“So, that’s a no?” I asked, embarrassed.
“Yes, it’s a no,” he said, suddenly seeming upset. I would have thought he’d have found it funny, but no. “Why would you think that, Nessa?”
I shrugged, feeling stupid again. “She’s your work wife.”
He stared at me for a long moment and then shook his head, looking really sad all of a sudden. “There’s nothing going on between Linda and I and even if there was...” he trailed off and waved his hand dismissively.
“You’re not going to get back with her, are you?” I asked, unable to keep the anger out of my voice.
“Vanessa,” he said. “I am just as shocked as you are. I know as much as you do about what’s happened. I have no idea how this is going to play out, but can you please give me some space to deal with it before you ask me questions like that?” It was said in a tone that he hadn’t used with me for years. One of exasperation, stress, and—if I remember correctly from the time right after she left, utter hopelessness.
Again, he wasn’t saying no.
I managed to take a breath and say “I’m not going with you.”
“Nessa,” Sandy said as she took a seat beside me, the leather letting out a soft whiff as she did.
“I’m not. I’m sorry you have to,” I said to her, even though jetting around with my father was still better than whatever would have happened to her after her parents were taken into custody. “But I don’t.”
“You’re still a minor,” my father reminded me. “So actually, you do.”
I narrowed my eyes at him then, channeling the anger at my mother, this situation, and now him, right at his face. “You’re going to force me to see her?”
“Hold on,” Dr. Carmichael said, turning to my father and putting a hand on his arm. “Maybe we can find a better compromise. I’m getting from Vanessa that she’s not ready to see her mother. I think you need to respect her need to process what’s happened.”
“She can process on the plane,” Dad said, glaring at me. “It’s your mother.”
“After what she did?” I squeaked out because suddenly my throat had all but closed. “After what she did to us?”
“Tony,” Dr. Carmichael said before Dad had a chance to say anything else. “I think maybe we can negotiate something better here than forcing Vanessa onto a plane. How about you go and give her some time to process this and then she can decide if and when she wants to see her mother.” Dad seemed to unclench a little at that. “No good will come of forcing her against her will. She’s nearly an adult, and you told me yourself how proud you are of her and the fine young woman she’s become. Trust her to make this decision for herself. That she knows what is best for her right now. I’ll be here, along with Kiki, Gary, and the rest of the crew. She will be well-supervised here.”
Oh, you’re good, I thought as I watched Dad unclench the rest of the way when Dr. Carmichael finished his little speech. He’d hit all the right buttons, making me feel better at the same time.
“Fine,” Dad said. “But Sandy, you’re coming with me. That’s not negotiable unless you want to get pulled into the foster care system while your parents are...indisposed.”
Resigned, Sandy nodded. “When do we go?” As she asked, she shot me a pleading look, which I ignored.
“This afternoon,” Dad said, missing my exchange with Sandy as he pulled out his phone. “Pack a bag with a couple days’ worth of clothes while I work out the details.”
“What about the band?” I asked. “Linda’s not well enough to come out here, is she?”
He looked up at me as though the fact that he had six guys and an entire crew under him, and there were several back-to-back concerts lined up had slipped his mind. “She would if I asked her to, but no. She needs to heal.”
He sighed. “With you staying behind, I think everything’s well in hand, but obviously I can’t just leave you to run things.”
Thank God. That the crew was experienced and top-notch meant I could handle the day to day stuff, but I did not want the responsibility of everything, even if only for a few days.
“Wait,” he said as a lightbulb seemed to go on over his head. He pulled his phone out and started poking at the screen before he held it to his face. “Hey. It’s Tony,” he said into it as he got up and made his way to the back of the bus as though he’d forgotten us. “It’s a long story that I’ll explain later, but how would you like to do me a favor?”
S’mores
While avoiding my dad’s gaze, because he still wasn’t totally accepting the fact that I was not going with him and I felt somewhat guilty about it, I helped Sandy pack. She hardly needed my assistance throwing a few things into her bag, but hovering over her while she got ready to travel with my father was about all I could manage at that point.
I was dithering, of course, but I wasn’t ready to see the boys until I absolutely had to. Especially not while I still looked like I’d spent a considerable amount of time bawling. The last thing I needed was a million questions from curious and well-meaning, but annoying, boys. It was bad enough Sandy knew. Though she’d been great about it—as someone with her own family secrets and drama that had come to a head recently, she was well-versed in the ‘sweep it under the rug, especially when dealing with people outside the family’ method of dealing.
Later, when I had no choice, I stood among the crowd backstage at the amphitheater while my father explained to everyone on the payroll that an emergency was forcing him and Sandy to fly to the east coast. He then explained that Billy Hopkins, his friend and the manager of Zen Garden (who was on a week-long break), was coming to fill in for him for the few days they’d be gone. Between Billy and me, Dad had assured everyone, they’d be in good hands.
While the boys were a bit surprised, none of them seemed upset that Billy was coming to help out. I certainly wasn’t—I figured Billy was the second-best person after my dad to be running things.
