The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  It was a pretty speech, but while the romantic part of me wanted to believe him, the rest of me didn’t. Believing him, hoping he meant what he said, and that he wasn’t just getting caught up in the romance of living on a bus with me right across the aisle, was only going to lead to bigger heartbreak. Better not to go down that road at all.

  I twisted my lips up into a sardonic smirk as I took that heart he was offering me and threw it on the ground. “You get that line from one of your romantic movies, boy band?” And then, because I didn’t do things by halves, I did a Riverdance on it. “Because it’s pure cheese.”

  His lip quivered, and he blinked at me several times while I stared back at him, counting to ten to keep my resolve, even as I was overcome with self-loathing.

  Then, I got the reaction I had been working for when his eyes narrowed, and he set his jaw. “Fine then, I guess that tells me pretty clearly how you feel about me.”

  It didn’t. It was the absolute opposite of how I felt about him. I wanted to yell that out loud and throw myself into his arms and beg for his forgiveness. But I couldn’t, no matter how much it was killing me to hurt him like this.

  Deep down I wanted him to call me on it, to tell me he knew I was full of it and to stop with the act. But I was in full-on panic mode because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was going to be leaving me and best to get this done now. It was better for him, too, I told myself. A clean break was necessary.

  Which, of course, meant I needed to pick off the entire scab.

  “You never answered my question,” I said in as cold a voice as I could muster. “Are you going on tour with them?”

  He paused and looked at me for a long moment. “They officially invited me on board tonight. I told them I was going to sleep on it, but I wanted to talk to you first.” He worked his jaw, and I wanted to die with how he looked at me just then. “But now that I know where you and I stand, yes, I’m going to go on tour with them.”

  My heart fractured in my chest, but I managed a curt nod. “Good.”

  His eyes searched mine then, but I stared back at him, unwavering, unmoving. It was about the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  Finally, he broke the gaze first, looking down. “They’re great guys, and Tony says it’s a good move for me. Obviously, I trust him.”

  “You should. He wouldn’t lead you wrong.” Truth. It felt wrong to be mad at my father for doing what was best for Will, but I couldn’t help it.

  “And it solves the problem of too many guys in Wiretap.”

  Another truth. But you belong in Wiretap, I wanted to scream at him.

  But I just nodded, resigned. Heartbroken.

  “Anyway,” I said. “That’s all there is to say. You should go be with your friends. They’re here for you, after all.” Realizing he’d taken his hand away from my knee, I stood up and crossed my arms, unable to walk away from him just yet, even though I needed to.

  He rose from the chair and came toward me.

  “Don’t,” I said, stepping back.

  “Nessa, don’t...don’t make it end like this,” he said, coming forward again to close the gap between us. “I understand that you don’t want to be with me, but can’t we be friends?”

  “No,” I said as I shook my head, putting my hands out to keep him from getting any closer, looking away. “I don’t think we can.”

  When I glanced up at his face and saw more pain there than I could handle, I did the only thing I could.

  I ran away.

  Big Girl Panties

  A few minutes later, I stood in the hotel bathroom, mopping up tears as I stared at my pathetic, blotchy face in the mirror. It was then that I realized maybe running hadn’t been my best plan of action. Because now what was I supposed to do? How could I go back to that meeting room after what had just happened?

  At the same time, I couldn’t bail on everyone, could I? After what Emmie had done for the band, I couldn’t just not return to thank her and see everyone off, no matter how much I really, really wanted to.

  I pulled out my phone and texted Sandy: did Will return?

  I waited, my anxiety ratcheting up and up with every passing second. Two tissues later, she finally responded: Not sure. I left w Max right after u.

  Ugh. Just when I needed her to be my scout.

  No babies on tour, Sandrine, I sent back. Half joking, half not at all.

  Shut up. What happened w Will?

  Nothing, I typed back automatically, even though it was a giant lie. I’d confided in her that they’d asked him to audition, but not all the details, especially the ones where I was so conflicted. Though she was my best friend, so probably could guess. He’s joining LT.

