The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  “But if you know in your heart that this is what you’re meant to do, you have to do it.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Is this your dream, Dave?”

  I held my breath as I waited for his answer but it took him so long to speak that I had to let it out and take another.

  “You know...I didn’t think it was. I thought I just liked playing. To be honest?” he said and then laughed sheepishly as he shook his head. “I didn’t think I was that good. I...it sounds stupid and it’s sort of embarrassing, but I didn’t realize how good I was. I thought everyone had the ability I do to play clean the first or second time hearing something.”

  “Seriously?” I said with a snort and then covered up my nose with my palm before I went on, lowering my voice again. “You honestly didn’t know how good you were?”

  “God, I sound like an arrogant dick, don’t I?”

  I grabbed his hand and then let it go once I realized I’d even done it. “Arrogant? I seriously think you’re the exact opposite of arrogant. You are crazy talented. You really didn’t know?”

  “I had no way of knowing,” he said. “I mean, I played a bit at school, but I guess I never really had the opportunity to stretch, to work to my potential. I thought it just came easy to me.”

  “Your grandfather had to know how good you were.”

  “I didn’t feel comfortable playing too much with him until near the end,” he said, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out into sadness. “And by then he was ill, so I’m not sure he would have noticed my skill level. At that point it was more to take his mind off his illness and the fact that he was dying.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, helpless to offer real comfort over his loss. I had a feeling his grandfather wasn’t the only one who had been eager for a distraction, either.

  Dave shrugged. “I... you know what would have been cool?”

  “What?”

  “To have played with him on stage. I mean, I knew all his band’s songs,” he said with a chuckle. “You know, as much as he totally messed up his life, when he would talk about playing back in the day, I saw the light shining in his eyes. He loved it. He lived for it. I bet he never felt as alive as when he was on stage.”

  I reached for his hand again and held onto it this time, squeezing it. I gave him a long moment to reflect before I said, “Is that how it is for you?”

  He blinked several times before he nodded. Finally he looked up at me, the sheen of tears shining in the muted overhead light. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s how it is for me.”

  My heart broke in that moment but at the same time, his words made me determined. “We need to figure out how to make this work for you. I don’t know how, but tell me what I need to do to make it happen.”

  He dropped his chin, avoiding my eyes as he blew out a long breath. “The band will manage without me, Vanessa” he said.

  I was almost insulted that he thought that’s what I was about. “This isn’t about the band.” When he didn’t look up at me, I reached out and tilted his head up with a finger under his chin, leveling my gaze at him. “This is about you. You following a dream that you probably always had but forced away because of your grandfather and all your family stuff.”

  “Nessa,” was all he said, turning his head to the side, wrenching away from my touch as he squeezed his eyes closed.

  “You know I’m right.”

  Shadows moved across his cheek as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Finally he nodded. “Of course you’re right.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs. I’d known I was right but it felt like a victory getting him to agree. A bittersweet one, though. “You have to do this.”

  “Stop,” he said, opening his eyes and abruptly turning to look at me straight on. “Just stop, okay?”

  “Dave, I...”

  He cut off what would have been my apology for pushing him by standing up and walking away without another word before I even realized what he was doing.

  Unable to call after him, so as not to wake the rest of the bus, I helplessly watched him stride to his bunk and climb into it, pulling the curtain completely across. Shutting the world out. Shutting me out.

  Maybe that hurt more than anything.

  After a trip to the bathroom, I decided it was still too early to be up. Okay, and maybe I was feeling a bit sulky about what had just happened with Dave, so I climbed into my bunk and pulled the curtain across.

  But I was more bugged than I was tired, so on a whim, I grabbed my phone and turned on the Wi-Fi. Sure enough, there was a text from him.

  Sorry. I didn’t mean to run off like that.

  I read the message five times, still not knowing how to respond but finally figured being honest was my best tactic. Just trying to help.

  I know. And I appreciate it. That’s why I had to bail. I...

  I waited.

  And waited.

  Dave?

  ...

  Why would my wanting to help make you want to bail? I sent.

  ...

  Ugh! Asnswer me!

  Great, now you made me make a typo! Jerk!

  LOL, sorry, he sent. What you said? About me having to do it. About it being my dream and how you want to make it happen for me?

  My heart started pounding hard because I felt something big coming. Wait, are we in the morgue of truth?

  Yes, he sent. Ready for some dead serious truth?

  No.

  Really?

  No, not really, I tapped out and sent. Go ahead. But maybe I wasn’t ready for whatever it was because the second I’d sent it, I was sorry. I held my breath as I waited.

  And let it out when I got back: You sure? Once I tell you I can’t untell you.

  Okay, now I really, really wasn’t sure. But it was too late to backpedal now. You’re freaking me out.

  Never mind. Good night, Nessa.

  Dave! You can’t leave me hanging like that.

  Yes I

  ...

  ...

  Not funny, boy band.

  Sorrynotsorry. :P

  You’re deflecting.

  Yes.

  Now you’re stalling!

  Yes again.

  ?!?!