Then, without any fanfare, my father and my best friend hugged me and got into a hired car, heading to the airport.
Dad’s speech to the boys and crew had raised more questions than it answered, but everyone was just curious and not concerned; no one guessed the real reason why he’d left in such a hurry. That I’d stayed behind made them all think it was a business thing. If it had been a personal issue, of course, Tony’s daughter—his only living family—would have gone with him.
Right.
Whatever. I was happy that they thought it was business-related—thank you, Tony, for downplaying the drama and keeping a calm exterior. And while I supposed it was a lie by omission, it was one I needed to let them believe if I was going to stay focused and keep things together. Billy knew the business, but he didn’t know the ins and outs of our band. Nor did he know the individual guys well enough to jump in with both feet right away. Together we were going to have to run things, and without Dad around, I had to be on my game.
I didn’t expect any hiccups, though: Chris was almost completely up to speed on the songs, so it was the six of them on stage together for most of the set. They had already gotten creative with it—tagging out or changing things up, like in San Francisco where Will had taken lead vocals while Graeme brought out a keyboard, adding a new level to the arrangement of Pieces of You.
But not everything went perfectly all the time. That’s where a tour manager—someone to keep that machine well-oiled–was absolutely necessary.
Or so I told myself. A tiny part of my brain recognized I needed the distraction of work or I was going to have too much time to think. Too much thinking could easily cause me to go down a very scary spiral.
Dad must have known that was a possibility because when he’d hugged me goodbye, he’d whispered in my ear, reminding me that Dr. Carmichael was staying behind and would be happy to chat, should I need to.
I hoped I didn’t, but with my best friend gone, there was that chance. Although having
her with my father to witness the drama did have its advantages.
Fill me in as soon as you can, I sent her by text when I couldn’t stand it any longer. As I glanced at the clock in the corner of my phone screen, I was disappointed to see it had only been an hour. They wouldn’t even be on a plane yet, let alone in New York and at the house in the Hamptons. If that’s where my mother was even staying. I never thought to ask.
And wouldn’t that be awkward if she was there with Linda?
I will, Sandy sent back almost immediately. Don’t forget the fireworks 2nite.
We’d planned to have a fun evening with the boys where we’d make them forget they were missing their families.
Boy, did that suddenly feel ironic. Still, the distraction of planning a mini after-concert party did take my mind off things a little. We’d already bought a few picnic blankets and stuff for s’mores the day before. We couldn’t have a campfire out on the festival grounds, but I could use the kitchen on the bus to make them. I’d stuffed the food into my backpack to keep it all secret (and from being eaten), and I’d had Gary store the blankets under the bus with our big luggage.
But first, we needed to get through the concert. And while I waited for Billy to fly in, I would be on my own backstage. Not completely alone—the stage manager and production crew would be there as always—but suddenly it felt like a lot of pressure to make sure everything went perfectly.
Still, it was way better than the pressure of facing my mother, returned from the dead.
Some Serious Fireworks
“Thankth for all thith, Messa,” Darren said, his words slurred by the giant mouthful of s’mores. Graham cracker crumbs even shot out his mouth onto the blanket, making him laugh.
Making everyone laugh. Even me as I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re a slob,” I said, brushing the crumbs away.
He swallowed and shoved a finger in his mouth, digging around for, I presumed, gummed up cookie, only validating that whole slob thing.
“Messa,” he said, tilting his head as he seemed to be considering it. “That’s what I’m going to call you from now on.”
I blew him a raspberry but was secretly flattered that he was giving me a nickname.
“Still,” he added a moment later in a serious tone, looking me in the eye. “Thanks really. We appreciate it.”
The other boys spread over the two blankets nodded and added their own thanks.
“We wanted you to have a little something special,” I said. “Since you’re all away from your families today. We—and by we I mean Tony especially—recognize your sacrifice by being on tour.”
“Except you’re away from your family,” Will said from beside me, so quietly that maybe only I heard it. Leave it to him to notice. I looked at him and then quickly darted my eyes away because I didn’t want to get into it.
“Right,” Chris said loudly with a snort. “Because being paid to play music to adoring fans is a huge sacrifice.”
“You’ve been on tour less than a week, wanker,” Graeme said. “Wait until you have to wait for Will to pretty himself up in the loo for an hour while your bladder is bursting and then you’ll know firsthand the sacrifice.”
“Or have to follow Gary in the bathroom,” Darren said as he licked some marshmallow off his fingers. “That guy’s love for bean burritos is unhealthy if you know what I mean.”
Okay, so that was a bit TMI about our driver (who was sitting in his lawn chair, laughing along—but not denying the accusation—with the rest of the guys) so I grabbed the empty plate and got up to get more snacks from the bus.
Several moments later, after checking my phone again and cursing that I hadn’t heard anything from my father or Sandy, other than that they’d arrived safely, I was arranging the chocolate on the graham crackers when I heard the bus door open. I glanced up to see Will coming up the stairs. Something in my chest fluttered at seeing him, but I quickly looked down at the plate, reminding myself that we weren’t dating on tour.