  Wow. When?

  Well, that sure was a good question. One I didn’t have an answer to.

  ? Tour starts in Oct. but rehearsal?

  How do u not know?

  I sighed and reached for another tissue as I swiped my phone with my one thumb. Fight.

  Tell me.

  Later, I sent because I wasn’t going to get into it over text. Not that we ever had any real privacy on the bus, but now was definitely not the time. I had enough on my plate, trying to figure out what to do.

  Except as I stood there, staring at myself, I realized there was only one thing I could do: put on my big girl panties and go back to that meeting room. I mean, seriously, I lived on that bus with Will, so I was going to have to see him sooner or later. Maybe it was better that the first time we encountered each other after that conversation from hell was where other people were present. That would at least smooth over the rough edges.

  And thanks to my panic-induced mean streak and the return of Blurty McBitchypants, there were a lot of edges.

  I sighed, my shoulders hunching as I came to the conclusion that I owed Will an explanation.

  And one hell of an apology.

  Reminding myself that I had created my own drama and deserved whatever was waiting for me in that reception room didn’t make it any easier to go in. I’d fixed my face as best I could, resisting the urge to go out to the bus for makeup. I was afraid if I went out there, I’d chicken out and not return.

  But now that I stood in the hallway, listening to the voices—talking and laughing—well, let’s just say if I was a nail-biter, I’d be down to just nubs for fingers.

  Still, there was no avoiding it; Emmie deserved a face to face thank you, at the very least. Also, I owed Will that apology. Or at least a few words to let him know a big apology was coming once we got a few minutes alone and I could explain.

  I also owed it to myself not to be a coward.

  I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face, and took the few steps through the doorway and into the room. As I scanned my eyes over the people scattered around the couches and the buffet tables, I quickly came to the realization that Will wasn’t there. Neither were Linda or my father, which made sense since it was late here in Phoenix and they were still on New York time, making it the middle of the night for them. Although Billy was gone, too, so maybe they’d gone to see him off, since he was grabbing a red-eye flight.

  “Vanessa!” Emmie smiled as she came toward me. She held a glass of soda in her one hand, so could only manage an awkward side hug with the other. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

  “Hi!” I said, not answering her, though it hadn’t exactly been a question. “Did Will come back here?” I asked as casually as I could.

  “Yeah,” she said, gently leading me over to the couch where Linda had been before. “He grabbed some food and then he and Abe—Jared, I mean—left soon after. Maybe to see the bus or catch up on their bromance,” she added with a sweet grin.

  I returned a smile I wasn’t feeling, but she didn’t seem to catch on. Nor did she seem to be affected by the fact that she was still on New York time, too. I had an odd thought that maybe she was made of pure ener
gy—a thought I sometimes had about Sandy. Until I saw her sleep like the dead, that is.

  “But don’t you dare run off to join them,” she said as she grabbed my wrist and tugged me down to sit beside her.

  I managed to keep from snorting at the thought and just shook my head at her. Not much chance of that happening.

  “Good,” she went on. “Because we want to hear the story.”

  “Huh?” I said. Could they know what had just happened?

  “None of us knows the story of how Dave came to be in this band.”

  Ah. That story.

  “We asked Abe, of course, but even he doesn’t seem to know much. Right, Chelly?”

  I looked up, and there was Chelly, and beside her, Brooklyn.

  “No,” Chelly said and then she made a weird face. Then, she was suddenly telling Emmie to scooch over so she could sit between us.

  What is happening?

  I had to scooch, too, to make room, though Chelly was still pretty much right on top of me. And then she clasped her hands in front of her as though in prayer as she looked at me earnestly.

  “But first... Oh my God, Vanessa, I’m so sorry. I was such a bitch earlier. And even if I didn’t realize that already, which I did, but only when it was too late, I was helpfully reminded by many, many people here,” she looked pointedly around at her friends, “that my mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes. I’ve already apologized profusely to Brooklyn and Brady, and they very graciously forgave me, so I hope you will, too.”

