“Yeah, if I wanted to leave, you’re totally the one I would come to,” I tell him. “All I would have to do is ask Daltrey what I should do post-Ransom. I’m sure he would have a million suggestions to get rid of me.”
“He’s been better.”
“He has. But I still think he wouldn’t be crying if I left.”
“Are you?” Lennon asks, voice quiet. “Are you going to leave?”
“Nah.” I push his knee roughly. “I have to keep an eye on your lame ass.”
Lennon nods in mock seriousness. “It’s true. I get into all kinds of trouble when I’m on my own. Lennon Trouble Ransome, that’s what they call me. Because I’m hard core.”
I snort. “Super hard core.”
“Who’s hard core?” Karen asks, appearing in the doorway to the lounge.
“Lennon. Obviously.”
She blinks. “Yeah. Totally obvious. I should have guessed.”
I push on Lennon’s knee again. “Get the hell out of here so I can talk to Karen.”
He sighs loudly, standing. “No need to thank me for the advice so sweetly, Levi.”
Once he’s gone, Karen joins me on the couch. “What advice? And what the hell was that about Len being hard core?”
“Definitely a joke. Len was giving me advice about our purpose plan—we need a snappier name than that, by the way.”
“You told Lennon?” She looks horrified that I would share our conversation.
“No, of course not. I just asked him what he would try if he didn’t know what he wanted out of life. He had some good ideas.” She still looks skeptical, so I take her hand. “I didn’t mention your name, Karen. I promise.”
She leans back into the cushions, looking mollified. “So what’d he suggest?”
“He said he would just try to open his mind and get new experiences. Like, go to museums and read books and try new restaurants. Talk to strangers. Try some hobbies. See what you like.”
“So…basically just hang out?”
I laugh. “We would do it more methodically than that. We could like, make lists. Or charts.”
For some reason I can’t fathom, she looks more than a little sad at that suggestion. “Okay. I don’t know if eating new food is really going to help me, but I’ll give it a try.”
“It’s about new experiences,” I tell her, knowing full well that I’m talking out of my ass but figuring it’s as good a place to start as any.
“And when are we going to try all these new experiences?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I murmur, concerned. “If only we were traveling around the country or something.”
Karen slaps my arm. “You’re a major smart ass, you know.”
“I do my best.”
She adjusts the pillows around her, getting more comfortable, and I can’t help but notice how her new position brings the neckline of her tank top down a few centimeters.
“Should we come up with a game plan?” I ask, my throat feeling that now familiar dryness. When she nods, I pull out my phone and open a browser tab. “So, we’re heading to Detroit tonight. There’s plenty of culture there for us to check out.”
“I like Motown,” she says hopefully.
“There’s a Motown museum,” I tell her, seeing it on my phone. “And an art museum. And something called the Henry Ford museum.” I peer at her over the phone. “Maybe you’ll find a passion for car engineering or something.”
Karen is looking skeptical. “Do you really think this will help?”
I shrug. “I honestly don’t know. But it’s worth a try. And besides, it sounds kind of fun, doesn’t it?”
“Well.” She crosses her arms over her chest, relaxing back into the cushions and lifting her feet up to rest on my knee. “I guess I could use a little more fun.”
***
We have an entire day off in Detroit. In fact, there are a lot more free days than I remember from the other two tours. Will, though still very much a dictator, seems to have eased up greatly when it comes to the guys’ schedule. The rest of the band is planning to go up to a kitschy Bavarian town that they apparently visited before, and Paige is pretty upset when Karen tells her we won’t be joining them.
“But I was looking forward to showing you,” she cries. “It’s one of my favorite things we did last time, and I was so sad that you missed it.”
“You’ll just have to let Cash, Sam, and Wyatt be the newbies in experiencing the wonders of the Bavarian tourist town,” Karen tells her. “Levi and I want to do our own thing.” She slips an arm around my waist and Paige’s face softens.
