at the sidewalk. “Horrible.”
“Really?”
“Sort of. Not really. But yeah.”
I lifted my eyebrows at his answer. Or, non-answer, as it was.
He shook his head and snorted a little. “Sorry. Yeah. It was okay, I guess. Probably better than it could have been and no worse than I should have expected. Dr. Carmichael was cool and...it just brought a lot to the surface.”
“I think it’s supposed to,” I said softly. “That’s the point, right?”
“I know. It’s just hard.”
“If it wasn’t, you would have dealt with it by now.”
“I guess.”
A moment later, when the silence almost got awkward, he gently took my hand, his fingers twining between mine. I both wanted to shake him off and pull him closer at the same time.
Before I could formulate what I should do, he said, “Is this...is this okay, Sandy? I’m not trying to make a play for you right now, I swear, I just...I just...” he let out a few curses and looked away before he admitted in a tiny voice, “I just need the connection. I feel like when I lost Marie, I lost the one real connection I had with someone else and—and I know this sounds stupid, but—I feel like I have a bit of that back with you.”
My lips parted as I took a deep breath, needing extra oxygen to help me process what he’d just said. I squeezed his hand back, which communicated better than any words could just then.
He must have understood what I’d said without speaking because he stopped walking and, right in the middle of the sidewalk, turned to look at me, his eyes so unbearably sad but somehow hopeful at the same time. “Thank you. For being here with me. I...I want to get better. I really do. It’s like you threw me a life preserver and made me see why I should grab it and not let myself keep getting dragged under.”
“Always grab it, Max,” I said, forcing the words past my tight throat. “Always.”
He nodded, and we started walking again.
A half a block later, he squeezed my hand. “Where were you and Gary, by the way?”
I swallowed and took a long breath in before I said, “Tony didn’t tell you?”
“No. Maybe he told the other guys, but...” he shrugged, not needing to explain that he hadn’t been with the band for a good chunk of the day.
“Well,” I said, and then chuckled. “You’re holding the hand of what was, as of this morning, one of America’s most wanted.”
He stopped again, tugging me to a halt beside him. “What?”
“It’s pretty funny, actually,” I said, attempting to smile, trying to make light of what had happened. Failing.
He didn’t smile back and only looked at me in confusion and said, “What’s going on?”
I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want to tell anyone; I was so raw from it and still reeling, not to mention embarrassed. But he’d shared so much with me, so many personal things, and he was right that we did have that connection.
And while I didn’t want to have to tell him, at the same time, I wanted him to know. I have no idea why, but I did.
I sighed and opened my mouth to tell him and got as far as, “My father is—” before I dissolved into the ugly cry.
Somehow that was enough to trigger him to pull me into his arms.
Lighthouse
Once I finished crying and slobbering all over Max, taking full advantage of his strong arms and willingness to be cried and slobbered on, I felt a million times lighter and was able to explain what had happened.
Only a few days ago it would have been satisfying to be the reason for his horrified expression as I told him about my crook of a father and his neglectful and complicit wife, but now, it was just exhausting having to explain.
“That’s crazy,” he said. “I’m...wow. I had no idea you were dealing with that sort of stuff.”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t dealing with it. Not really. Until I had to today, of course.”
“Still, they sound like...” His voice trailed off, and by the look on his face, it was obvious he didn’t want to insult my family.
Good thing I wasn’t above it. “Douches?”
He smirked at me. “I wasn’t going to say it. I was going to try for a nicer word.”
“Whatever. It’s what they are. I knew they were bad, but I never actually thought they would drag me down with them. I mean, I’m their kid.” I called them a bunch of names and then laughed because if I didn’t laugh, I was going to dissolve into tears again.
“You get to stay with us, though, right?” Max asked.
“Yeah,” I said, thankful for that detail. “For now, anyway. To be honest, I have nowhere else to go.”
And that’s when it occurred to me that come September, when it was time to return to Rosewood, I probably would literally have nowhere to go. With my parents in jail and their money frozen or earmarked for lawyers, there was no way they’d be able to pay my tuition to the expensive boarding school.
Was I going to have to move in with my grandmother and go to public school? Or was she a part of this? Was that why she hadn’t been in touch? Or maybe it was because she knew nothing about it.
What a giant mess.
“Sandy?” Max said. “Where did you go there?”
I shook off my thoughts and returned my focus to him. “Sorry, I was wondering about September. I have no idea what to do.”
He pulled me into his arms again, pressing me against his soft t-shirt—my new happy place. “It’s okay. Dr. Carmichael said just to take things day by day, and I think that applies to you, too. Tony’s not going to kick you off the bus, and there’s no telling when Linda will be back, so you and Nessa are here for a while yet. Anyway, it’s not even July, so there’s no rush for you to figure out September.”
I nodded against his chest. “You’re right.”
I felt myself relaxing against him, standing there in his embrace. The bus was mostly a fragrance-free zone, but his t-shirt smelled like laundry soap and him—a scent combination I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of.
“I think I should apologize to you,” he said, making me reluctantly back away out of the hug so I could look up into his eyes.
“For what?”
“For that kiss yester
day. I...that was way out of line.”
I appreciated the apology but was kind of disappointed at the same time. I nodded, trying not to let that disappointment show. “It’s okay, Max. I understand.”
“It’s not,” he said. “But obviously I can’t take it back. As much as I think I would like to be with you and I meant what I said yesterday, what I really need right now, more than anything, is a friend.”
“You have that,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “That means everything. I know I’m not ready to be with someone else. I need to work through my stuff first even though part of me wants to jump in with both feet. But that wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Or you,” I said gently.
He nodded and then shoved his hand through his hair and said, sheepishly, “Assuming you wanted that...”
I lifted my hand to his face, tracing my thumb along his cheek. “You don’t have to assume. You can know that I want that. But not now. The time isn’t right for either of us. But until then, I will always be your friend—whatever you need. Okay?”
He leaned into my palm and closed his eyes as he nodded. “Dr. Carmichael said to keep a journal or something to put my feelings in.”
“It’s a good idea,” I said, secretly wanting to read that journal, even though it didn’t exist yet.
He shrugged. “I’m not really a journal kind of guy, but I’ve been working on a song.”
Even better. “Oh really?”
He turned his head and looked down the block, but maybe he was just avoiding my eyes. “Yeah. It’s been spinning around inside my skull for a while, but in these last couple of days, it sort of came together.”
As my heart lurched in the same way it had when I’d learned I was going on tour, I was reminded of how much I adored musicians. And maybe especially this musician. It was hard to believe how far we’d come and how I now thought of him as Max first and musician second. But at the end of it, he was still a musician. A crazy talented one.
Somehow I managed to stay cool, despite my excitement over being here at the dawn of a new song and more importantly, the beginning of his new life. “Is that what you were writing back on the bus?”
Working for the Band Page 19
