The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  I snorted, making Dad turn and look at me, eyebrows raised. I covered it up with a cough. “Sorry,” I croaked, pointing at my throat. “Tickle. Must be dry in here.”

  After a couple more hours of playing (during which Kiki and I did two more coffee runs) the guys were sagging with obvious exhaustion, so Dad called an end to rehearsal. To my surprise, a glance at the clock told me it was almost four pm and the guys had been working hard all day. I was tired just from watching, so couldn’t imagine how they felt.

  “Let’s hit the hotel for a break,” Dad said as he pulled out his phone to summon Gary and Ken back to pick everyone up. “I’m fried and want a shower and some food; I imagine everyone else does, too.”

  Once he was done with his phone, he hauled himself out of his chair and put up a hand, stopping the boys. They were already well-trained to watch for his cues and all looked at him, waiting for direction.

  “We’re done rehearsal for the day,” he said. “We can do a bit more tomorrow, but I want you boys to get a good night’s rest. The bad news is we still have work to do back at the hotel.” He smiled at Ginny and Kiki. “Once we get back there and fill our bellies, I’m going to review the video of today’s practice while handing you over to these capable ladies who are going to make heartthrobs out of you.”

  Kiki laughed. “Look at them, Tony,” she said, gesturing toward the stage with a sweep of her arm. “We’re just going to dress you and tidy you up, boys. You’re already heartthrobs all on your own.”

  “Shhhh. Don’t feed their egos,” Dad said in a stage whisper.

  Yeah, especially Andres’s, I thought.

  Back Seat Confessions

  I woke with a start and a gasp, taking a moment to place where I was. When I realized I was in the back of my father’s limo, and it was dark, I remembered Dave and I were heading back to our respective campuses.

  Speaking of Dave, I turned to look at him sitting beside me, expecting him to be passed out too since my long day must have been like an eternity to him, but instead, he was smiling at me, his eyes twinkling in what little light there was in the back of the car.

  “You okay?” he said softly.

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Bagged.” And as though my telling him wasn’t evidence enough, I yawned, belatedly covering my mouth with my forearm. “Sorry.”

  He shrugged.

  I looked out the window and spotted the Dairy Queen. That meant we were about five minutes out from Rosewood—not worth allowing myself to slip back into sleep, despite how badly I wanted to. It would just make it harder to wake up and haul my butt up to my dorm room. To keep myself awake, I glanced over at the boy beside me. “Why don’t you look as tired as I feel?”

  His lips spread into a grin. “Oh, I’m tired; maybe I’m just too amped for it to show.”

  “It was a good day,” I said. “You did great, you know. My dad was really impressed; that says a lot.”

  He nodded and was silent for a long moment before he blurted out: “He asked me to go on tour with them.”

  I wasn’t surprised that Dad had asked, only that he’d done it already. And maybe that I hadn’t seen him do it—it must have happened when I was so busy avoiding Andres. “Oh yeah?” I asked, playing dumb.

  “You knew,” he said, not a question.

  “I had a feeling,” I said, lifting just my left shoulder.

  He nodded again and looked straight ahead as though out the windshield, but I doubted his eyes were tracking where we were going.

  It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but he was obviously thinking about something. “You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you, are you?”

  “No,” he said quickly as his head swung back to me. “Not at all. I understand it had to come from him.”

  I realized then that he hadn’t said what his answer had been. “You going to go?”

  He looked away again. “I don’t know.”

  That shouldn’t have been a surprise, since he’d turned me down so many times before when I’d tried to get him to audition, but while he’d refused me, no one ever refused Tony Capri. “What’s wrong, Dave?”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it. Took a breath, started again. “I’m just not sure I want to do it.”

  For some reason, that made me instantly mad. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, the kind hundreds of guys like him begged for a chance at. Didn’t he understand what this could mean for him? How this could be his ticket?

  “Why not?” I demanded, my tone clipped and loud in the back of the quiet limousine. I glanced forward; Gary’s eyes were on the road, though I was sure he was listening. Not like he hadn’t heard a lot worse than a couple of kids talking about going on tour.

  “It’s complicated,” Dave said when I looked back at him.

  “I’m pretty sure I can follow. Just don’t use any big words,” I said.

  He looked down at his hands, fidgeting. “I wasn’t insulting your intelligence, Vanessa. And I know this is huge—a dream come true. What I meant was that it’s complicated for me.”

  He sighed, but didn’t continue, so I tried a different tack. “How long did he ask you to join the tour for?”

  “He didn’t give me an exact time period. I think his words were, ‘for the foreseeable future. Until Chris gets better.’”

  “So it’s not a long-term commitment,” I pointed out. “Why wouldn’t you want to do it?”

  He looked up at me, into my eyes. “It’s a total rush,” he said. “Playing, I mean. And I bet it will be even more of one when I’m on stage tomorrow. I love music; love playing. More than anything, actually. And the guys are awesome, so yeah, it’s a dream come true. But this is such a big deal—playing to huge audiences, traveling around for the summer.”