“Okay,” she sighs. “I guess I can understand that. But you’re still missing out.”
Once she turns away from us, Lennon leans in closer. “Is it rude to ask to join you? Since I’m betting you guys don’t actually want to spend romantic couple time alone together.”
“Shut up, Len,” Karen says cheerfully. “And of course you can join us.”
Our plan to get away from the rest of the band falls apart when Cash hears where we’re going. “A museum about Ford? That sounds way cooler than this Bulgarian thing Paige is dragging us to.”
“Bavarian,” Sam corrects him, but Cash waves his hands dismissively.
“Whatever. The point is, it sounds lame.” He turns to his girlfriend. “Come on. Wyatt is only here for a week. Don’t you think he would rather spend the day looking at sweet cars instead of hanging out in some Bosnian tourist town?”
“Bavarian.” Lennon snaps, exasperated.
“Let’s ask him,” Cash says, ignoring his younger brother. “He can decide.”
Sam shoots Karen a questioning glance, obviously worried that she doesn’t want them tagging along.
Of course Wyatt agrees with Cash immediately—I have a feeling the kid would do whatever Cash suggested. He seems to hero worship the guy, which is more than a little trippy for me to witness.
When Paige finds out half of her group has defected, she tries to keep up a positive spin. “I guess it’s just the four of us,” she says. Daltrey looks panicked at the idea and Paige sighs. “Or we could just all go to the stupid car place.”
“I guess that didn’t turn out quite how we expected,” I mutter to Karen as we make our way out to the cars. Paige explains to Frank and Benny the change of plans, and everyone except Karen and me files into the black van.
“I actually arranged for a rental,” I tell Benny. “So we’ll drive ourselves. We’ll just follow you.”
“Screw that,” Lennon says, climbing out of the van quicker than he climbed on. “I’m going with you guys.”
Frank and Benny clearly don’t like the idea of one of their precious musicians driving separately, but Lennon is surprisingly fast when trying to get away from his brothers. He’s in the back of the compact car, seatbelt buckled, before they can raise too much objection.
We follow the van out to the freeway. I haven’t had reason to drive much in the last few years, between living on the mountain and touring with the band. It feels good to hit the open road, music playing.
“So what’s the plan?” Lennon asks once we pull onto the freeway. “Tell me you guys aren’t planning on sticking with the group all day.”
“We’re doing this Henry Ford museum thing,” I tell him. “Which I’m assuming has something to do with cars. At least I hope so, for Cash’s sake. And then, we were going to get lunch in Dearborn, which has a ton of Middle Eastern restaurants. After that, we might hit the DIA downtown.”
“Sweet.” He sounds genuinely happy with my choices, which makes me wonder if they might be a bit on the nerdy side for Karen. Not that Lennon is boring. He’s just a little…tame.
“So,” Karen says, turning in her seat so she can see both of us. “Is anyone else weirded out by this whole Cash as a father-figure thing?”
I slap my hands on the steering wheel. “I know! Creepy, right?”
“That kid is clearly crazy about him,” she continues. “And he seems to handle it li
ke, really well. Which yes, is totally creepy.”
“A responsible Cash Ransome,” I mutter. “What is the world coming to?”
“I’ve seen him with Wyatt dozens of times,” Lennon agrees. “Still seems crazy to me.”
“He hasn’t been drinking after the shows since Wyatt got here,” I say, shaking my head.
“Yesterday, he told me off for cursing,” Karen says. “He thought Wyatt might hear me from the other side of the bus.”
“Cash without cursing,” I mutter. “Definitely not natural.”
“He is super happy, though,” Lennon points out. “I guess that’s the important thing.”
Karen and I look at each other. “Still creepy,” we say in unison.
The Henry Ford museum is not quite what I expected. While there are plenty of cars on display, there are also tons of artifacts and exhibits on American history. We take pictures of each other in front of the Wienermobile and in the conductor position of a mammoth steam engine. We visit the Rosa Parks bus and the Lincoln assassination chair before Cash starts to get bored.
