by B. B. Miller
“We’re trying to be civilized remember, genius?” Tucker taunts him.
Sean scowls, but turns back to Joyce and David quickly. “When’s the last time you two went away together? Had a meal outside of the hospital?” His voice lowers and he leans forward, obviously not wanting Parker to hear this particular conversation.
David glances down at his wife with a look of longing. “I can’t remember. Months . . . probably longer.”
“I can’t leave him there alone,” Joyce replies softly, her eyes glossing over.
“Ah, but there’s the beauty of it. He wouldn’t be alone. We’d be there, yeah?” Sean turns back to Matt and me.
“Absolutely.” It’s a firm confirmation from Matt.
Joyce looks between the three of us in disbelief. “Come on. It would be fun. Like a big old sleepover with Uncle Sean and his less awesome friends. What could possibly go wrong? Oh! I’ll get a tent and everything.” Sean rubs his hands together in excitement.
“I don’t know . . .” Joyce hedges, and I see David squeeze her hand.
“It’s right on the beach,” Sean encourages. “Quiet, secluded, all the rooms you could ever want to do whatever you want in.” Another stealthy punch from Tucker lands on Sean’s shoulder, and he brushes it off.
“Thank you, but—”
Joyce’s protest is silenced as David interrupts, “We’d love to.”
“Brilliant! Where do you think the best place is to buy a tent, then?” Sean reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket for his cell phone, quickly getting immersed in his latest mission.
“I mean, where’s the loyalty?” Matt mumbles after a few minutes of silence, glancing out the window.
“Are you still on about the lovely Tess, grasshopper?” Sean asks, clearly amused. “There’ll be thousands of people wearing different shirts. Why is hers all of a sudden so important to you?”
“It’s not; it’s just she should be wearing one of ours, you know?”
“Women rarely do what they should,” Sean comments, scrolling through his phone.
“Really? I’ve never found that to be case,” Matt fires back at him.
Sean snorts, glancing up from his phone. “Right, because most of them just fall all over you? Cater to your every whim?”
“Guys, not here,” Tucker warns.
“Mom!” Parker’s excited voice is heard above us, and Joyce looks up to the sunroof.
“You okay, honey?”
“Come here!” Joyce flashes me a look of concern as Cam moves down from the sunroof, sinking back into his seat.
“You’ll both probably want to see this,” Cameron suggests, offering her his hand as she stands to join her son for a view from the sunroof.
David turns to peer out the tinted window. “Holy shit,” he mumbles before joining Joyce and Parker at the sunroof.
Tucker smiles at me as the crowds that have lined the streets for hours in preparation of our arrival come into view. It’s a sight we’ve all gotten used to and take for granted. Seeing it from Parker’s perspective is beyond humbling. The cheers and screams rise in a crescendo as the motorcade approaches the stadium. The police sirens squeal a few times in succession as if the throng needed another indication that we’re making our way closer.
A sea of brightly colored signs that would typically feature Redfall’s name have Parker’s name and the Rock the Dream hashtag emblazoned on them instead. Sean hits me in the leg, pointing to a massive bright yellow homemade sign, held up high by six little kids, the words Fuck Cancer loud and proud in big black letters.
Sean lets out one of his trademark howls and hangs out the window. Tucker lets out a sigh, leaning across Nurse Claire’s lap to grab hold of his jacket. “Every damn time,” he mutters before raising his voice so Sean can hear, “Don’t make me buckle you in!”
Abigail
“I think someone’s smitten.”
I roll my eyes at Tess’s teasing observation as we make our way backstage before the beginning of the concert. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s merely being polite.”
“Right,” she says with a smirk. “Polite. All the ‘accidental’ arm brushes were him just being polite. He was practically jumping around you like an eager puppy!”
“Whatever.” I shake my head at her. Okay, so maybe Landon did seem a bit enthusiastic when we were going over the redone video for the finale, but it’s not like anything will come of it. “I’m not going to make a big deal of it. He’s doing us a huge favor by letting us mess with his video.”
