I froze, stopping almost mid-step on my way from the library to the dining room for dinner. “What?” I stepped over to the wall, out of the throng of girls heading the same way. “What do you mean, cancel?”
“Chris’s appendix burst, and he’s in emergency surgery.”
“What?” I asked, instantly concerned, not just for the fate of the band, but for the guy. Just because I didn’t want to date musicians didn’t mean I could care about them as humans. Plus, I’d actually liked Chris, maybe best of all the guys. “Is he going to be okay?”
“They think they got him in time, but he’s going to be out of the band, at least for the time being,” Dad said, his voice strained. “This is…” He sighed into the phone, not finishing his thought. Not that it was necessary. Of course, he cared about Chris, but having to cancel the tour or at least part of it was a distinct possibility. That was going to cost him and his partners a lot of money after they’d already invested a lot in getting to this point.
“Is there someone to fill in?” I asked. “At least for the gig here?”
“I tried to find someone. It’s too short notice.” He sighed, “They were really looking forward to it—they need the real-life practice.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but before I could think of it, Dad said, “You could fill in. You play, and you’re definitely good enough.”
I laughed at that but quickly realized by the silence at the end of the line that he wasn’t completely joking.
“Dad,” I said. “I’m really rusty, and there’s no way I could get up to speed in a couple of days. Not to mention that I’m not a boy. How would that work for the boy band formula?”
He sighed into the phone, and I could imagine him scrubbing his hand over his face, a thing he did when he was stressed. “You’re right. I…I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I guess the first thing I have to do is call your friend and let her know.”
I thought about Emmeline—Emmie—who was going to be so disappointed. In that moment, I actually did consider filling in because maybe fumbling through would be better than having no band. But no, I’d never be able to learn the songs well enough to fumble through in three days, even if I didn’t have school. Which I did.
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. I’ll let her know,” I said as I started walking again, this time toward the gym, remembering they were in there to meet with the custodian about the stage and all the electricity things they’d need.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re a good kid,” he said. “Tell her I’m really sorry and that I’m still looking. If I come up with someone, I’ll be in touch right away.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I ended the call and slipped the phone into my blazer pocket as I continued toward the gym. I wasn’t sure if Emmie was the type to freak out, but she seemed pretty high strung, and I was worried about a potential meltdown at my news. Still, had to be done.
Not wanting to put it off, I walked into the gym and right up to her, barely registering that Brooklyn was with her and some guy in a Westwood uniform was over near where the stage was to be set up. Emmie must have read the expression on my face because her own got pinched and she said, “I don’t want to hear this.”
No one likes delivering bad news, but at least she seemed already resigned to whatever it was. “I’m so sorry…”
“Tell me,” she said, her fingers pinching her nose as though fending off a pressure headache.
Brooklyn edged closer, and I gave her an apologetic look. “The band has to cancel,” I said. “I’m so sorry. The guitar player just got rushed into emergency surgery—his appendix burst.”
Emmie’s eyes went wide as her entire demeanor changed from one of disappointment and frustration to one of grave concern. “Oh my God! He’s going to be okay, I hope.”
I nodded. “I think so, but obviously they didn’t see it coming, and he’s not going to be okay to play in just a few days.
“Of course not,” Emmie said sympathetically. “It can’t be helped, I guess.” She turned toward Brooklyn. “Maybe one of the teachers will DJ.”
Brooklyn came closer and looked at me. “You couldn’t find someone to fill in?”
In three days? Of course, I’d asked my dad the same question. “Dad called a bunch of musicians, but no one was available. It’s too short notice.”
“That sucks,” Brooklyn said.
As she did, an idea came to me. “Unless…” As soon as the word was out of my mouth, I regretted it. There was no way it could work. Was there?
But Emmie had heard me. “Unless what?”
I looked at the girls, weighing the idea of making something up because what I was thinking was really stupid. Except I couldn’t come up with something less stupid while they were looking at me.
May as well spit it out. “Well, maybe this is crazy, and I don’t know if my dad would go for it, but…what about if we knew someone?”
Emmie seemed surprised. “Like who?”
“Like…Willmont Davidson from Westwood,” I said.
Emmie and Brooklyn looked at each other, and both said, “Dave?”
They seemed incredulous that I’d suggest him. “You saw him at the talent show, didn’t you? He’s really talented.”
Emmie turned to Brooklyn. “He performed after the thing with Chelly happened so we never got to see him, but of course, he’s good.”
Ah, yes. It made sense that they would have left after their friend had inadvertently flashed everyone.
Just then the guy who’d been by the back wall of the gym sauntered over, having obviously been eavesdropping and now decided to join in. “Davidson is top-notch. He’s in my music class. He’s always been good, but this year he seems to have really hit his stride. Plus, he can play just about anything after only hearing it once. He’s got an amazing ear.”