“Can we go look at the cars some more?” he asks hopefully.
“Yeah, can we?” Wyatt asks, looking up at Cash with an expression that can only be described as worshipful.
“This history stuff is boring, isn’t it, buddy?” he asks, ruffling the kid’s hair.
“Yeah!”
“Thank you, Cash,” Sam mutters. “I’m thrilled you’re making my kid think a school subject is boring.”
Cash looks mildly chastised, but he slips an arm around Sam’s waist. “Well, there’s plenty of history in the car section…”
“I’m tired of cars,” Paige whines.
“We could go outside,” Lennon suggests. “There’s a whole old-timey village out there. That might be fun.”
“Why,” Daltrey asks, shooting Paige a glance, “do we always end up on these themed field trips? We’re probably the only rock band in the world that spends their off days at old-timey villages.” He shakes his head. “I thought the Bavarian town was bad enough.”
“Yeah,” Cash says, pushing Daltrey hard enough to make him stumble. “Because you’re such a big bad rock star, Dalt. If we weren’t here, what would you be doing today? Playing halo with your girlfriend?”
Since Daltrey looks like he’s about to shove Cash back, I step in between them.
“I think there’s a blacksmith out there,” I tell Daltrey. “That might be kind of cool.”
“Where’s your girlfriend, Levi?” Cash asks, looking around. “She sick of you already?”
“Nope,” Karen says, squeezing between us and forcing Cash over a few steps. She slides an arm around my waist, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “Not remotely possible.”
I squeeze her waist back, grateful, and try not to think about how good she feels under my hand. Instead, I lead her out of the museum into the bright sunshine.
Greenfield Village is spread out across ninety acres and consists of dozens of little period houses and shops. Out in the open like this, on such a nice day, we attract a lot of attention. It doesn’t help that the boys are flanked by security guards, or that Daltrey left his hat in the hotel. His trademark shock of blond hair is pretty conspicuous, and we end up with crowds of girls trying to get closer. Eventually, Benny has to call the museum management to get us some extra security, and they go ahead of us to shut down the various sites before we visit.
“This isn’t turning out at all how I planned,” I tell Karen. She still hasn’t released my waist, and I like the feeling of her pressed close to my side a lot more than I want to admit.
“Yeah. I was hoping we could escape the Ransom machine a little,” she says. “If, you know, I’m going to stretch my mind and all that bullshit Lennon told you.”
I laugh, but she has a point. The village is cool, but all we’re really seeing here is what it’s like to be out in public with a rock band. Not really what I had in mind.
“You know what,” I say, stopping in the path up to the blacksmith building. “We don’t need to stay with them. We’re not famous—what do we need security guards for?”
“I guess we don’t,” she says. “Do you think they’ll care if we ditch them?”
“Hey, we’re in a new relationship,” I remind her. “I think the boys would be disappointed in me if I didn’t try to sneak off for some alone time.”
“Good point,” she laughs. “So would Paige.”
I get Lennon’s attention and point at Karen and myself before gesturing away from the crowd. He nods—and watches my face for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with. Like he’s trying to figure out what I’m really up to.
I find I like Greenfield Village a lot better with just Karen. I tell her that part of this whole plan is to get her talking to people, learning about their experiences. “So you want me asking these dudes—who are wearing knickerbockers, by the way—what their experiences are?”
“Sure. Maybe you have a calling to dress up in reenactment clothes and work in an old-timey village. How will you know if you don’t try?”
Karen rolls her eyes.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that hard.”
“You’re asking me to talk to people,” she argues. “In my experience, people are pretty much the worst.”
“I mean, if you’re scared…”
She glares at me before flipping her hair over her shoulder and marching up to the man running the woodworking bench. “Hello,” she says brightly, flipping her hair again. I grin as the white-haired man swallows rapidly several times. “Hopefully, she doesn’t send him into cardiac arrest,” I mutter to myself before stepping up to the counter to join her.
