The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  “It’s crazy,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “What did I just say?”

  I moved my right foot around under the water until I found a jet, letting the water blast into my arch. Even with the massage and pedicure, it still felt good on my foot. Spending hours and hours on my feet was standard operating procedure on tour. “Fine, I’ll reserve judgment. What is this not-crazy plan?”

  “Well...” That gleam was back with a vengeance. “We’ll be seeing Zen Garden in Portland, right?”

  “Nope, I was right. It’s crazy,” I said, switching my feet in front of the jet.

  Sandy gave me a withering look. “We’re not touring with them. They’re not off limits”

  Technically she was right, but... I sighed. “Which one?” I asked, figuring she’d be into Pete, the tattooed one who looked a little dangerous. Or maybe Eddie, the lead singer who had long, rocker hair. He could be her type—she liked lead singers, which was why I was surprised she’d never mentioned Graeme. Not that I was about to question her on it—I didn’t need to give her any ideas.

  “Ted,” she said.

  “Really?” I said, surprised. Ted was not only not the lead singer, but a cowboy—a real one who’d come from a ranch in Oklahoma to join the band. He had the charm and accent to go along with his guitar skills but I wouldn’t have pegged him as being her type.

  She nodded. “I got a vibe off him when they were on the bus that night.” She looked around absently, avoiding my eyes when she said, “Also, he might have texted me a few times.”

  Okay, so that was news. “Seriously?”

  She shrugged. “We’ve been talking about Portland. You’ve been sort of in the dark, but you know we’ve been tag-teaming social media with them to build buzz. Portland’s going to be amazing.”

  I knew there was stuff going on to leverage both bands’ followers (Zen Garden had way more unique fans, but Wiretap was starting to catch up) and the boys were probably even going to play together at the Portland festival. But after the public mess Andres had made, dragging me into the drama, I’d kept my involvement to the day to day of running the tour, leaving the social media to Sandy.

  “I’m not sure hooking up with one of them is a good idea,” I said.

  She blew out a loud breath. “Nessa, seriously. Stop being such an old lady. I’m not talking about getting engaged or having a groupie love child or anything. Just some harmless flirting and maybe a little kissing. Or probably a lot of kissing. But nothing serious.”

  “Tony’s not going to like it.”

  All traces of a smile gone, she glanced over at the pool and then leaned toward me. “Tony’s not going to know. I’m not breaking any rules—Zen Garden isn’t his band. I’m not messing around with any of our guys. And like I said, nothing serious. No one wants anything complicated.”

  I sighed and spread my arms wide, resting them on the ledge of the hot tub, the steam wafting up from my hot skin. “No, I guess not. It’s...I don’t know. I’m sorry—I don’t mean to be a downer, Sandy, really I don’t. It’s just... with me filling in for Linda, it’s my job to be responsible.”

  She scooted over until she was right beside me. “I know. Not to mention you were born responsible. You have a lot on your plate and with the whole Andy thing. I get it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, glad she understood where I was coming from.

  Until she said, “You know what you need?”

  “Please don’t say what I need is to hook up with a member of Zen Garden.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that,” she said indignantly.

  I lifted my eyebrows and looked at her, waiting.

  She rolled her eyes and slumped a bit, her shoulders dipping under the water. “Okay, yes I was. But seriously, Nessa, stop acting like a stuffy old tour manager and start acting like the teenager you are. Next you’re going to start talking about mortgages and 401Ks.”

  I cringed. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Please,” she said, looking at me like I was suddenly her biggest disappointment, which would have hurt if I hadn’t known she was (mostly) joking. “And anyway, you could do way worse than hooking up with one of them. Well, not Ted, because he’s mine, but one of the others. Just as a distraction, Nessa, nothing serious. You need to cut loose a little. You keep all those teenage hormones in too long you’re going to explode one day.”

  As I looked over at the pool just in time to see Dave put his palms on the deck and pull himself up and out of the pool, the defined muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching as he did, I thought to myself that I could sure use a distraction right about now.

  After Dave left, we took just a few more minutes in the hot tub before it was time to get out and dry off. While the bus couldn’t exactly leave without us, I didn’t want to make them have to wait. I didn’t want to make my father regret, even for one second, the amazing day he’d given us.

  We threw on our robes and rushed back to the room to get showered, packed, and pretty much ready for bed in our pjs (because brushing our teeth and getting changed was way easier in a hotel room than on the bus), before we grabbed our backpacks and rushed out to the parking lot.

  We greeted Gary, who was already in his big captain’s chair, ready to roll as we climbed the stairs. He looked refreshed and ready to go, a giant coffee in his cup holder. Kiki was in the passenger seat, and stopped fiddling with her phone long enough to give us a smile.

  Once we were on board, a glance at the microwave told me it was three minutes to ten. Time to spare.

  Darren, Dave, Andy, and Graeme were spread over the two leather couches at the front of the bus, playing noisy video games on the big TV.

  “Put this on my bunk?” Sandy asked as she held her bag out to me. Once I took it, she dropped down on the couch between Darren and Graeme who each scooted a little to make room for her.