This didn’t surprise me. Also, my stupid idea didn’t seem quite so stupid anymore if that was true. My heart raced as I thought more about the possibility of it. I hoped he wouldn’t think it was insulting that we were even asking. Would he be into it? No way to know for sure, but his wasn’t the only agreement I needed.
I pulled out my phone and texted my dad. Remember that guy I told you about who wasn’t interested in auditioning? What if I could get him to fill in for Saturday?
He responded right away. In 3 days?
He’s a savant, I sent. And that good. Trust me.
Always. Go for it.
“My dad says it’s okay to ask him,” I told the girls, my heart pounding even harder now. Maybe this would work.
“Just like that?” Brooklyn asked. She didn’t know the backstory about how I’d approached Dave months ago. She also didn’t know we’d been talking since. Not that I was going to fill her in.
“He trusts me and better they get to practice with an unknown than not at all,” I said with a shrug. “He said the guys were looking forward to their first real gig, so…”
I was about to e-mail Dave to ask him, but Emmie beat me to it. “Okay,” she said as she started tapping at her screen. “Let’s hope he’s into it.”
She was smiling as she stared down at her phone. I wondered what had happened with their relationship and if they still talked a lot. Maybe Emmie did know I’d invited him to audition for the band. I also wondered if she knew about his grandfather. He’d asked me not to say anything because he didn’t want anyone to know. Did that include Emmie?
I barely had time to think much about it because he got back to her right away.
“He’s in,” Emmie said with a huge grin.
The Good News
I left the girls so I could go call my father and let him know the good news, but first I sent an e-mail to Dave, practically bursting with excitement.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: THANK YOU
Message: I’m so glad you’re on b
oard with the gig this weekend! My dad’s going to need to get in touch with you about details, so he needs a phone number. Can you send, please?
He responded right away with his number along with a request for me to call him first. Instead of heading to the dining room for dinner, I went up the stairs to my dorm room for privacy and quiet.
He answered on the second ring. “Vanessa?”
“Yeah,” I said, realizing he wouldn’t already have my number which would have come up as private.
“So…” he said, not sounding anywhere near as excited as I would have expected. In fact…
My heart plunged into my stomach. “Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind.”
“No,” he said immediately, sounding surprised that I’d even ask. “I’m into it. I’m just…this is a big deal, isn’t it? Your dad’s…”
“Tony Capri,” I said, because in any music circle, that was enough to get across just how much of a big deal it was. But this had the potential to be more than one gig at a private high school—albeit one dripping with high-dollar celebrity kids. I thought about Chris and how he was going to be out of commission for a while. They were probably going to need another guitarist to at least start the tour. If Dave could impress my dad… But it was too early to go there, so all I said was, “As for it being a big deal? It might be.”
He was silent for a long moment, maybe processing my words and what it could mean before saying, “It’s only three days away.” There was worry in his voice. He was clearly nervous he wasn’t going to measure up. There was a chance he wouldn’t—the guys had been amazing last time I’d heard them, and they’d had even more time to practice since. And who knew if Dave would mesh with the band? Still, I couldn’t help but think back to the talent show and how I’d known then from almost the first note that he was something special. He definitely had a chance. A good one.
“You’re good enough,” I said.
The second the words were out of my mouth I laughed because how hilarious was it that I was reassuring a musician.
“What’s so funny?” he asked in an almost hurt tone, obviously not a mind-reader.
“Not you,” I said quickly. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I…just that I’ve known a lot of musicians and they never need reassurance.”
“What does that mean?”
Really? That requires explanation? “Let’s just say their egos rarely need stroking.”
“Right, well, I’m not much of a musician,” he said, and I could almost hear the air quotes around the words. “More of an enthusiast. Maybe even a committed hobbyist, but I definitely wouldn’t call myself a musician.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to correct him or maybe tell him that could all change hinging on this performance, but I didn’t—he was already feeling enough pressure as it was. Plus, it wasn’t like I had the authority to promise anything.
“Anyway,” I said. “I’m happy you’ve been given this chance. Let me know what I can do, okay?” I don’t know what I might have been offering, but it had slipped out. Maybe because he seemed so unsure.
He chuckled. “You’ve done a lot already. I guess I should thank you for even thinking of me.”
I’d heard the false humility thing a million times, but right now, he seemed really sincere. Don’t believe it, my cynical, musician-hating side said. It’s all an act.
“You’re welcome,” I said, deciding to take his thanks at face value, but still keeping my guard up. “Now let me get your number to my dad; he’s probably chomping at the bit to talk to you.”
“Okay,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m really doing this, huh?”
“You’d better,” I said. “Because if you back out, I will hunt you down.”
“Fair enough,” he said, amusement in his voice.
I was about to end the call when he said my name.
“Yeah?”
“I owe you one.”
I snorted. If this went the way I was sort of hoping it would, he’d owe me more than one. All I said was, “Let’s get through this weekend and then we’ll see exactly what you owe me.”