Except that flutter continued. Especially when I realized the door had closed quickly behind him; he was alone. Meaning we were alone.
Dangerously alone.
“Hey,” he said, coming over to stand behind me. Close behind me. So close that amid the chill of the bus’s A/C, I could feel the heat coming off him.
“Hi,” I returned, focusing on arranging the squares of chocolate just right.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep,” I said, moving a square slightly to the left, so it was precisely centered.
“Nessa.” One word. That’s all it took.
Damn him for being so freaking intuitive. I took in a staggered breath, willing myself to keep it together when, without a word, his hands came to my shoulders, turning me into him. As he pulled me close, my face pressed into his shirt—a soft, clean one, that he’d just changed into after his post-concert shower. He smelled fresh and good, the scent enveloping me in comfort and somehow blotting out the world. At least for a few minutes.
As I stood there, inhaling him, I had a fleeting thought of how I could identify all the band members just by smell. Close quarters and all. Although, by far, Will’s scent was my absolute favorite.
Finally, because it couldn’t last forever, he spoke, the sound a rumble against my cheek. “I’ve been waiting all day since your dad left to get you alone so we could talk. Holding you is nice, too, but are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“No.”
“Nessa,” he said like he was talking to a petulant child. Which I guess he sort of was. “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“You can’t help,” I said to his chest, rubbing my cheek against his shirt as my arms tightened around him. My palms pressed into the firm muscles of his back and he let out a tiny groan of pleasure as I kneaded a little. He’d complained that his back and shoulders were tight and sore from playing more than he’d been used to, so I knew it would feel good.
After a moment, he must have realized I was stalling and said my name again.
“There’s nothing you can help with,” I assured him, snuggling into him more.
“Try me.”
Keeping my arms around him, I pulled back and looked up into his face, into his eyes that were half-closed as he looked down at me. He wasn’t trying to be sexy, he was trying to be thoughtful and caring. Supportive. A good guy. But while he was all those things, the sexy part was a given. Probably even more so because he was all those other things.
“Try you?” I said, allowing my right hand to slide up and around his neck, making him shiver in a way that was very satisfying for my ego.
Still, he seemed to shake it off mentally. He nodded and said in a caring, but very disappointingly businesslike tone, “Maybe I can help.”
He couldn’t turn back time to the day before when my mother was still dead. When Dad and I were blissfully ignorant. When I knew precisely and unerringly how I felt about her. When my life still made sense.
But as I looked up at him, at his tousled hair, blue eyes filled with concern, and groomed eyebrows that were begging me to let him in, I realized he could help. Just maybe not in the way he was offering.
“All right. I’ll ‘try you,’” I said as I threaded my fingers into the hair at his nape and pulled him down for a kiss.
He grunted in surprise, but it didn’t take more than a fraction of a second for him to get on board and lean into me, his lips moving against mine. He pulled me closer, and I felt his tongue against the seam of my mouth.
My heart pounded in my chest as I parted my lips and he deepened the kiss, reminding me of how he’d professed his love for me just a few days ago. If the kiss hadn’t been hot before that (which it was, it really was), it pretty much burst into flames at that thought.
He pulled back, just enough that we were no longer kissing, but our mouths were separated by a mere breath. “We shouldn
’t,” he muttered, and as my lids fluttered open, I saw his eyes were still closed. Like he didn’t want to break the spell.
Yeah, well, me neither.
I lowered my lids as I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, tasting him. Not caring what we should or shouldn’t do in that moment.
Because my mother should never have left. Should have cared enough not to abandon her husband and only child. Should have stayed missing.
“Nessa?” Will said, moving back away from me, further this time. “What’s going on?”
“I’m...I think it’s obvious,” I said, moving toward him to resume the kiss.
He stepped back, holding me at arm’s length as he cocked his head and looked at me strangely. “No, seriously. You seem...something’s wrong.”
“You don’t like kissing?” I challenged.
He snorted. “Is that a serious question?” I was about to answer him when he looked away toward the back of the bus and said, “I like kissing. I like kissing you. A lot, Nessa. But I can tell...I ...something’s going on with you, and I don’t want to be used as a distraction.”
“I’m not using...you’re not...” I stopped talking and exhaled because he was right. “Damn.”
“Nessa, come on. You were the one who was adamant that you didn’t want to do anything on tour. You respect your dad too much.”
Crossing my arms, I said, “Yeah, well, things have changed some.”
It was so out of character for me to say it that I was shocked it had fallen from my mouth. The look on Will’s face told me he was, too.
“What does that mean?”
I shook my head. “Family stuff.”
But that just raised more questions. “Is that why he took off?”
“Yeah,” I said as my throat got tight and began to burn.
“Is he okay?”
It was clear he was going to just keep asking questions until he wheedled it out of me. “Yeah, so apparently my mother isn’t dead,” I blurted out.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 66