  He paused for a long moment and then said, so softly, I almost didn’t hear, “I’m just scared. I don’t want to get caught up in it, you know?”

  “Are you worried you’re not good enough?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I mean, not to be conceited or anything, but your dad wouldn’t have offered if he’d thought I wasn’t. Maybe at first I was a little insecure, but no, it’s not that. It’s...” he sighed.

  Something like sympathy came over me, making me reach for his hand and squeeze it. But as soon as I realized I’d touched him, I quickly pulled back. “What is it?”

  I wasn’t sure he was going to answer, but then he finally did. “I don’t know if you’ll know about this—your dad will, I’m sure—but back in the 70’s there was a band called Legion Thunder.”

  While they were from before my father’s time as a producer, Legion Thunder was definitely stuff of legend, so much so that I’d heard of them and some of their music even though they probably hadn’t played in decades. Their stuff wasn’t to my tastes but was finding a new audience among retro-loving hipsters.

  “Okay,” I said, starting to get a sinking feeling where this was going. With a glance out the window, I was also worried that we were going to run out of road before he told me the full story.

  “My grandfather—the one who just died—was one of the band members.”

  “Wait,” I said, remembering seeing the one-line news story a little while back, obviously not making the connection before now. “Your grandfather was Strutts Dempsey?”

  He seemed a little surprised that I knew, but Dad had mentioned Strutts over the years—he’d been something of a phenom back in the day.

  “No one around here knows the relation,” Dave said. “We kept it pretty quiet, and my mom changed her name even before she got married. He never wanted us to suffer because of his past.”

  I let that sink in, realizing that Emmie—who he’d dated—probably didn’t even know. I waited for him to continue, seeing that even just the telling was hard for him. Surely his grief over his grandfather was still fresh. But this was more than that.


  “I’m really sorry,” I said softly when he seemed to be struggling too much to go on. I wondered if he’d had anyone to talk to about it and figured probably not, definitely not around here if no one knew who he was.

  He nodded and then said, “Being in that band pretty much ruined his life.”

  “In what way?” I prodded gently, though I could probably guess.

  “Life on the road,” he said. And while he didn’t need to elaborate on that, especially for me, he did. “Drugs, groupies, more drugs, bad decisions. He married my grandmother—a groupie—on the road when he got her pregnant. Then he basically dumped her at home while he went on tour again and pretty much forgot about her. He had other kids, too—only a couple I’ve met. I don’t even think he knew all of them.”

  I bit back a few choice words, not wanting to add insult to injury. Instead of letting on how I felt, I looked toward the front seat and leaned forward. “Hey, Gary, can you drive around for a bit? Just like an extra ten minutes?”

  “Sure thing, Nessa,” Gary said over his shoulder.

  I didn’t want Gary to think we were making out in the back (which would filter back to my dad), so I left the partition down. But I kept my voice low when I turned back to Dave. I grabbed his hand again, this time holding onto it. “What else? You can tell me; it’s in the vault, I promise.”

  He looked up at me, anguish in his eyes. “Four ODs. Six trips to rehab.”

  “Did any of it take?”

  “The last stay did, thankfully.” He squeezed my fingers and then let me go, which hurt a little, but I reminded myself this wasn’t about me.

  “I don’t want you to think he was a bad guy. I...I feel weird telling you all this awful stuff because by the time I really knew him, he was clean and had been for a while. He was a good guy who did a lot to give back. He had a lot of great stories—and some really scary ones, too. The worst ones he didn’t tell me himself.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Do yourself a favor and don’t Google your loved ones.”

  Not like I needed that tip.

  It was dark in the car, but I saw the shine of tears in his eyes. “I miss him already,” he said.

  “Of course you do,” I soothed, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb.

  “But that doesn’t mean I want to live that life. He spent years trying to make amends, though my mother never forgave him for what he did to her and my grandmother. She only came to the hospice one time so he could say his piece, but even that wasn’t enough for her. He...at the end it was pretty much just me and one of my half-uncles who were with him. He was so alone, though he never blamed them.”

  So sad, I thought, fighting my own tears. “At least they didn’t keep you from having a relationship with him.”

  “At first they did. But when he proved that he was clean and away from that life, my parents let me meet him. They still don’t know how close we got. But we had a real connection, you know?”

  I nodded, unable to come up with anything that might help ease his grief.

  He exhaled loudly and looked up, unshed tears still in his eyes. “So yeah, that’s what’s holding me back. He gave me my first guitar, taught me to play, but he never wanted that life for me. He warned me against it, told me to enjoy the music for myself—that going into the biz would ruin music for me. Or worse, obviously.”

  I’d seen it happen, so I wasn’t surprised a former star would have warned his grandson away from the dark side of the business.

  Dave laughed without humor. “He probably would have lost his mind if he knew this opportunity was even on the table for me. I said yes to the one-time thing because what could it hurt, you know? It’s not even off campus. But going on tour?” He shook his head.

  “If it wasn’t for the bad stuff, would you want to do it?” I asked. “Like, forgetting all that happened to him and just thinking about the music; do you want to play?”

