The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  “Hey,” he said, picking up his guitar case and coming over toward me.

  “Ready to meet the band?” I asked, realizing too late that asking might rattle him even more.

  He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’m...I’m a little nervous.”

  No kidding. “It is a big deal,” I said, hoping validating his feelings would make him feel a little better. “But you are totally going to crush it.”

  “Nervous, about meeting your dad, I mean. But yeah, I guess the band thing, too,” he said with a chuckle.

  I waved him off. “My dad’s cool. He’s like a big teddy bear. And as long as you’re committed to the music, you’re good, and there’s nothing to fear.”

  “If you say so,” he said on a long breath.

  “They’ll be here any minute,” I said, jerking my thumb toward the door.

  “It’s sunny out; why don’t we wait outside?” he suggested, adding, “I might just go crazy standing in here.”

  With a nod, I led him to the door and held it open for him. “Thank you, m’lady,” he said with a tilt of his head and a wink as he walked through.

  “You flirting with me?” I asked, incredulous.

  He looked down at me, screwing up his face a little. “Sorry. I’m just trying not to freak out.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Just then our attention was drawn by the limo coming down the driveway, glinting in the sunshine as it approached.

  I heard Dave take a deep breath, but didn’t comment, instead going down the stairs to wait at the curb.

  The second the car stopped, Gary jumped out and gave me a smile. “Hey, Nessa,” he said as he came around the car and opened the back door closest to me for my dad. At the same time, the door on the other side opened, and guys started pouring out.

  Gary then went around to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and started unloading guitars. I knew that the amps, speakers, and microphones were already set up in the gym, thanks to an AV rental company, and Darren would be using one of the school’s drum kits, but of course the boys would all bring their own instruments where possible.

  Before the car emptied of bodies and guitars, my dad pulled me into a hug. “Nessa,” he said into my ear. “It’s so good to see you.”

  A wave of guilt washed over me like it did almost every time I saw him and was reminded that I was his only family. I missed him too, but in a different way—he was my dad, and I loved him, of course, but he wasn’t exactly the center of my universe the way I suspected I was his.

  I smiled over his shoulder at Linda who kept her eye on him for me. At least he had her. She winked back at me as she hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder.

  I pulled out of the hug and looked at my dad. “How’s it going?”

  He had that twinkle in his eye, so I wasn’t surprised when he said, “Great. Really coming along. We’re almost ready for the album release.”

  He looked past me, so I took a step back and turned toward Dave to make the official introduction. “Dad, this is Willmont Davidson—he goes by Dave.”

  “Great to meet you in person, sir,” Dave said as he stepped forward and stuck out his hand.

  “Call me Tony.” My father put his palm into Dave’s and shook heartily, the smile reaching his eyes. “And it’s good to meet you as well. Nessa sent me a note this morning to let me know you’re completely up to speed on the music. I have to say I’m very impressed.”

  Dave nodded, still looking nervous. “I’ve been working hard at it.”

  That was exactly the right thing to say to my father.

  “Great. I’m looking forward to hearing with my own ears. Not that I don’t trust Nessa, of course,” he said looking down at me with a smile.

  What Dad hadn’t said was that I’d told him just how good Dave had gotten in such a short time and how I’d suggested he look at him to be a replacement—even if only a temporary one—for Chris.

  “Come, meet the other guys.” He reached out his arm as a gesture to the four guys to come over. “Boys?”

  I carefully avoided Andres’s gaze—though I felt it on me—instead watching the others as they approached Dave. I was very interested to see how they would accept him, just in case this turned out to be more than a one-time gig.

  Graeme came up first. “Graeme Boone,” he said in his charming British accent.

  Dave nodded. “I’m Dave. You’re lead singer—your vocals are awesome, man.”

  Graeme smiled and tipped his head. “Cheers.”

  Andres was next, and since my eyes were on Dave, I saw him fidget nervously. “I know who you are—Andres Castillo,” he said as they clasped hands. “I’m a big fan. Great to meet you.”

  “And you,” Andres answered in his deep voice that I refused to acknowledge was sexy.

  Darren came forward. “Darren Hill, drums,” he said. “Great to meet you and thanks for saving our butts, we would have been fu...screwed without you,” he said with a quick look at Dad.

  It might have been a weird thing to witness him censoring himself, but I was very familiar with dad’s rules for the guys that included no swearing in public. They were obviously working on their bad habits to clean themselves up before tour. If they hadn’t started already, they’d be doing interviews soon, and that meant portraying a wholesome image that parents wouldn’t mind supporting with album and ticket sales.

  While there would be the illusion of a bad boy or two in the group (thanks to carefully constructed media ‘leaks’ of some mild ‘behavior’), they’d still be squeaky clean and mostly above reproach—that was the number one rule of the band, what they’d signed up for.

  Dad was done with scandals and after what had happened to him in the past, I could hardly blame him.

  Dave shook Darren’s hand. “Wow, good grip—I would have guessed drums.”

  Darren chuckled and smiled at Dave, who was clearly making a great first impression with the guys.