After all, I knew more than anyone just how brutal the music industry could be and how it could ruin lives.
He proved again that he wasn’t a mind-reader when he said, in a cluelessly happy voice, “Deal.”
Dad FedExed Dave the sheet music and the just-finished album, telling him not to worry about the lyrics since Graeme would be lead on their set (something I wasn’t sure Andres would be happy about) and the other guys would take up the slack on backing vocals.
He was coming on Friday morning with the band so they could all rehearse together but had told Dave to get as much practice in as he could before then.
Which led to Dave calling me Thursday afternoon in a panic. I was in the library, pretending to study while all my thoughts were really on the band and if they were going to be able to pull this off. Maybe he could read my mind, even from one campus to another and my worry had made him call me.
“I can’t do this,” he said by way of greeting.
“Yes, you can,” I responded automatically. “You totally got this, just think of how great you were at the talent show and I bet you’ve been practicing like crazy.”
He chuckled a little. “You sound like Abe.”
“Huh?”
“My roommate keeps telling me the same thing. Speaking of, he’s coming over to visit Chelly. I…”
He seemed to stall out, the silence stretching between us and I thought maybe his phone had dropped the call. “You there? Dave?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” He paused and then blurted out, “Can I come over and play for you? Abe’s great and all, but I don’t think he has a good ear.”
“You’re assuming a lot if you think I do.”
He snorted. “You’re the one who heard me at the talent show and decided I should be in Tony Capri’s boy band. I can’t think that was completely based on my good looks.”
I was hugely thankful that he couldn’t see me blushing because while, no, it wasn’t all about his good looks, that was definitely part of it. Something I wouldn’t admit in a million years. Somehow I was able to keep relatively cool as I clucked my tongue and managed, “Uh, no.”
“So then obviously you have a good ear if you heard me and thought I was good.”
“Uh, full of yourself much?” fell out of my mouth.
He paused and then said, in a clipped voice. “Not really, just stating a fact.” I could hardly blame him for being irritated—why was I cutting him down? Rhetorical question, of course, because I knew the answer: I was treating him like a musician.
“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not a big fan of musicians.”
“I gathered from that other conversation,” he said wryly.
I had to stop and think what he was talking about, but just as I did, he reminded me anyway. “The one where you said—very clearly—that you don’t date musicians.”
“Right,” I said. “That one. Well, I…yeah, I don’t want to get into it, just trust me that I’ve been around a lot and have seen pretty much everything. I don’t need to go down that road again.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “But I haven’t asked you out, Vanessa. That’s not what this is about.”
I swallowed, trying to think of how to respond to that, but before I could come up with something, he moved on.
“And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Right. Can I listen to you play.”
“That’s the one.”
I owed it to my dad to help him. Plus, I was curious to hear him play. Those two facts alone, got me to say yes.
A half hour later, I went down the main stairs and met Dave and his roommate at the desk where they were signing in. Chelly was there, hanging off Abe already, but the way he was looking at her with adoration in his eyes told me he was more than okay with the way she was c
linging to him.
“Okay, so, meet you back here at eight?” Abe said to Dave as they finished signing in. He dropped his voice so Liz at the desk couldn’t hear (not that she appeared the least bit interested), “Chelly wants to show me something by the stables.”
I rolled my eyes. Everyone knew the back of the stables was a make-out spot. I was going to suggest they might even have to kick out another couple or work out a system of shifts, but I kept my mouth shut. I glanced at Dave and wondered why he was blushing about his friend going off to fool around. Whatever, it was cute. Though if he was that easily embarrassed, he was going to get a very rude awakening when it came time to perform in front of a throng of obsessed fans. Girl fans who were very often quite shameless in their attempts to get the attention of musicians.
Ah well, one thing at a time.
I glanced down at the guitar case in Dave’s hand. “Ready?” I asked. He nodded, so I started down the hall toward the back door of the main building.
“There should be a room open in the library,” I said.
“The Somerville Library?” he asked, his tone weird enough that I looked at him.
I clued in and wanted to smack myself for not thinking of it earlier. “Is that weird? I know you and Emmie used to go out. Do you want to go somewhere else?”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s just a building.”
I thought about how quickly she’d texted him to ask if he’d play with the band. “You’re still friends?”
He glanced over at me and shrugged again. “I guess. It’s complicated.”
I didn’t think it was that complicated: He obviously still had feelings for her, but she had a new boyfriend. I wondered if she knew Dave was still into her. Not that I imagined it mattered.
No point rubbing his nose in it, so I just nodded and left it, changing the subject. “So what do you think of the band’s music?” I asked as it occurred to me that he’d agreed to the gig without having heard even one of Wiretap’s songs.
He reached for the door, even though he was carrying his guitar, and held it open for me.
Along for the Ride Page 6