“So I was just wondering how you got started with all of this,” she said gesturing around the bench.
“Oh, I’ve been doing woodworking since I was a boy,” the man tells her. “My father and my grandfather both did it.”
“And that led you into a career?”
The man chuckles. “Not really. I was an insurance adjuster before I retired. This stuff was just for fun. Once I retired, I took a part-time job here.”
“Look at this,” I tell her, pointing at a birdhouse. It has tiny little shutters and individually carved shingles. “Look at how intricate it is.”
“Took me three months,” the man says, chest puffing out proudly. “Always liked that piece.”
“Wow.” Karen fingers the shingles gently. “I don’t think I could ever be that patient.”
The man shows us a few more of his pieces before another group comes up behind us and we say our goodbyes.
“Well that was interesting.”
Karen gives me a disbelieving look. “Seriously?”
“Yeah! I mean, that guy clearly has a passion for what he was doing.”
“But you heard him, he worked as an insurance adjuster.” She shudders a little. “That’s the kind of career I’m trying to get away from.”
“Yeah, but he had this great hobby that he loved. Even if his job wasn’t that exciting, at least he had something making him happy. And now he gets to do it all day.”
We talk to a woman working in the schoolhouse, someone in the cowsheds, and a woman stirring the fire in one of the old houses. Every one of them is retired, working at the village as a part-time job. But every one of them seems to really enjoy it.
“I think I’ve had enough chatting with retirees for an afternoon,” Karen says as we walk out of the house. “My mind has been stretched enough in the direction of the past.”
“I’m with you. Wanna get some lunch?”
I send a quick text to Lennon that Karen and I are heading out before we go in search of the car. I had entered the address of a highly rated Middle Eastern restaurant in my phone the night before and I’m grateful—I’m starving.
The smell of roasting meats hits us before we even get out of the car. Karen closes her eyes and whimpers a little. “That smells incredible.”
The re
staurant is full and loud, but a friendly waitress seats us right away, handing us plastic menus and promising she’ll be back for our drink orders momentarily.
“Looks like pretty standard Middle Eastern fare,” I say, looking over the menu.
“I wouldn’t know,” Karen says. “I’ve never actually had Middle Eastern food.”
“Really? Why not?”
Karen smiles sheepishly. “Paige used to order it our freshman year in the dorms, and she always got this weird bean sprout thing that smelled horrible. She’s a vegetarian—well, most of the time. I’m more of a meat and potatoes kind of girl myself.”
“Well, you’re in luck. The Middle Eastern I like is all about the meat.”
We order shawarma and snack on the complimentary hummus and pita bread while we wait for our food to come out. “That was fun,” I tell her. “Don’t you think?”
She shrugs. “I guess so. I was a little bored.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I was too. I just didn’t want to be a downer about it.”
“It was definitely better once we went off on our own. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“So we didn’t have any major breakthroughs,” I tell her, ripping a pita in two. “Sorry.”
Karen points at me. “Not true. I learned that I have zero interest in woodworking, farming, or reenactment.”
I laugh. “Well we can cross those off our list of possibilities then.”
Karen chews on her pita for a moment, looking thoughtful. “You know, it was pretty interesting that they all did that stuff as kind of a hobby. Maybe that’s my problem. I don’t really have a hobby.”
“What do you do for fun?”
Karen shrugs. “Normal stuff, I guess. Watch TV. Hang with friends. Go to parties. Shop. Read magazines.” She looks almost despondent. “Not very exciting, huh?”
“If you’re having fun, who cares?”
“Well, it doesn’t really help me figure out what I want to do. I can’t exactly be a professional television watcher.”
“You could be a professional shopper, though. That’s a job.” I smirk. “Cash used to use one when they first got famous. So he would always look pretty when they got caught by the paparazzi.”
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