  Finally, Max, the quietest guy in the group, came forward. “Max Lindstrom,” he said. “Bass.”

  “Good to meet you,” Dave said, his smile easier than it had been even just a few moments before—he was obviously calming down as he saw the guys were just normal people.

  Max ended the handshake and didn’t say anything else. He glanced over and looked at me, giving me a polite nod in greeting.

  I nodded back, wondering again about his backstory. I hadn’t asked Dad much about the boys’ lives, not wanting to appear too interested. But if I knew my father, he’d done background checks on all of them so there would be no surprises in the media when they got big. Whatever made Max so quiet and broody, Dad knew about it, and it obviously wasn’t a deal-breaker.

  Or maybe he was just that kind of guy. Bass players tended to be a bit more subdued—at least that’s what my somewhat limited experience told me.

  “It’s been a bit of a long ride that started with a Starbucks,” Linda said pointedly, coming up beside me. “Maybe we should start with a bathroom break?”

  “Of course,” I said, pointing over toward the recreation center building. “The gym’s in there, and there’s locker rooms, so that’s probably the best place to set you guys up as something of a home base.”

  The boys grabbed their guitars and other assorted bags, and we said goodbye to Gary (who was going to check into the hotel where the band and crew would be staying) before we began walking toward the building.

  I glanced over to check in on Dave, but he was deep in conversation with Graeme like they were old friends. I had a feeling they were discussing the music, both passionately involved in the conversation. It made me smile, glad he was fitting in already.

  I leaned toward my dad, “This is going to be good,” I said to him quietly, tilting my head toward Graeme and Dave.

  He nodded. “I think you’re right.” Then he looked down at me. “You have the gift of the scou
t, daughter of mine. Sure you don’t want to join the family biz? I’d even pay you.”

  I knew he was only half joking so I was quick to shake my head. “Nope, thanks for the offer, though.”

  He let out an exaggerated sigh as though it wasn’t the millionth time I’d refused. “Fine. Anyway, about this gig...” He went on to tell me the important details: that a second car was on its way from New York, carrying wardrobe along with his hair and makeup person, their image stylist, and a professional photographer so they could take some action shots of the band with an actual crowd in front of them. He’d already cleared it with the dean who’d been fine with it as long as he promised not to include any student’s faces in any pictures.

  “So they’re all getting along?” I asked quietly.

  “Absolutely.” His smile faltered a tiny bit, which told me a lot more than the one word.

  “Who?” I said, knowing already.

  He did a double take at me. “Who what?”

  “Who is causing problems? Is it Andres?”

  He cocked his head. “No one is causing problems.”

  “So why the face?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, but we were ahead of the guys by several yards. “It’s Max, actually. He’s not causing problems, but he’s...” He sighed before saying, “I’m not sure he wants to be in the band, to be honest.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  He lowered his voice even more, so I had to lean in to hear him say, “He’s seventeen, so his family had to sign the contracts, but I am learning more and more that...after some things happened...let’s just say I don’t think he was so keen to join, and I think they coerced him into it.”

  I was going to turn back to look at Max, but didn’t want to make it obvious. “Wow,” I said, not sure what ‘some things’ might entail. “But he could just mess up, and you’d kick him out. Or he could just leave, couldn’t he?” I’d heard horror stories of families pushing kids to success so they could be the breadwinners for the family. But my dad was all too familiar and was careful not to get involved in those kinds of situations where kids got exploited like that.

  He sighed as we got to the door of the rec center. “It’s complicated. I’ll fill you in later. As it is, he’s committed to the music and seems to have a good work ethic, but I’m a little nervous nonetheless.”

  There wasn’t much I could do to get the story out of him now, as the boys all filed into the building, so I nodded, making a mental note to catch up with him later.

  I led them all down the hall to the boys’ locker room so they could stow their stuff and use the bathrooms before meeting us out in the gym.

  I then turned to lead Linda back to the girls’ locker room, but she seemed to have disappeared. As I looked around, I found myself alone in the hallway.

  Well, except for Andres, who was coming straight for me.

  Crap. It had taken great effort, in some instances, but I’d successfully avoided being alone with him at the studio on spring break and the weekend since when I’d visited. But here and now, he’d blindsided me, and there we were, just the two of us in that long, otherwise empty hallway.

  Without a word, I turned toward the girls’ locker room, but a firm hand around my arm brought me to a halt.

  “Wait,” he said. “Nessa.”

  I whirled around, shaking out of his grip, suddenly angry in a way I hadn’t let myself be since seeing him that first time in my dad’s studio. “Don’t call me that.”

  He tilted his head and frowned, clearly confused.

  “Only my friends and family—people who are close to me—call me that. You call me Vanessa. Or better yet, don’t talk to me at all.”

  “I’ve wanted to speak to you for a long time,” he said, ignoring that last part about not talking to me, being the arrogant jerk he was. “About what happened last summer between us.”