  Never mind, he finally sent. It’s nothing. I was mostly just going to thank you for being on my side.

  I had a funny feeling he wasn’t telling the whole truth and that he’d changed his mind on telling me something big. But it’s not like I could force him to tell me whatever it was. And I didn’t really want to. Especially when I felt like I did have an idea what he was holding back.

  Probably best he closed that cupboard door back up and throw a lock on it while he was at it—these bunks were small enough as it was. Add in an elephant? Someone was going to get crushed.

  So are you going to do it? I asked, because really, that was the most important thing, the thing that had to be what was keeping him up.

  It was a long time before I got his response: I don’t know.

  We Are Family

  Surprisingly, I did manage to get back to sleep and it wasn’t until I heard murmuring outside my bunk that I awoke. I automatically leaned my head closer to the curtain to eavesdrop so I could figure out who was up and talking, but I was too late and only caught as my father said, “Sounds good.”

  Then, nothing. Well, other than the now familiar shuffling noise that I recognized as the sound of a body climbing down from a bunk. I rolled onto my side facing the aisle and pulled my curtain open in time to see Dave in his pajamas touching down on the floor. With him standing, the back of his head was about at the level of my top bunk.

  “Hey,” I said quietly, not sure if anyone was still sleeping, but it was always best to assume someone was.

  At my greeting, he turned toward me and smiled then whispered, “Morning.”

  “W
hat’s happening?” I said, realizing as I did that I was a bit slurry, maybe still a little asleep.

  “We’re pulling into the truck stop ahead of Seattle for breakfast soon.” His eyes flicked toward the front of the bus and he leaned closer to my bunk. “Your dad asked me to stay behind for a few minutes after everyone else leaves for the restaurant.”

  “And you’re going to tell him...?” I asked with raised, expectant eyebrows, because what else could my dad want to talk to him about besides his answer about staying with the band?

  Dave’s eyes dropped from mine and that action alone told me he wasn’t going to join Wiretap. My stomach rolled in disappointment mixed with anger. I felt my lips pursing, holding in everything I wanted to say. There was no point: I’d already said it anyway, and here in the aisle of the bus with people sleeping all around us wasn’t the time or place to rehash it again.

  Maybe he heard the disappointment in my silence because he started to explain. “Nessa, I... I just can’t,” he said. “You know, I stayed up all night and even after what you said, I—” He broke off with a grunt as he was suddenly jostled out of the way by Andres who was scratching his messy mop of hair on his way to the bathroom, seeming not to notice we were having a serious conversation.

  “Anyway, I should get ready,” Dave said once the bathroom door closed with a soft kerchunk. He gave me one last pleading look—begging me for understanding?—before he turned back to his bunk to grab some clothes.

  And so ended that conversation.

  But I was so not done.

  Dad told the guys that we’d have debrief after breakfast on the last leg to the Seattle venue. I knew that was because he wanted to get Dave’s answer first so he’d know how to approach debrief. I hated that he was going to be so disappointed, even more disappointed than I was, though that hardly seemed possible.

  It felt so wrong that Dave wasn’t going to follow his dream. On many levels.

  It was admirable that he was putting his mother’s feelings first, especially when I knew so many guys would have disregarded their parents’ feelings, going ahead with joining the band without a second thought. While I couldn’t pretend to be able to imagine what she and her mother—Dave’s grandmother—went through because of the wild life Strutts had lived, did she really know what he would be giving up? Not just the fame and fortune, but the realization of a dream. Not to mention the gift he would be giving the world with his music—he wasn’t just a great guitar player, but he wrote music, too. My father was the perfect producer for him—he’d foster the talent, encourage Dave to succeed, build his career.

  Did she have any idea of the potential for her son? Would she want him to quit if she did?

  And didn’t Dave owe it to himself to talk it out with her? I couldn’t know for sure if he had, but I didn’t think so. I had a feeling he stopped short of discussing the opportunity with his parents at all, too concerned about stressing them out more.

  All this went through my head as I sat on the sofa by the door as Gary drove us to breakfast. Finally, he turned into the truck stop and followed the signs to the RV section of the parking lot. Sandy was sitting beside me, but was busy checking out her social media post stats.

  “How’re the fans?” I asked her.

  She looked up at me with a grin. “Going crazy. They freaking loved the zoo videos. The guys are really getting good at working it for the camera. Tonight should be great, too—lots of buzz going on out there. And I don’t think I need to tell you that Portland is going to be epic.”

  “Good,” I said absently and then looked out the front of the bus, realizing I hadn’t even watched the zoo videos. I hadn’t been following the band’s social media climb at all after I’d unwittingly been part of it and had then disconnected. Even though I knew Dad didn’t expect me to engage, it still felt like I was failing him somehow. It all felt a little overwhelming all of a sudden; the burden of this job weighing heavily on my shoulders.

  I let out a sigh.

  “Everything okay?” Sandy asked softly.

  I turned back toward her. “Yeah.”

  “Liar”

  “Later,” I said.

  “Sounds serious. Something wrong with the fridge?” she asked darting her eyes toward the back of the bus. “Is it acting up again? Need defrosting?”

