The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  Not wanting to get caught mooning at him as I worried about our relationship that might be over before it started, I stole my eyes away, pasted a smile on my face and greeted everyone, pretending to be eager to hear about how the concert went.

  Return to the Sofa of Truth

  It turned out the concert didn’t go well. Nothing specific happened to the guys or to hurt the show, and it wasn’t a disaster, by any means. But something was at play that made them agree it wasn’t their best performance by a long shot.

  Darren said his timing felt off. Graeme complained that he felt distracted, making him struggle with lyrics. Chris said he was still rusty, even though we’d been sure he was back on track. Even Max seemed more subdued than he had been in the past few days since his therapy had begun. Andy didn’t have a specific complaint, but was surly and even a bit pouty. More than I’d ever seen him (because unfortunately, I had seen him surly and pouty), so there was something going on.

  There were many possible reasons behind why the guys didn’t have the best show—Tony being absent, Will begging off sick, their lagging confidence over Phoenix, or even just bad mojo or simple fatigue (it wasn’t a full moon—I checked). I didn’t think for a second it had anything to do with me having the night off; I couldn’t possibly have that much influence over them. Did I?

  After hearing about the show, I felt guilty for having bailed, though I wasn’t sure what I might have done if I’d been there.

  Once I told them that Phoenix was now a sellout (keeping the reason why to myself) their moods improved. That news, along with Billy’s post-concert pep talk—where he reassured them that the crowd still enjoyed the show—delivered right before the arrival of a late night order of Chinese food, meant that by the time I climbed into my bunk, tired and full beyond words, they were laughing and joking.

  If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought the night’s concert had been one of their best. Whatever it was, I thought as I shimmied out of my clothes and tugged on my pajamas, I was just happy they were feeling more positive. We had a lot of shows to go yet, and we couldn’t afford for them to lose their confidence and motivation. They needed to kick musical butt every single night.

  Kiki hollered at them to keep it down now that I’d gone to bed, but knowing they’d be up for a while, I put in my earphones and opened up a white noise app on my phone. With that drowning out the chatter outside my bunk and my utter exhaustion, I was asleep within seconds.

  I woke up to the sound of a text message notification breaking through the white noise. Feeling like I’d been asleep for days in a cocoon, I grabbed my phone and swiped it to life. When I squinted at it, I was surprised to see I’d only been asleep less than two hours.

  You up? said the text from Will.

  I am now, I thought, but didn’t send that. Instead, I sent him a smiling emoji and: can’t sleep?

  I have news. sofa of truth?

  Ugh. So he was going to tell me Emmie was coming to Phoenix. I guess it was nice of him to want to give me the heads up, but I wasn’t really in the mood to roll my tired body out of bed just to hear what I already knew. Especially when I didn’t want to let on that I was feeling like a jealous idiot about it.

  I had hoped a good night’s sleep would help take the edge off and I’d feel better about Emmie coming out to see him and the rest of the band. But here in the middle of the night, before I’d had enough sleep, I was sure to be groggy and cranky on the sofa of truth. I definitely couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t get weird about it.

  It can wait until tomorrow, I assured him.

  The three dots taunted me for so long, I nearly fell asleep again.

  Ok, sorry if I woke u, he sent. It’s pretty big, though and I was hoping to get your thoughts.

  So that was weird. My thoughts? On his ex coming across the country to see him? Was he really so interested in what I thought about it that it was a middle of the night-type of conversation?

  I’m fine with it, I sent, thinking if I got ahead of his announcement, I could go back to sleep without having to leave the warmth of my bed.

  Wait...what are you fine with? Only just heard from Sammy.

  Sammy? I sent. Because seriously, who was Sammy? Some other ex? Or had it been a typo or autocorrect fail?

  Can you just come out and talk to me for 5 minutes? Please?

  Okay, so not an autocorrect fail. And now that I was curious, I was wide awake. I would never get back to sleep without finding out who Sammy was.

  On my way.

  The sofa of truth was on the driver’s side of the bus behind the wall that the TV hung on. The same wall that separated the lounge area from the cockpit. It was no accident that when we met up at night, we took the spot where Gary couldn’t see us without leaving his captain’s chair. That he normally listened to music (and often sang along) meant if we stayed fairly quiet, we could keep our conversation between us.

  It felt like it would be dangerously close joining Will on a sofa, but we could hardly have a private conversation speaking from opposite sides of the bus across a wide aisle. And really, there was no way either of us would make a move on each other with people just feet away, sleeping in their bunks. No matter how much we both wanted to. We’d already taken risks, but mauling each other on the bus was a bad, bad idea. And the kind of risk that neither one of us could afford.

  As I got to the front of the coach, I smiled when I heard Gary faintly singing along with an old Rolling Stones song, making me wonder if he knew the band. He was probably too young to have ever toured with them, but you never know. The music biz could be a very small one.

  Will was waiting for me, and I suspected he probably hadn’t even been to bed yet. As someone who suffered from insomnia, exacerbated by stress, it was no surprise he’d be having trouble sleeping. Especially if he was concerned with how I felt about Emmie coming.