  My father was sitting at the little table, his laptop in front of him, a steaming mug by his right hand. I greeted him only to have him ask if we’d seen Max. I tossed my and Sandy’s backpacks up onto our respective bunks and turned back to him to tell him we hadn’t. He began to slide off the bench when the front door of the coach opened and Max’s head appeared as he came up the stairs.

  Nine-fifty-nine.

  If he noticed that my father had been counting the seconds, he didn’t let on, blowing past Sandy and the other guys and giving my dad a curt nod before walking past me to the bunks. Dad didn’t say anything, not even cracking a joke about cutting it close, but he was obviously edgy.

  “How did you spend your day? Off partying by yourself?” I asked Max as I turned toward him, trying to lighten the suddenly tense mood.

  He was faced away from me and I saw his back stiffen at my words. I was about to repeat myself when my father said my name in warning.

  I leaned back and looked at him over my shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to be nosy, just making conversation.” Although obviously trying to lighten the mood had backfired for some reason. I was starting to really understand Sandy’s frustration in trying to just have a simple conversation with the guy.

  “Leave it,” Dad said in the tone that said he meant business, the one he used so rarely that I didn’t dare defy him.

  What’s going on? I wondered. Did I miss something?

  When I turned back toward Max, I watched as, without a word, he rolled himself into his middle bunk and closed the curtain, shutting himself in.

  Message received.

  The Bunk of Truth

  We would be returning to the grind the next morning once we got to Boise, and regardless of having the most relaxing day ever, I was worn out. It made for better sleeping, so I climbed into my bunk soon after we hit the road. I pretended that my early bedtime had nothing to do with the thing with Max, but something about it bothered me. He’d always been broody, but something was off about how he’d been after I asked him about his day.
Not to mention my father’s reaction—maybe that had been the tipoff that something was amiss.

  Sandy stayed up front with the guys, but they brought their voices down several notches now that there were people in their bunks. I could still hear them after I pulled my curtain closed, but their voices were muted enough that it was background noise.

  I was about to put my earbuds in with some quiet music to help me fall asleep when I heard the shuffle of someone else’s curtain. I rolled on my side and angled my head to look out the tiny sliver of opening to see that Dave had climbed into his bunk. He left his curtain open a little, as he normally did, but as he settled in, rolling to his side and facing the wall, all I could see was the back of his head.

  Grabbing my phone, I took a chance and turned the Wi-Fi on, grateful to my best friend when only a few messages came in. I scanned them and noticed a text from my father, sent earlier in the day when I’d been in the spa.

  Hope you’re having a great day off! Just wanted to let you know that while we’re here, Max has decided to visit his family.

  I should have mentioned earlier, but wasn’t sure if he was going to make the side trip.

  Oh God. How had I not realized that he lived near here? Of course I had all the files on the guys with their home addresses and emergency contact information, but it’s not like I had it all memorized. I closed my eyes, trying to remember where Max was from...Oh right, some small town in Montana. And we were in...of course, Montana, halfway between Minneapolis and Boise. As I thought about it, I realized Dad and Linda had probably chosen this spot as the layover so Max would have the opportunity to visit if he wanted to. Knowing my father, he’d probably made sure to schedule stops like that for all the guys wherever possible.

  Stupid, stupid, Vanessa. How could you not remember?

  I wondered if Sandy or even Dave knew. He hadn’t seemed surprised that Max wasn’t with the rest of the guys watching sports in the hotel lounge. I’d just assumed he was decompressing by himself.

  I texted Dave. Did you know Max was visiting family today?

  As I waited to see if he’d respond, I absently went to my home screen to check the various social media. I was curious to see what people were saying about Wiretap and then realized I no longer had active accounts. While it was a little frustrating, at the same time, it was a relief.

  My phone vibrated in my hand and I went back to the text screen to see Dave had responded.

  He’d said he might but I wasn’t sure he had until Graeme told me when I was packing tonight after the pool.

  God, I felt so stupid. Why hadn’t anyone told me? Of course, my father had tried. He must have assumed I’d see his text before returning to the bus. But had Sandy known? I had to think she didn’t or she would have said something. Some days it seemed like Max was her favorite thing to complain about.

  Why? Dave sent.

  I asked him how he spent his day.

  Nothing wrong with that, Dave sent back.

  I typed in the worst part: Then I asked him if he was off partying.

  Ouch.

  Right? I sent.

  Not your fault, Dave texted. You didn’t know.

  I should have known. I forgot he lives around here.

  You can’t know everything. You’re not an encyclopedia. Anyway it’s your day off.

  I didn’t type it, but couldn’t help but think that a day off wasn’t supposed to mean a day off from thinking. But he was right and while I felt like an idiot, I couldn’t be expected to remember every detail.

  He’ll get over it, Dave sent when I didn’t respond.

  You looking forward to tomorrow? I texted, suddenly very eager to change the subject.

  TBH? Yep. Playing’s a rush. Where are we in the am?