  He looked up at me, and I could see the shadows move across his face as he worked his jaw before he finally admitted it. “Yeah. I really do.”

  “Then you have to,” I said, holding up a palm toward him when he opened his mouth to protest. “Look, Dad runs a really tight ship. There will be no drugs or drinking or big parties. If he hasn’t briefed you about all that, he would before you sign on to make sure you’re on board. There are contracts you’d have to sign that stipulate you can’t turn into a party animal, or you’re out of the band. He wants a successful band that isn’t going to be in the tabloids for wrecking hotels or collecting paternity suits—while it would result in press, he doesn’t want bad press. If there’s too much negative stuff going on, parents are going to think twice about sending their kids to a concert.”

  “Right, the squeaky clean image.”

  I nodded. “He’s serious about it, too. If guys want to be hard-core rock stars where they can use their fame to score girls and drugs, going through the rehab revolving door, working with my dad is not the place for them.” I looked into his eyes to make sure he understood what I was saying, what it meant for him. “That means you’d be safe from all that stuff. He’d make sure you’re insulated from a lot of it, assuming you’re committed and want to work with him. He takes care of his own, but doesn’t suffer fools gladly.”

  Dave snorted. “What does that mean?”

  “That’s like his favorite saying,” I said with a chuckle. “It means he doesn’t take crap. He’ll go to the ends of the earth to make you a star, but he won’t put up with you if you act like an idiot.” Especially not after what he went through, I didn’t say.

  The car turned to the left, and a glance through the window told me we were pulling into the Westwood driveway to drop him off first.

  We were running out of time and while I could send Gary on another drive, we all needed rest. “So what did you tell him?” I asked.

  “That I’d sleep on it.”

  I thought about what he’d told me about his mother and what she’d been through because of his grandfather, her father. “What about your parents?”

  He took a deep breath and pushed his fingers through his hair. “That’s part of it, too.”

  “Dad’d be happy to talk to them and reassure them of the same things I just told you,” I said. “He’s great with parents. And he is one, so he gets it—he treats everyone like they’re his own.”

  “He’s a good dad, huh?”

  I smiled, my throat getting thick as I thought about my dad. I couldn’t have picked a better parent had I been given the opportunity. “The best.”

  The car rolled to a stop then and even though I felt like we could have talked for a lot longer to help him decide, maybe it was enough.

  Dave reached for the door handle and then looked back at me. “Thanks for this, Vanessa. Really for everything. This is...you’ve been really great.”

  “I don’t want to see you throw an opportunity like this away,” I said, holding his gaze. “You’re a rare talent.”

  He looked at me sideways. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like musicians, you’re tossing a lot of compliments my way.”

  Thankful it was dark so he probably couldn’t see my face heating up, I waved him off. “My Dad told me to do whatever it takes to get you on board. Obviously, that includes shameless flattery.”

  Dave cocked his head. “I thought you didn’t know he’d asked me.”

  Busted.

  “Errr.... Shut up,” is the super smart comeback I came up with.

  He laughed. “Fine, whatever. I do appreciate it, though.”

  The way he was looking at me was awkward or maybe it was me that was awkward. Either way, it made me want to push him out of the car before he tried to give me a hug or something. “Whatever. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Go get your beauty sleep, Boy Band.”

  “I’m not in the band yet,” he said.

  But we both knew as he got out of that limo, before the en
d of the next day, he would be.

  Decisions, Decisions

  To: willmont.davidson@the-westwood-academy.com

  From: vanessa.capri@the-rosewood-academy.com

  Subject: So?

  Message: Have you decided yet?

  To: vanessa.capri@the-rosewood-academy.com

  From: willmont.davidson@the-westwood-academy.com

  Subject: re: So?

  Message: I left you like 3 minutes ago.

  To: willmont.davidson@the-westwood-academy.com

  From: vanessa.capri@the-rosewood-academy.com

  Subject: re: re: So?

  Message: 6 minutes, actually. Plenty of time to make up your mind.

  ––––––––

  I smiled as I looked down at my phone and hit send just as Gary pulled up to the Rosewood building. “Here you go, Nessa,” he said as he put the car in park.

  “Don’t get out,” I said, opening the door as he went to undo his seatbelt. “I got it.”

  “Thanks,” he said on a sigh. It had been a long day for him, too.

  I got halfway out of the car and then stopped to ask, “Hey, are you going to watch the show tomorrow?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice, which was no surprise since he was a music lover, too. “See you tomorrow.”

  After I closed the door and began hauling my exhausted body up the Rosewood stairs, I heard my phone go off again.

  To: vanessa.capri@the-rosewood-academy.com

  From: willmont.davidson@the-westwood-academy.com

  Subject: re: re: re: So?

  Message: Are you going on tour?

  I stopped in my tracks as I read his message. Why would he ask that? Did it mean he wanted me on tour? And if so, would my not going affect his answer? Not that it mattered, since there was no way I was going on tour no matter what.