  Her face was so deadpan, it took me half a second to catch on, but when I did, I smirked. “No. All appliances are in good working order. I’ll fill you in later. Too many ears.”

  Though the guys were goofing around by the table, huddled around Dad and his laptop, who knew what one of them might overhear? She nodded and as Gary stopped the bus and opened the door with a whoosh, we got up and led the way out into the sunshine. We were hit with a wall of humid, even though it was still kind of cool out. Welcome to Seattle.

  “Blech,” Sandy said. “I’m glad I didn’t bother straightening my hair.”

  I laughed as I looked over at her; her morning regimen had gotten shorter and shorter with each passing day. What had started out as full makeup and hair was now a bit of lip gloss and a ponytail.

  I couldn’t blame her since I was firmly in the ponytail and lip gloss camp myself. After everything fell apart with Andy, I wasn’t exactly trying to impress anyone on the bus (sort of the opposite, actually). And really, I’d seen the boys rolling out of their bunks in their boxers with half-closed eyes, messy hair, and scratching their butts; we’d all seen each other at various levels of done up, from best to hot mess and everything in between. No one seemed to mind or take notice.

  It actually felt like we were a big family, accepting each other no matter how we looked, which was a new experience for me, an only child. But there was comfort in it at the same time, that feeling of not needing to be done up all the time and not caring what the people you lived with looked like.

  As long as they were clean, of course, because no one wanted a smelly bus.

  As Sandy and I led the way toward the restaurant, suddenly a body came between us, draping an arm across each of our shoulders. “What do you say, girls, is it a blueberry pancake kind of morning? I think I could devour a tall stack.”

  I smiled over at Darren who grinned right back. “You don’t have time to sleep off all those carbs,” I warned. “Better to get an omelet and fruit.”

  “You are no fun,” he said with a pout, squeezing me toward him before letting me go so he could grab the door.

  Sandy went through first and I followed, nodding at Darren in thanks for holding the door.

  Before I realized what was happening, my best friend squealed.

  I froze, my eyes darting around to see what she was squealing about when I saw her hug-tackle someone in front of her.

  It all slid into place when I saw the smiling face of who she was hugging over her shoulder.

  “Chris!” I blurted out and then got my own turn to hug him when Sandy let him go. It wasn’t until we had our arms around each other that I noticed the girl standing shyly behind him. But the way she was looking at me, I knew exactly who she had to be.

  I pulled out of the hug and looked up at Chris. “So great to see you! I can’t believe Tony didn’t say anything about you meeting us here,” I said to him and then turned to the girl. “Hi, I’m Vanessa Capri.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “Lindsay Giles, Chris’s girlfriend.”

  I continued to smile at her as I stuck out my hand, trying not to get defensive that she had made it very clear who she was to him. I could only imagine what she was going through as she was gearing up to say goodbye to him. “Great to meet you,” I said.

  “You, too,” she said in a friendly voice, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Chris turned to her. “She’s Tony’s daughter that I told you about. She’s filling in for Linda, the tour manager.”

  “And this is Sandrine Thibeault,” I said. “She’s doing a vlog series and
also social media for the band.”

  “Hi,” Sandy said, forgoing the handshake and pulling Lindsay into a full-on hug. “So nice to meet you. Please, call me Sandy.”

  Chris greeted the other guys amid a bunch of bro hugs and hand clasps. Then he asked about my dad.

  “He and Will are on the bus, they’ll be out in a few,” Andy said, clapping Chris on the back as Lindsay, who’d finally been released from Sandy’s hug, stared up at him in awe.

  “You’re...you’re Andres Castillo,” she said, suddenly looking a lot like the starstruck girls we were used to seeing at the meet and greets.

  Chris rolled his eyes. “Linds, you knew he was in the band. You’ve seen the posts and videos.”

  Her face was beet red as she dragged her eyes away from Andy and looked at her boyfriend. “I know, but...sorry...” she wiped her hands on the front of her shorts. “But this suddenly feels really real. You’re going to be one of them.” She leaned into him and added in a whisper, “With Andres Castillo.”

  Sandy laughed and put an arm around Lindsay’s waist, turning her toward the restaurant. “You’re not going to be as impressed when you see what kind of bear Andres Castillo is if he doesn’t get his coffee. Not to mention how much of a slob he is when he eats.”

  If only Lindsay had seen fangirl extraordinaire Sandy when she’d first met the band. But I didn’t say anything, letting the girls bond.

  “Let’s grab a table,” I said. “We can at least get some coffee poured while we wait for the others.”

  “You sit beside me,” Sandy said to Lindsay. “That way you can give me all the embarrassing dirt on Chris,” she added in a stage whisper.

  “Hey!” Chris said, but he was laughing as we all filed up to the hostess stand to get a table.

  That’s when I heard Lindsay lean into Sandy and ask, “Is it true that girls throw panties up on stage?”

  I almost laughed, remembering the conversation Chris and I had had back in New York about crazed fans; he must have shared his fears with her. Lindsay obviously didn’t think it was all that funny.