And then that thought made me cry even harder.
“Vanessa?” a deep voice from beside me said. By his Israeli accent, I knew exactly who it was without looking. Not the absolute worst person to run into, but a complication I didn’t need.
I closed my eyes and cursed in my head. A second later, I opened them to see Ven, the behemoth security guy standing in front of me.
“Are you okay? What’s happening?” he reached for his radio, and I could only imagine he was two seconds away from calling in the rest of the cavalry.
“Nothing,” I said through my sobs. “Nothing that you can help with,” I added when it was obvious it couldn’t be nothing.
“I’m just...I need a minute, okay? Family drama.”
I walked away from him but felt his presence following. I stopped and turned around. “I’m not going far. Can I have some space? It’s a secure lot. I’m fine.”
He looked conflicted but eventually nodded, and I resumed my escape, getting as far away from the bus as possible.
Seconds later: “Nessa?”
Ugh. Seriously? As I looked up, the pink-haired Kiki was coming toward me from the direction of the amphitheater, concern on her face because there was no hiding that I was a complete and total mess. “Nessa, what’s wrong? Stefan said Ven radioed him that you’re upset.”
I shook my head and kept going, except... where was I going?
I stopped and wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my t-shirt, giving Kiki time to catch up with me.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her hand coming around my forearm in a gentle but firm grip. I almost laughed because she was clearly psychic: I had just been about to bolt.
Still not ready for speech, I shook my head again, definitely not ready to explain.
“Take deep breaths,” she instructed as she pulled me into her for a hug. For someone who wasn’t a parent, she sure had the whole back-rubbing, shushing noises thing down. If I didn’t know better, I might have mistaken her for a mother. But then that thought got me going again because apparently all of a sudden I had a mother again. Although the one I had was the worst kind of mother.
“Shhhh, Nessa, shhhhh,” Kiki crooned into my ear. “It’s okay. Whatever he did, we’ll work it out.”
I pushed back from her and sniffled. “What? What who did?”
She glanced at the bus and then back at me. “I assume one of the guys did something.” She screwed up her mouth into a lopsided frown. “Andy, I’m guessing.”
I snorted. “No,” I hiccupped, feeling like a five-year-old before I managed to say, “Not boy drama. Real drama.”
Her eyebrows went up.
Now that I was slightly less hysterical, I was starting to notice looks coming from the people milling around—techs and crew members for other bands. I looked over my shoulder to see Ven standing a respectful distance away, arms crossed, his gaze unapologetically trained on us—he didn’t look away when we locked eyes.
While I appreciated his commitment to keeping us safe, it could be unnerving. I looked back at Kiki. “Where are the boys?”
She nodded her head toward the big amphitheater that had a nondescript one-story building at the back of it. It would contain green rooms and bathrooms, along with the necessary electrical and other equipment stuff. “Backstage, where I was headed. I was just checking on Randy to see if he and the guys would bring the trunks over when Stefan told me you...” she shrugged, not bothering to finish.
“Is there a bathroom?” I asked, quickly adding, “Away from where the guys are, I mean?”
“If I say yes, will you tell me what’s going on?”
I nodded. “Just get me away from the bus.”
She sighed but didn’t say anything more as she looked over my shoulder and nodded at Ven. Then she grabbed my arm and led me toward the back of the amphitheater.
Bathroom Wisdom
I’d always liked Kiki for her ‘take no crap’ attitude and great sense of humor, not to mention her amazing skills with making people—especially rock stars—look perfect and larger than life. But on this tour, as I was living with her and getting to know her in new ways, I was learning her skills were much broader. They extended to things like excellent listener, caring friend, and most importantly right now, voice of reason.
Even when she was so shocked that she was, at first, rendered speechless.
We were in a bathroom backstage—a single washroom with one sink and toilet that we’d locked, meaning we would not be interrupted. She was leaning with her butt against the sink, her ankles and arms crossed as I’d told her my story. I stood in front of her, explaining through my tears how that one phone call had made everything go completely fubar. She thankfully knew the backstory on my mom, so I didn’t have to fill her in on that part.
She listened quietly and then while it sunk in, did that gaping fish mouth thing for a while. Finally, she shook her head. “Nessa, that is...wow...I don’t know what to say.”
Neither did I. I swallowed and reached for a paper towel from the dispenser, glad I hadn’t bothered with makeup.
“What’s he going to do?” she asked.
I swallowed again, hoping I was done with the hiccups, and said, “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly stick around to find out.”
“That’s...” she sighed before continuing. “I wonder what happened. Where’s she been? How did she even get back here? She wouldn’t have paperwork or a passport or anything. Has the government been involved?”
I hadn’t even though about the logistics of her return. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” she said, pushing away from the sink. “We need to find out. We need to go talk to your dad.”
I dropped my head, fresh tears falling. “No. I can’t, I...”
Kiki’s hands landed on my shoulders. “Nessa, you can’t avoid this. I know it’s hard and you haven’t forgiven her—I don’t blame you, honestly—but you have to face this and get through it. If only to support your dad.”