  I nodded in greeting as I sat next to him on the couch, careful not to touch him, but close enough that I could feel heat radiating off him. In the chill of the air conditioner, it was hard not leaning into that warmth. Also, he always smelled really good, not making things any easier.

  “Hi,” I whispered. “What’s going on?”

  “For starters,” he said softly, giving me a shy smile as he reached up and tucked a hank of my hair behind my ear. “I’m going to say that while I’m sorry to drag you out of your bunk, I’m also going to be totally selfish and tell you that I’m happy to see you. You’re adorable right out of bed, you know.”

  “Shut up,” I said, keeping my mouth mostly closed as I belatedly wished I’d chewed a mint or had ducked into the bathroom for a quick swig of mouthwash before coming out to meet him.

  Although, I thought as I crossed my arms, if he got a whiff of bad middle-of-the-night breath, it would serve him right for dragging me out of bed. “So?” I asked.

  His smile faltered a little. “Right. So. I got a message today from Sammy Donal.”

  The name was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. “Who iiiiiis...”

  He swallowed like he was reluctant to tell me, which was weird. “Legion Thunder’s business manager.”

  “Okay...” I said, drawing out the word because I couldn’t figure out why his grandfather’s band’s business manager would be calling him. Was there some sort of trouble with song rights that had to do with the estate?

  “They’re doing a reunion tour in the fall.”

  Oh. I stared at Will for several long moments, trying to read his expression. But as much as we were often in sync, I couldn’t tell now what he was thinking. I swallowed and said, “And?”

  “They asked me to audition for them.”

  I stared at him blankly.

  “To maybe go on tour with them.”

  I nearly laughed because I had a sudden visual of all those guys on stage—four old guys and eighteen-year-old boy band hottie, Will Davidson.


  “That’s crazy,” I said.

  He nodded. “It is, I know. It’s...” he looked away and shoved his fingers through his hair.

  “Are you considering it?” I asked just as it occurred to me that he was, otherwise I’d still be in my bunk, fast asleep.

  “I don’t know, I...” he returned his gaze to mine. “Maybe. There’s a lot to think about.”

  “Your grandfather would be proud, you know.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know, Nessa. His life was crazy when they were all together. Those guys...”

  “Those guys are all members of AARP now, Will,” I said, looking earnestly into his eyes because he had to know it was true. “They are unlikely to drag you down into a life of debauchery. I’m sure they’ve traded in their fifths of whiskey for Metamucil and prune juice.”

  A chuckle escaped him. “You’re probably right. And swapped their illegal drugs for Viag—”

  I pressed my fingers into his lips. “Do not finish that sentence, boy band, or you’re going to make me lose my chow mein.”

  He grinned at me but shook his head. Then he looked down at his hands. “It would solve the problem of having too many guys on stage here...”

  It was true, but... “Not a good reason to join them, though.”

  “No, you’re right,” he conceded. “Just a bonus, I guess.”

  “You should talk to Tony,” I suggested because though my father would hate to lose him, he would be the objective voice of reason Will needed. Dad was always focused on what was best for careers, even if that meant losing one of his best musicians.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s the plan for sure. But I wanted to get your opinion.”

  “When do they go?”

  “Not until October, but they’re starting rehearsal soon. And they’re cutting a new album.”

  “What about school?”

  He shrugged. “I only need a couple of credits to graduate. I was thinking of doing them online.”

  So that was news. “What about college?”

  The way he looked at me made me think it was a stupid question. But it wasn’t. Just because he could be a rock star and make a ton of money didn’t mean a college education would be wasted.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You weren’t planning to go to college?”

  “Maybe someday,” he said with a non-committal shrug. It struck me as odd that I didn’t know this about him. I guess we’d never really talked about either of our lives beyond the summer. I realized in that moment that I’d made some naïve assumptions.

  Wiretap was supposed to be a summer band, at least, to begin with, touring from one festival to another to support the album. If the band was super-successful, they’d maybe do a few isolated gigs and some holiday shows around Christmas.

  But the plan had always been for them to return to school, with the exception of Andres, who had already graduated. Though by fall, he’d be on track to return to his solo career. But the other guys were young enough that they needed more schooling to graduate.

  I’d always just assumed Will would return to Westwood. That he wasn’t planning to, threw a wrench in my assumption that we’d be together through the school year. Panic landed in my gut like a lead chicken ball, because if he wasn’t returning to Westwood, when would we be together? What was the point of even being in a relationship if we’d never see each other?

  “What were you going to do after the summer, once your contract here is up?”

  “I was going to take a year off,” he said with an absent shrug. “Travel, maybe. Hang around Rosewood to be with my girlfriend,” he added with a sexy wink.

  Except the effect was lost when I realized something. “You know, Rosewood is filled with your exes, too.”

  His smile shrunk a little.

  That’s when Blurty McBitchypants made an appearance. “Speaking of, did you know Emmie’s coming to the Phoenix show?”

  His smile went ahead and completely disappeared. “What?”

  “She’s coming to the Phoenix show,” I repeated, feeling weirdly relieved that it seemed to be the first he’d heard of it.

  “How do you know?” he asked, frowning. “I didn’t think you were close.”