  I looked up at Brooklyn, who was nodding and then rolled her eyes. While Coach Fleming was over at the food tables, chatting with Darren, Chris, and Graeme, I figured Brooklyn’s gesture spoke for him.

  I returned my gaze to Chelly. She was giving me such a sad, doe-eyed look that I couldn’t help but smile at her. “Of course.”

  She let out a loud breath and threw an arm around me before she did a one-eighty. “Great. So now that we’re besties again, tell us all about Dave,” she paused and screwed up her face into a frown. “But wait, you do know he’s allergic to shrimp, right because if—”

  “CHELLY!” no fewer than three people around us said.

  “Right,” she said with a laugh and a sheepish grin. “Of course you know. Don’t mind me. Anyway, okay, let’s hear the story.”

  It was weird having them all watching me expectantly. I felt like I was in the spotlight without the benefit of an instrument to focus on like earlier that day. But it’s not like I had anything better to do while I waited to deliver my apology, so as the girls (and Coach Fleming, who drifted over then) sat, huddled around me, rapt like I was a kindergarten teacher reading a favorite Dr. Seuss, I told them the story of how I ‘discovered’ Will Davidson and how it came to be that he joined Wiretap.

  While I was sure the girls would have appreciated hearing the whole story, I did leave out the parts that were too personal, like anything confessed in the sauna or on the sofa of truth. I wasn’t about to betray those confidences.

  Oh and the kissing. I didn’t mention any of the kissing, not even the fact that they had all been shellfish-free.

  Ven’s Diagram

  Inevitably, though it didn’t happen until much later than I would have expected, everyone who hadn’t already left became overcome with fatigue.

  Jared never had returned with Will, but no one seemed all that surprised. It made sense that two best friends were reconnecting after time away from each other in which so much had happened.

  And while I felt bad that I was likely part of the reason for his disappearance, I was relieved at the same time.

  Andres had quietly disappeared, too, which wasn’t a big surprise.

  Chelly announcing she was done for the night was a trigger for everyone else to get moving, cueing a lot of yawns and stretching.

  Just as well, since it was nearly time for us to get on the road to El Paso anyway.

  Sandy (who’d finally returned with Max, both of them looking more rumpled than two people who were ‘just talking’ should have) poked her head out into the hall but didn’t see Will and Jared. She suggested that maybe they’d gone up to Jared’s room for some privacy.

  Then it was time for hugs all around. Emmie, Chelly, and even Brooklyn all embraced me in turn. I’ll admit I didn’t hate it as much as I would have thought.

  Because I liked these girls—they were all nice and fun to be around, Chelly’s blurted faux pas notwithstanding. I even believed them when they promised to keep in touch. I’d only really known Brooklyn before, and even then just through equestrian practice, but it felt like we’d bonded.

  I was already looking forward to seeing them at school in the fall.

  Same with Coach Fleming, but for a different reason. Although I had to keep reminding myself not to think of him as my hot equestrian coach anymore. (At least, not only that—I still had eyes, and as long as I did, that guy was always going to look good in riding pants.) Because not only was he school staff, but as I’d gotten to know him in this different setting, I saw he was also a really nice guy, if a little reserved. Brooklyn’s really nice guy who was totally smitten with her. In fact, the way they looked at each other was pretty nauseating. In an adorable way.

  Nope, it was just nauseating.

  In the end, we said our goodbyes and the Westwood/Rosewood crew all trudged out of the room while the rest of us moaned enviously about full-sized beds. We scavenged the last of the buffet tables, old pros at wrapping stuff in paper plates and napkins. Once finished, we were met at the door by Ven, who was looking serious.

  More serious than usual, that is.

  “What is it?” I asked, my heart lurching, though if it had been really serious, he would have come to get us earlier.