“You may not want to make a big deal of it, but Kennedy may break a guitar over his head if he doesn’t tone it down.”
Rolling my eyes again, I hear April’s voice in my ear. “Can you please swing by the press room again? Rolling Stone finally deigned to grace us with its presence.”
I bite back a laugh. April has had a serious thing against Rolling Stone since they killed an article they were going to do for a dream we did last year due to some infighting between editors. She’ll never let them know that—she’s too much of a professional—but that doesn’t stop her sarcasm from showing with me.
“Sure. I’ll be there in ten,” I promise, talking into my new, high-tech headset. We’re all wired for this event. Normally, we’d have clunkier headsets, but after Kennedy complained at the “archaic pieces of shit” our tech guy was loading up at the office, some sleek, feather-light European earpieces magically appeared when we arrived tonight.
Some women get diamonds, some get enough AV gear to cause even the most fervent techno-nerd to dance with joy.
I take off toward the pressroom we have set up backstage, via the phone room. I spy my mother sitting close to Helena as they man a couple of phones taking donation calls. At the moment, though, they’re giggling wickedly until they see me across the room. They give me a couple of finger waves, their faces pictures of innocence. I return the wave, shaking my head in amusement as I continue to the pressroom. Considering my mother’s unpredictable filter, putting those two together may have been a colossal mistake.
“Do you think they’ve been drinking?” I mutter, and Tess laughs, glancing back at them over her shoulder.
“Of course not,” she says, nudging my shoulder. “I think it’s more likely that there’s more to Kennedy’s mom than meets the eye.”
I laugh. “True. He must have inherited his moves from somewhere.” I expect her to make some kind of smartass comment, but instead, she purses her lips in thought.
“There’s only one person’s moves I’m wondering about right now,” she mumbles, her cheeks pinking.
“Let me guess, a certain bassist with a tongue piercing?” I tease lightly, and her blush becomes deeper. I smile smugly, but let it go, not wanting to embarrass her further. Besides, I’ve got Rolling Stone to deal with now.
We approach the pressroom and find a dozen or so reporters milling about, typing furiously on laptops, or interviewing some of the celebrity presenters or performers. I know there are probably a dozen more sitting out in the press section in the crowd. April waves me over to where she stands with a tall, lithe man with grey eyes and dark hair drawn into a man bun.
April makes the introductions and the reporter flicks on his digital recorder.
“Thanks for sparing a few minutes. I know you’re busy tonight,” he begins politely. “April has already briefed me on the particulars for tonight, but I wanted to ask you a few specifics, if I could.” I nod and he continues. “Whose idea was it for the Jensen boy to join Redfall on stage tonight?”
“It was Kennedy’s suggestion, actually,” I answer with a smile. “The entire band was onboard with it, but Kennedy was the initiator. He’s been working with Parker for weeks on the song they’ll play.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “And what piece is that?”
“You’ll have to stick around to find out. It’s a surprise.” I grin at him, thinking of how excited Parker is about playing with Kennedy. “But it’s important to remember that it’s
all up to Parker. If he wants to play with Kennedy, he’ll have that opportunity.”
“Who wouldn’t want to play with Kennedy?” he asks, his voice disbelieving, and then he purses his lips. “Do you mean he may not have the energy for it? Everything that’s been happening today must be very taxing on such a sick kid.”
“Parker has had medical supervision the entire time, as well as the constant support of his parents,” I answer smoothly. “This has been a dream of his for years, and we’re more than happy to do anything we can to fulfill it. But it ultimately comes down to what he wants. If he feels uncomfortable with standing on stage in front of that crowd for an instant, we can make other arrangements for him. It’s all about him, and everyone involved understands that.”
“And all of this was his dream?” He gestures to the vast room around us. “This is quite a dream for one little boy.”