It was the last sentence that got me. I closed my eyes as she pulled me into another hug. “While you think you don’t need closure and to find out what happened, he does. And I do think that once the shock wears off, you’ll realize you do, too.”
I muttered a bunch of curses into her shoulder.
“I know,” she said, pulling me tighter. “I feel the same.”
Then she pulled back, keeping her hands on my upper arms, and looked into my eyes. All traces of her normal humor were gone. “I hate her for what she did to you and Tony. I thought Linda was going to lose her mind over it, too—I think she nearly did. But you still deserve to know what happened. Maybe...maybe she’s here to beg forgiveness.”
“She’ll never get it,” I said.
Kiki nodded in understanding. “Maybe not. And maybe she doesn’t deserve it. But you and Tony do deserve to know.”
She was right. No matter how much I hated that it was true or that I never wanted to see that woman again, Kiki was right that we deserved to know. And I guess now that an explanation was possible, I realized I needed one. One of the hardest parts of dealing with her death was the lack of closure. The never knowing what could have been and that she didn’t have the chance to see her mistake. To try to fix it.
“I can’t watch him go through that again though,” I said. “It nearly killed him.”
Kiki’s eyes softened as she took a deep breath. “I know. But we won’t let anything happen to him. We’re a family.”
I appreciated that she didn’t shove in my face how it nearly killed me, too.
“He still loves her,” I said for some reason. Why, I don’t know. I sure didn’t need to add more shock value to this conversation.
She shook her head. “He’s loyal to a fault, and I’m sure he feels he needs to hear her out, but I can’t imagine he does. Maybe as the mother of his much-beloved daughter,” she said, giving me a sad sm
ile. “But romantically? Like, enough to try to reconcile? I don’t know, Nessa. I can’t see that happening after all this time.”
The thought of them reconciling hadn’t even occurred to me. When I’d accused him of still loving her, I’d meant that I was afraid he’d forgive her, let her get away with what she’d done, not that I ever thought for a second he’d want to get back with her. To try to make us a family again.
As my brain started down that road, Kiki interrupted my thoughts. “Anyway. You need to go talk to him. You don’t want him to think he’s in this alone.”
“If he gets back with her, he will be,” I said.
“Cross that bridge,” Kiki said as she finally let go of me to reach for the door. She unlocked it and then stopped, turning to look me in the eye. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone, okay? We’re with you—Linda, Cliff, me and everyone else. We’re with you and Tony no matter what.”
It helped. It helped a lot. Probably more than I ever thought it could. But it didn’t make it any easier to convince myself that I had to walk back to that bus.
I sent Kiki out of the bathroom to go join the boys, telling her she could get back to work and that I needed to use the facilities anyway. We were used to being in close quarters on the bus but not that close.
After she gave me a long, assessing look and I assured her I would go back to see my dad, she nodded and left me alone in the bathroom.
Finally, a moment to myself so I could try to process everything.
My mother. My long-lost, presumed-dead mother was back and at our door, looking for us.
As much as I felt sorry for myself, I felt even worse for Linda, who would have been the one to open the door to see the ghost standing there in the flesh.
Like Kiki, Linda wasn’t a mother, but she could sure play one on TV. I could imagine she’d want to scratch my mother’s eyes out after opening that fateful door. I allowed myself the mental image of Linda tackling my mother in the doorway, taking her down to the marble.
“So violent, Vanessa,” I said to my reflection, admonishing myself for the bloodthirsty smirk that had appeared on my face.
Then it occurred to me how much more horrible it would have been for Linda if she was involved with my dad, which I’d suspected for some time.
That made me feel even worse for her; that’s a lot of unexpected baggage to get hit with in a relationship. And what the hell was my dad supposed to do now? What were we all supposed to do?
Looking around the backstage bathroom, I was instantly reminded that we were on tour. One that was supposed to go on for the rest of the summer. The boys needed Dad—so much depended on him.
Once I mopped up my face and realized there was no improving my look without the benefit of some eye drops, cold compresses, and time, I sighed and left the bathroom.
When I got into the hall, I heard the faint echo of shouts and laughter that I recognized as coming from the guys. They had no idea of the turmoil Dad and I had just been thrown into.
While I didn’t want to burden them with our problems, our very personal problems, I had a sudden ache to see Dave...Will. I didn’t want to tell him what had happened, but I did want the comfort of his arms around me. Because I knew, without a doubt, he would get it. He’d get why it felt like my heart had just been removed from my chest with a rusty spoon. And maybe he’d help me fill that hole up.
He’d said back in Portland that he loved me. That he’d realized it ages ago, well before we had come together. Before he was even on my radar—at least consciously. If I really thought about it, I’d have to admit that he’d been on my radar since that day at Rosewood when he’d killed it on stage during the talent show.
When he played with every ounce of his heart and soul. The moment I knew he would be a rock star.
But now, after we’d spent the past weeks together, getting to know each other better as people, that he was a rock star was secondary to what he really was to me—friend, confidante, fellow insomnia sufferer. And maybe most importantly, soon-to-be boyfriend.