  “I presume you’re heading out to the bus?”

  “After a stop in the bathroom, I’m guessing probably for everyone,” I looked around; Sandy and the guys were all nodding.

  “All right. Listen up, everyone,” he said in a commanding voice that he’d probably cultivated back in the army. “Once everyone’s done, we will go out to the bus together as a group. Stefan is out there already and will unlock the door.”

  “Ven, what’s going on?” Sandy asked, looking freaked out as she spoke what everyone else was wondering.

  His eyes were on me when he answered. “Your father let us know that there might be more media attention soon, so we’re just being extra diligent.”

  I glanced toward the front door of the hotel, my mouth going suddenly very dry as I got flashbacks from when the story of my mother’s plane crash had broken and the media had descended upon us. My entire body felt like it was filling with dread—like it was a bad drug that had been injected into my blood.

  But seriously, my life was about to get stupid.

  Ven must have read my mind. Or perhaps the pained expression on my face. “Nothing’s happened,” he said reassuringly. “Everyone already out there is fine, and no reporters have shown up yet. We’re just being extra cautious.”

  Not that they weren’t already cautious, but we all knew reporters hungry for a dishy story could be unrelentingly persistent.

  I nodded and sighed before I said, “Just a matter of time. Buckle up.”

  Ven, who was no stranger to media chaos, just nodded—maybe humoring me—before he swept his eyes over us and said, “All right, let’s go. Anyone who doesn’t need the bathroom may as well use it anyway.”

  Sandy snorted. “You sound like a kindergarten teacher.”

  Ven smiled down at her. “Sometimes I feel like one.”

  Only about seven minutes later, we all went through the sliding doors of the air-conditioned hotel, every single one of us groaning as we emerged into the oppressive heat. But seriously, it still felt like an oven, despite the sinking of the sun many hours before.

  “Thank God for A/C,” Daren said. Everyone else grunted in agreement as we
all began to move more quickly to get to the coach.

  Stefan was standing at the door and, as we got close, he unlocked it and gingerly opened it for us so as not to disturb those inside. While it had only been a few days, I’d gotten used to the security detail, but Ven’s ‘diligence’ told me what I already knew—that we were currently in the calm before the storm.

  The guys grabbed their toothbrushes and gathered around the sink in the kitchenette as Sandy and I plunked ourselves in the booth, facing the front of the bus, across from Gary. He was sitting there with a strategically-folded New York Times (he loved crosswords) and a mug of strong, bitter-smelling coffee. He gave us a smile and a nod before he returned to his puzzle.

  Sandy scrolled through her phone as I tried to block out the sound of several guys brushing their teeth. I rehearsed my apology to Will in my head, getting more and more nervous as the time to deliver that apology drew nearer.

  “There it is,” Gary said to his puzzle as he filled in the final spaces before smiling up at me in satisfaction. He put his pen down, reached for his mug, and chugged the last of his coffee.

  “All right,” he said softly as he swept his eyes around the coach and nodded curtly. “Everyone’s accounted for; time to get to work.” He rose, folded his paper in half again, and tucked it under his arm as he began to softly hum On the Road Again and turned toward the front of the bus.

  Sandy and I stayed where we were, awaiting the daily ritual that came after the guys brushed their teeth.

  Not that the guys—who changed many times a day before and during concerts—cared if we saw them in their boxers (which we had, many times) but Sandy and I felt it was polite and slightly less awkward to give them the back aisle of the bus to themselves so they could get undressed without fear of us gawking at them. Because as uncomfortable and difficult as it was for us to undress in a bunk, for big guys, it was nearly impossible.

  When all the sounds behind us had reduced to muted shuffling and the odd grunt, Sandy and I exchanged nods. Then, without a word, we got up and dug around in our own respective bunks. Once we had our toothbrushes and other nighttime necessities—soap, moisturizer, et cetera, we reconvened back at the kitchen sink to get ready for bed.