  “We’re not. Sandy’s been in touch with her.” I hadn’t planned to say more, but if they truly were friends, he’d find out soon enough. “They’re cooking up something up together. For the band to promote one of her charities, I think.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Okay. I mean, I knew Abe was coming. I was going to tell you that next, actually, but I didn’t realize...”

  “That’s cool he’s coming,” I said, feeling guilty for shoving the Emmie thing in his face. I reached for his hand but, realizing touching was a bad idea, let it go after I gave him a little squeeze. “I’m sure he’ll be really happy to see you perform.”

  “Yeah,” he said absently. “It’ll be weird. I mean, obviously I’ve talked to him since all of this happened, but...”

  He suddenly seemed shy, insecure.

  “He will be so freaking impressed,” I said.

  He nodded. “I know. I guess. It’s just...”

  “He going to ride you about the whole boy band thing?”

  “More than he already has?” Even with his head down, I saw his lips curve up. “Undoubtedly, but I think he’s happy for me.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course, he is.” I didn’t know his roommate very well, but if he was a decent guy and best friend, he’d be thrilled for Will and what he’d become.

  “Anyway,” he said looking up at me, making me slightly nervous about where this conversation was going next. “Chelly’s coming with him. You know her, right?”

  I nodded, thinking back to the night of the talent show when she’d inadvertently flashed the entire audience that included both schools. The night had gone down in infamy. Poor Seychelles would never live that down. “They’re dating?”

  He nodded and then smiled. “I never would have put those two together, but yeah. They’re surprisingly perfect for each other.”

  I didn’t know either of them well enough to comment though Seychelles hadn’t seemed like the type of girl to settle down with any guy.

  “But if they’re coming and Emmie’s coming, that probably means...” his face twisted up into an unreadable expression.

  “What?”

  “Maybe there’s a group of them?”

  That would make sense if Emmie had bought up a ton of tickets. “Like who?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “I don’t know, I’ll check with Abe tomorrow. But either way—I’m just happy some of those seats are going to get filled.”

  I got up from the couch then and wished him a good night, giving him a smile I wasn’t really feeling. Because I was suddenly very sure that not only one of his exes but two were going to be filling seats in that concert. Probably right up close in the front row, because Emmie didn’t do anything by halves.

  Blurty McBitchypants stayed silent on that fact, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it.

  After I left Will at the front of the bus, I used the bathroom and returned to bed without another glance toward him or his bunk. My mind was too busy whirling with everything we’d talked about: his offer from Legion Thunder, the Emmie thing, and even the whole situation with my mother, because, as I was learning, if one thing in my life was upsetting, inevitably my brain would tangle it up with everything else that I didn’t know how to deal with.

  So it was no surprise that when I did finally get to sleep, I had nightmares about being in a plane crash and the only person who would throw me a life preserver was Emmie. Except the life preserver was Will’s guitar, and when I grabbed onto it, I just sank, sank, sank to the bottom of the ocean. The soundtrack to the nightmare was the Legion Thunder song that Will had performed back in Portland, except he kept changing the lyrics from ‘moonlight in her eyes’ to
‘by moonlight, she dies.’

  So that sucked.

  Taking the Umph Out of Triumph

  It was the next morning, and we’d just arrived in Santa Fe. One day before Phoenix, and two days before I would see my mother.

  We had a full day and a concert to get through first before I had to deal with that other stuff, though.

  The guys, Billy, Gary, and Kiki, had all gone into the roadside diner to get breakfast while I’d stayed behind on the bus to give myself a bit of time to regroup.

  I needed a few moments to myself to get over the horrible night’s sleep I’d had. To say I was exhausted was the understatement of the year. I was resentful and irritated that I was on deck to do a job I never wanted in the first place. Sure, my dad had told me I wasn’t obligated to help out on tour after Linda’s injury but had I really had a choice?

  I sighed as I came to the conclusion that yes, I’d had a choice—my father had been clear on that fact. And I had to admit that I’d been actually having a mostly good time on tour. Until very recently.

  “You’re just tired and crabby,” I told myself as I stood in the tiny bus bathroom, staring into the mirror at the puffy, dark bags under my eyes. I thought about how I should go into the kitchen because surely there were a couple of Graeme’s cold, discarded tea bags on the counter that I could use to help with the swelling. Though maybe not after Kiki had read him the riot act about his gross habit.

  I sighed and flicked off the light, leaving the bathroom and looking longingly at my bed as I reached into my bunk and grabbed my phone, disconnecting it from the charger and turning it on.

  Problem was, no matter how tired I might be, there was no way I was getting any more sleep. There was too much to do so I resigned myself to a horrible and very long day ahead. Staying behind on the bus for a few minutes of quiet where I could clear my head and do some yoga breathing was going to have to be enough to keep me sane.

  I grabbed a pack of Pop Tarts and a coffee before I sat in the booth in the middle of the bus. I opened the package and had shoved one of the dry pastries into my face, chewing as I tapped out a text to Sandy. I wanted to both to check in and tell her I’d loaded some pictures of the guys onto the shared drive that she could use for social media posts.