“Parker wanted to spend the day with Kennedy, and he has,” I explain calmly, knowing exactly what he’s suggesting. However, this isn’t my first rodeo. “Kennedy wanted to make it something that could help kids beyond Parker as well. His original idea was for a small concert, but once some of his friends in the business heard about it, it started growing like wildfire. They all understand what’s at stake for Parker and children with similar ailments, and were more than willing to give their time and talent.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that Redfall’s participation—beyond Kennedy, that is—might not actually happen. What with Cam’s sudden disappearance and all.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t hear a question there,” I reply mildly before April can interject. She glares at the reporter, but he simply smirks at me and clears his throat.
“Where’s he been?”
I smile benignly. “You’ll have to ask Nicole Hays; she handles Redfall’s information. However, I can tell you that every member of Redfall has been looking forward to tonight’s show. They’re very committed.”
“Would their commitment have anything to do with the fact you’re dating Kennedy Lane?”
My heart skips a beat as it always does when I think of Kennedy and me together, but I keep my cool. “My private life is just that—private. It has no bearing on today’s event, or Parker’s dream fulfillment. As to the commitment of the band, why wouldn’t they want to participate?” My smile becomes more confident as I point to the phone room next door. “It’s a tremendous cause. All these people, as well as the ones on stage and in the audience, and those calling and donating, understand what we’re trying to do here. The energy is incredible. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of trying to help these kids, vulnerable kids whose childhoods are being stolen.
“The money we’re raising tonight will go toward fulfilling a hundred other children’s dreams, but also to several associations that are working to find cures. April has a full list of the recipients. With this single benefit concert, hundreds of children will find relief from their illnesses, even if only for one day. We are incredibly grateful for everyone who has had a hand in making tonight possible. It’s turned out to be the biggest dream fulfillment we’ve ever been a part of, both in terms of scale and complexity of the event and the number of children it will help. If you’ve seen the smiles on the faces of the kids in the audience from Parker’s unit, you’ll know we’ve been successful. And as I asked earlier, who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?”
He scratches his cheek, his hard edges softening a bit. Then he gives me a knowing smile and tries one more time. “So, no confirmation of you and Kennedy?”
“My personal life isn’t news. But all of this is,” I repeat patiently with a sweeping gesture around the room.
He chuckles and gives me a more sincere smile. “Okay, I think that will do for now. Thanks for your time, Abigail.”
“You’re welcome.” I nod and leave him in April’s capable hands. It’s not until I’m around the corner and out of sight that I take a breath and let it out in a whoosh.
“Good job,” Tess says admiringly.
“Thanks. It’s getting harder to pass on the Kennedy questions, though,” I admit. “Sometimes it’s difficult to keep myself from just blurting it out.”
“I can imagine. If it’s any consolation, I think it’s just as hard for him. He was watching you from the green room when you were talking to that guy from Vibe earlier.” She laughs. “I think he was about to gnaw his knuckles off.”
I can’t help my smile; it’s nice to know that he’s as affected by me as I am by him. There have been times today when I’ve barely been able to restrain myself from dragging him off to a secluded room so I can have my way with him. He’s just so . . . commanding when he’s doing an interview or is on stage, striding around like he owns the place. He oozes confidence, authority, and so much friggin’ sexual energy that I can barely stand it.
And he wants me to move in with him! I was afraid to believe he was serious when he first asked me; it would be a dream come true to wake up every morning to the glorious sights of Kennedy and the Pacific Ocean. But, I love my job. It’s my calling, just as making music is Kennedy’s.
“Beautiful Abigail!” Sean greets me from where he’s stretched out on one of the sofas that are scattered around their green room. He has a pair of drumsticks in his hands and is beating out some incredibly complicated rhythm on his knee. Cam is draped across a recliner not far away and he gives me a little salute, while Matt is too busy glaring at my companion to notice me. Tess pretends to ignore him, but I hear her breath catch when she sees him. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for these two.
“Hi, guys. Where’s Kennedy?” I ask, looking around. Cameron points at the ceiling, where the stage looms over our heads. “He’s going over some things with Nicole for the finale,” he drawls and returns to scribbling in something, a journal perhaps?