  Oh God. Of course he remembered—I’d known it from that first second at the studio, but as long as we’d never discussed it and I kept avoiding him, it didn’t seem real. Like a dream that had happened to some other unfortunate sucker who got caught up in his lies and sweet words. Now the reality of him humiliating me so completely came screaming back to me. “There’s nothing to say,” I bit out.

  “Not true,” he said. “I need to apologize.”

  I crossed my arms and sighed. “Fine. You’ve apologized.” I nodded toward the locker room door. “Now you’d better get in there.”

  He took a step closer until he was in my bubble, but there was no way I would back up from him. He could pressure me with his arrogance, broad chest, and cocky confidence, but I would never back down. Instead, I craned my neck to look up at him, defiant. Thankfully, there was no way for him to know how hard my heart was pounding. I hoped.

  “No,” he said, his eyes half-lidded as he looked down at me.

  Crap. I’d forgotten how impossibly long his inky eyelashes were, damn him. I narrowed my eyes, focusing on his big pupils that were no different than anyone else’s.

  “I want to clear this up,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. My resolve didn’t waver, in fact, it turned into rage. This guy, this arrogant jerk, was trying to seduce me into forgiving him! Had he no shame at all? Clearly not.

  “Oh right,” I said, delivering my best incredulous scowl. “I see, it’s all about you. You want a guilt-free conscience before you go on tour so you can be free to wreck hearts all over. Well, forget it, jerk. I don’t forgive you. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for how you treated me. How do you like that?”

  He recoiled as if I’d hit him. “But...we were just messing around. It wasn’t anything serious...we knew each other a matter of hours.”

  I opened my mouth to say that it had been more like forty-five hours which was almost two full days, but thankfully my dad’s head popped out from the boys’ locker room, saving me from blurting out that telling little fact. “Andy, come on.”

  “He’ll be right there, Dad,” I yelled down the hall, giving my father a big smile. “I’m just giving him some pointers.”

  Dad nodded and disappeared, thankfully clueless.

  “Pointers?” Andres asked.

  “Yes, on how not to be a douche,” I said, dropped the proverbial mic, and walked away.

  Of course, it would have been a lot cooler if I didn’t have to see him in the gym six minutes later and pretend our conversation hadn’t happened.

  The Style Posse Arrives

  “You were right,” Dad said, his eyes on the stage. Well, to be accurate, his eyes were on Dave. We were sitting in the short row of folding chairs that we’d set up in the gym in front of the stage.

  The guys hadn’t wasted any time and after a few minutes of tuning and warm ups, they started playing after Graeme counted them in.

  Even knowing how nervous Dave was, he looked like he belonged there on the stage. Was born to it, maybe.

  When he’d played for me the night before, he’d been relaxed, sitting in a chair across from me, but now, he stood on Graeme’s right, legs spread wide, rocking with the music. Looking every inch the rock star.

  “Told you,” I said, hiding my relief. Even though I’d been mostly sure Dave would live up to the hype, there had been that little doubt nagging at the back of my mind, even after I’d heard him play. I did have a good ear, but I wasn’t Tony Capri.

  “I wish he’d auditioned earlier.”

  I knew what Dad meant: that he totally would have put Dave in the band. Though who would he have beaten out? Andres with his current fan base and Latin lover vibe? Or Chris with his sweet face and great personality. Based on what I’d seen, their skills were about equal—they were both good. But there was no denying that Dave was better.

  I didn’t ask because it didn’t matter at this point anyway. “His grandfather was ill,” I said. “And I think there’s more to why he wa
sn’t interested, but he wouldn’t say.”

  Dad gave me an amused glance. “You close with this boy?”

  There was no reason for me to blush, but my face didn’t seem to know that. “Not really,” I said. “I approached him about auditioning when I saw him play at the talent show. After that...” I shrugged, trying to be casual. “We’ve sort of kept in touch a little. It’s nothing.”

  My father’s eyes searched mine, looking to see if I was telling the truth or if I was holding stuff back. After several long seconds, he nodded and turned back to the stage. I resisted the urge to exhale in relief, which would just make me look guilty of something.

  We continued to watch as the guys finished the first song of their set. They’d opened with Brooklyn Girl, the song that was going to be their first single. Dad had written the music even before the band came together, but once he’d heard the melody, Graeme had written some lyrics. Dad had loved them and tossed out what he’d been working on, and Brooklyn Girl was born.

  Listening to the song now, I loved it too. To hear it, you’d never even guess that the two parts of the song weren’t written together. I guess that’s the key to a perfect arrangement and great songwriters.

  Plus, there was no denying that Graeme was crushing it, his soulful voice fleshing out the melody while the other guys sang backup.

  Dave even chimed in, which was a testament to his abilities.

  “Are you sure you didn’t leak the album to him in advance?” Dad said, making me turn to look at him. His serious expression told me he wasn’t even joking.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “He really is that good.”

  Dad exhaled and nodded, and I could see his mental gears turning, his I’m going to make him a star gears.

  I turned back toward the band pressing my lips together to try to hide my smile.

  Seconds later Dad pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket and unlocked the screen. “Ginny and Kiki are here—they’re checking in at the security booth.”