“Please come out, please come out,” I muttered there in the echoey hall, not brave enough to go get him, but wanting him to catch my sad and needy telepathic brain waves and come find me.
He didn’t.
And after I couldn’t put it off any longer, I girded my loins, whatever that even means, and made my way back to the bus.
Family Divided
I took a deep breath and pulled open the door to the coach. The second I did, all voices abruptly stopped. There was no turning and running, no matter how much I suddenly wanted to obey that flight response. I’d never been much of a fighter, after all.
“Nessa?” my father said, the signature shuffling of his bus slippers telling me as I started up the stairs that he was coming to meet me.
“Dad, I—” was as far as I got before he pulled me into a crushing hug. Which I suddenly returned with equal force.
“It’s okay, we’re okay,” he said, over and over into my hair as we clutched each other hard.
Finally, we pulled back, and I had to look away from his tear-stained face or else I would come undone all over again. Sandy was sitting quietly at the booth in the center of the bus, dabbing at her own tears with a crumpled paper towel. God, was there anywhere I could focus my eyes that wouldn’t set me off again? Hell, who was I kidding? Another meltdown was imminent.
But as I swept my gaze around the bus, trying to delay the inevitable, I saw the bottom of a leg poking out from behind the curtain that cordoned off the office at the very back of the bus.
Normally, I wouldn’t recognize someone by their pant leg and shoes alone, but I’d already gotten used to seeing those loafers. They belonged to Dr. Curtis Carmichael, the shrink my dad had flown in to help Max with his grief over his girlfriend’s death. It had only been a couple of days since he’d arrived, but Max’s intense sessions had been held at the back of our coach when it was otherwise deserted—during sound check or when the guys were elsewhere working out.
That he was on the bus now made sense. Dad had been through a lot of therapy to help get through my mother’s departure and subsequent (apparent) death, so it made sense that he’d turn to Dr. Carmichael now when stuff got real again. Really real.
I took a breath and looked back at my father. “Now what?”
He exhaled, making me realize how much stress affected our breath (I had a fleeting thought that maybe it was time to return to yoga) and said, “We fly home.”
What? I blinked at him. “Fly home? To New York? We’re in Salt Lake City. In the middle of tour.”
He looked at me incredulously, like I was the one being unreasonable. “Your mother just returned from being lost at sea for five years.”
Clearly, we were still not on the same page when it came to the issue of her. “You have responsibilities here,” I said, crossing my arms. Until I realized it made me look defensive. I dropped them at my sides, wishing my pants had pockets.
Dad’s lips pressed together into a line as he seemed to consider my words. Or, more likely, the meaning behind them. “We’re flying home,” he finally said in a very decisive tone.
“We?”
“Yes, Nessa. We. She’s your mother.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, my arms crossing again. I left them this time because the defensive stance felt necessary.
The leg at the end of the bus shifted, and as my gaze flicked toward the movement, in its place, the entire man appeared. It only took a few steps for him to join us. “Why don’t we talk about this,” Dr. Carmichael said as he placed a hand on my father’s shoulder. “This is big news that affects both of you and in different ways.”
Spare me from shrinks, I wanted to say. The last thing I wanted was to sit and talk about how I felt about my mother’s surprise return. But maybe having a mediator wasn’t a bad idea right now. Because there was no way I was flying home. D
efinitely not to see my mother. Perhaps having a doctor on my side to help me get that through my dad’s skull wasn’t a bad idea.
“Let’s have a seat,” Dr. Carmichael said, gesturing toward the couch.
Sandy sniffled and then slid from the bench seat. “I should go,” she said. “This is private.”
My father looked over at her. “May as well stay—this affects you, too.”
Sandy frowned and cocked her head. “How?”
“I promised the social worker that you would be in my care, which means you’re coming with us to the east coast.”
Oh, now there’s a twist I hadn’t been expecting. My best friend’s eyes widened as she processed this. She glanced out toward the amphitheater and then back to my dad. “But...the band...what about all the social media—I can’t...”
He shook his head. “We won’t be gone long. You can do a lot virtually. Although...maybe if I flew her here...”
“No,” I said quickly. “No one needs the distraction of her here.” Least of all me.
Dad sighed as though he heard my thought.
Dr. Carmichael waved toward the couch for me to sit between him and my father. Instead, I took a seat on the one across from them on the other side of the bus.
“Why can’t you just talk to her on the phone?” I suggested. When what I wanted to say was, “Why not just let Linda push her into the ocean? For good this time.” Although when the thought appeared in my head, guilt washed over me.
Which made me feel stupid. After what that woman had done to me and Dad, I hated that she could make me feel anything at all.
Speaking of Dad’s assistant. “What about Linda?”
Dad did a double-take. “What? What about her?”
The look on his face gave me doubts, but: “Aren’t you a thing?”
“A thing?” he asked, confused. “Wait, are you asking if Linda and I are dating?”
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 65