  I’d planned to go over my files first thing in the morning (I always got up before the boys, mostly so I had no competition for the bathroom, but also so I could get ready for the daily debrief) but I remembered that we’d made plans to take the boys to the local zoo for some fun publicity shots. I hadn’t decided yet if I’d go with them, but would after I went through the day’s itinerary so I could see where I was most needed.

  The zoo. Should be fun.

  There any elephants there?

  Shut up.

  :P He sent back. Better get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.

  Sleep well, I texted.

  I was about to turn the Wi-Fi off and plug my phone in, tucking it between my mattress and the outside wall of the bus for the night when I scrolled through and found Max in my contacts. I had all the guys’ numbers for emergencies, but I had yet to have a text conversation with him. Taking a deep breath, I opened a text and sent: I’m sorry about before. Didn’t realize you’d gone to see your family today. Hope everything’s ok.

  I had no idea if he had his phone on and wasn’t expecting any sort of response, just needing to get out my apology, so I was surprised to see the three dots appear under my bubble.

  Thanks. Wasn’t sure I wanted to see them. Yesterday was my g/fs birthday.

  I cursed inside my head. Ugh. I’m so sorry, Max. Must be hard for you.

  It is. ... The three dots stayed there for a long time, taunting me before they then disappeared.

  How was I supposed to respond now? What if he was done texting? Was I supposed to just turn off my phone and go to sleep? What if...

  But then I got another message from him: I miss her so much. She would have loved what’s happening to the band. How well we’re doing.

  I’m sure she would have, I sent, even though I had no way to know for sure. Obviously, since she’d died before I’d even met Max. But I imagined any girlfriend would be hugely proud. He was such a great talent and even after what he went through, it would have been a waste for him if he’d bailed on joining the band.

  I don’t know why I just told you that, he sent quickly.

  I was tempted to text back that it was because he was in the bunk of truth, but he wouldn’t get the joke. And it’s not like it was the time for jokes anyway.

  I’m glad you did, I sent. I’m here to talk anytime. I’m not just your fill-in tour manager, I have great listening skills, too.

  Thanks, he sent. And then: better get to sleep, I hear I have a date with a giraffe tomorrow. Want to be rested up for that.

  I smiled at his joke not because it was funny but because it meant that even though he hadn’t explicitly said it, I knew he was over what I’d asked him earlier. And because maybe it meant talking to me had helped him, even a little. Maybe we’d just turned a corner.

  Night, Max, I sent back and then turned off my Wi-Fi before tucking the phone away and closing my eyes.

  Boise

  The next morning, while we were still on the road, forty minutes from our stop for breakfast, I was in the office at the back of the bus going over the day’s itinerary when my dad joined me. After closing the curtain behind himself, he slid into the bench across from me at the little table.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said.

  “The zombies are emerging and are getting dressed. Once they’re all upright and somewhat coherent, we can do our meeting.”

  I nodded and returned to my file.

  “I want you to stay back today, though,” he said. “Sandy and Kiki can go with them to the zoo.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying not to be disappointed. Watching the guys do a photo shoot at the zoo had been an event I was actually looking forward to—something a little different from the meet and greets. Before I said anything to that effect, I reminded myself I was here to do a job. Still, I wondered what my father had in store for me instead. “How come?”

  Dad glanced toward the curtain and then returned his gaze to me. “I want us to have a meeting without everyone around. We’re going to Skype in Linda, too. She’s getting ready to crawl out of her skin and I’m afraid if I don’t let her start to get involved more—even vir
tually—she’s going to quit on me.”

  I laughed. “Right. Like Linda would ever quit on you. She loves her job almost as much as you do.”

  “That may be true, but I owe it to her to let her do what she can from home. She’s been working on payroll and that kind of thing, but it’s not enough for her. Now that she’s off the pain pills and is feeling better, she can do more to ease your burden. Not that you haven’t been doing an amazing job, especially considering you came in cold,” he added quickly. “Just that it’s a lot and this is supposed to be your summer off, not a tour boot camp.”

  I shrugged. “I’m having an okay time. That spa day helped, too.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad. On both counts. But that doesn’t change the fact that you had other plans for the summer and are here helping out. Though I’m paying you, I know this wasn’t your first choice.”

  Was he transitioning me out? And why did the thought of leaving tour not fill me with relief? In fact, I suddenly felt something like dread when I thought of packing up my stuff and getting off the bus for good. “When do you think Linda will be able to join?” I asked, trying to keep the wariness out of my voice.

  “Not for a while yet, I’m afraid,” my father said as he rubbed his hands over his face. “While she can walk a bit, running around and up and down stairs and climbing on bunks would be too much for her healing foot and arm. It’s just not going to work for her yet. She needs some more time. But there’s still a lot she can do remotely. There’s no reason she can’t liaise with the venues and do the calls and checks. She can make sure all the paperwork is in order while you focus on the on the ground stuff. I have no doubt you two can work as a team, so I want to talk about that.”

  His glance flicked to the curtain again and then back before he leaned in toward me and dropped his voice when he said, “Plus, we need to discuss Chris. We’ll be in Seattle tomorrow so we need a plan in place. I spoke to him yesterday; he’s been cleared by his doctor to join us.”