“Oh, good. The video is ready—your parents really came through for us.”
Sean sits bolt upright as if he touched a live current. “Our parents?”
“Yes. Didn’t Kennedy explain what we were doing?” At their blank looks, I smirk at them. “We interspersed photos of Parker, Kennedy, and all of you as you were growing up. It was quite enlightening.”
“You’ve talked to my mum?” Sean whispers, his face panicked. I nod, a grin spreading across my face.
“And she was most accommodating.” I love the photo she sent of little Sean sitting on the kitchen floor and banging on the pots arranged like a drum kit around him. “You were obviously destined for this life. I was surprised about the red hair, though. Your parents let you dye it that young?” His mouth drops open in horror, and I congratulate myself for catching him speechless for the first time. Cam snickers at his expression, so I turn toward him.
“I also love the photo of you, Cam, with the long bleached-blond bangs in your prep school uniform,” I inform him, which cuts him off cold. “You were the epitome of middle-school cool.”
Sean barks out a laugh, but Cam merely flips him off. “What about Matt and Kennedy?” he demands. “You wouldn’t have let them off the hook.”
“They are both amply represented, we promise. It was actually Kennedy’s mom’s idea to use your photos as well as Kennedy’s,” Tess pipes up with a mischievous grin.
“What did Tom send?” Matt’s worried grumble reaches us, but only I turn toward him, since Tess is studiously tapping at her tablet.
“A sweet picture of you hugging a giant white Newfoundland, for one.” His eyes widen, and I hold my hands up defensively. “Guys, trust me. I’d never do anything to embarrass you. Well, maybe Sean, but not the rest of you.”
Sean seems to have recovered from his shock enough to grin slyly at me, rubbing his hands together. “What about HRH’s photos? Oh, please tell me you have something especially precious of him.”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” I glance at my watch, as Sean throws his head back.
“Aw, come on, MP. You’re no fun at all—”
“Okay, o
ut with it,” I suddenly demand, my hands on my hips. “What the hell does MP stand for? Come on—dazzle me with your brilliance.”
Matt chuckles softly behind me as Sean stares with a mixture of adolescent delight and shock. He opens his mouth, but is cut off when Cam barks out a laugh. “Kennedy’s been so whipped since he met you, we figured you must have a Magical Pussy to keep him in line,” he drawls, slouching back in his seat and propping an ankle on the opposite knee.
All eyes are on me, and I’m proud that—for once in my life—my blush isn’t giving me away. Instead, I nod thoughtfully. “Well, if the shoe fits,” I murmur, giving a knowing shrug.
Sean hoots with laughter and points at me. “Okay, you can stay. I approve.”
“Like you have any say in the matter, you idiot,” Matt scoffs, just as one of the assistants sticks his head in the door.
“Redfall!” he barks. “You’re on in ten.”
A couple hours later, I’m almost dead on my feet. My face feels permanently stretched by the smile I’ve worn all evening.
“Abby! It’s time.” April beckons me, and I hurry to join her as we trot up the stairs. She pushes open a door and we emerge on the stadium floor to the left of the stage. “Are you sure you want to watch from out here? We can watch from the wings with Parker’s parents.”
“I know, but I want to see this from the audience. This is what it’s all about.” I’ve been looking forward to this moment all night. It wouldn’t be the same without the energy of the crowd surrounding me.
Waving to a few staffers as we walk, I find myself pulled into a quick hug by Ralph when we reach one of the VIP sections. “Abigail, you’ve outdone yourself,” he gushes. His Rock the Dream shirt is wildly out of character for him, but I love his dedication. “Everything has gone like clockwork.”
I laugh. “I’m glad it looks like it from this side. It’s not just me, though; the whole team has really gone above and beyond. They’re the ones who deserve your praise, along with Kennedy’s assistant, Nicole.” There are always a few glitches at an event like this, especially with all the personalities involved, but we’ve worked them out. We’ll go over them during the event post-mortem.