“Fair enough,” I said as I balanced my plate on my thigh and peeled the paper off the cupcake. “Makes sense.”
“Hey,” Max said, bringing our attention to the doorway. He was in his stage outfit, his hair done, looking way hotter than any fridge should.
Sandy let out a little whistle of appreciation, though thankfully it was low enough that he would need bionic hearing to have heard it.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“We’re all dressed now, so if you want to come and get some pictures of us before the thing...”
It took me a second to realize that he was talking to Sandy, even though he was looking at me. It seemed to take her a second, too, and then she said, “Oh,” and turned to me. “You coming?”
I nodded, shoving the last bite of cupcake in my mouth before getting up off the couch. I dropped the plate into the garbage at the end of the food table and took a glance around the room, making sure it looked good for when the guests would arrive.
Food: check.
Box of posters and CDs: check.
Hot band members: in progress.
I turned back to the door, but Max was gone. I looked over at Sandy and gave her an eye-roll.
“I know,” she said with a laugh, nodding toward the door. “He’s still so...Max, right? But I have to admit he’s growing on me a little. Maybe that broody thing is up my alley after all.”
“Sandy...”
She looped her arm through mine and leaned into me as we made our way to the doorway. “I know, I know. He’s a freezer and I’m chilling, I get it. I’m just teasing, Nessa.”
Thank God, I thought.
“But he cleans up nice. You can’t tell me he didn’t look smokin’ hot just now.”
I didn’t answer. But only because I didn’t want to have to lie to my best friend.
Bromance Rekindled
I was standing against the wall in the meet and greet, keeping an eye on the boys and the guests just to make sure all was going well (it was) when someone from the security team came in and found Dad. For a few minutes, the two of them spoke low, their heads bent close together, out of earshot. I wondered what it was about, but didn’t have to wait long; it was only a few minutes later when the security guy left, that Dad came over to stand next to me.
“As I had hoped with this being the Hall of Fame, there’s more than just regular fans in attendance tonight.”
He smiled, but didn’t say anything else.
“Dad,” I said, hating that he loved the big dramatic pause so much. “Who did you invite?”
Of course he knew a ton of big name musicians, so it wasn’t surprising that he’d try to get some to come to the concert. Though it would have been nice for him to tell me—his tour manager—in advance. But maybe Linda would have known and he simply forgot to fill me in.
“Well I did invite a few...” He rattled off a few names of both musicians and other industry people. “But I didn’t invite Zen Garden. They showed up all on their own.”
I turned to look at him face on. “What?” Zen Garden was the current it band that had gone from unknowns to having something like five songs on the Billboard 100 in less than a year.
“They’re playing here tomorrow and just pulled in. When they heard the band was here, they wanted to meet the boys.”
I looked back to the door, waiting for the super-famous band to walk in.
“Not now,” Dad said, nodding his head toward where Andres and the others were working the room full of excited new fans. “They wanted to meet them informally and didn’t want to take away from this. We’ll bring them in after the winners are taken to their seats for the show.”
“The guys are going to be so excited,” I said.
“Yeah, they’re a good group and it’ll show the boys what they can be if they stay focused and we do everything right.”
I looked at my dad and saw a twinkle in his eye. I knew what that twinkle meant, too. I leaned toward him. “You think they can be bigger than Zen Garden, don’t you?”
He just winked at me. Which, of course, meant yes.
After the reception, the stellar show (seriously—these boys had somehow gotten better overnight), overseeing the teardown, and then making sure everything was put away and ready to roll out, I left my dad to do the final check with security and trudged to the bus.
As I climbed on board, I was unsurprised to see Sandy and the boys hanging out on the couches at the front of the coach. Sure, they were tired, but the show just made everyone amped up and no one expected them to hit the bunks right away. What I was surprised about was that the members of Zen Garden were among them.
“Hey, Nessa!” Darren said as I toed off my shoes, jumping up and putting an arm around my shoulders. I hadn’t had a chance to meet the four members of the other boy band, so I smiled and made nice while Darren introduced me around. I liked that he called me their tour manager and not just Tony’s daughter who was filling in. It was a little thing, but it made me feel legit. Respected.
While I wasn’t a huge fan of Zen Garden’s music—it was a little too bubble gum pop for my tastes—I definitely appreciated that they had a huge following and had done well for themselves in the year or so since they’d launched.
The Zen Garden guys—Mark, Ted, Eddie, and Pete—all got up to greet me and shake my hand. There was no denying that they fit the boy band mold, each having one of the archetype personalities covering the spectrum, from Mark, the clean cut mid-westerner, Eddie’s long-haired rocker, Ted’s rugged cowboy, to Pete’s tatted up urban vibe. Not to mention every one of them was just as amazing-looking in person as they were in the media—maybe even better because they didn’t look Photoshopped. They were real and they were stunning. Every single one of them.
“So you’re the one who keeps it all together,” Eddie, the lead singer, said as he finished shaking my hand and pointed at an empty space on the couch. I nodded at him and took the spot, glad to get off my feet.
“For now,” I said in answer to his question. “Until Linda, the real tour manager comes back.”
“She had an accident,” Sandy said giving me an apologetic look. “But she’s on the mend.”
“We were just telling your boys how tight tonight’s concert was,” Mark said.
Funny how he called them my boys, but I just nodded, not about to correct him.
“And,” Sandy said, “in case you haven’t looked at your phone, they even tweeted about it.”
My dad was going to love that. “That’s awesome!” I said, feeling lame, but I was seriously so tired.
Sandy picked up on my lack of excitement. “Nessa, Wiretap is trending!”
“Great,” I said, having trouble drumming up the right degree of enthusiasm.
Sandy frowned. “You seem underwhelmed, but I’m going to chalk that up to how long of a day you’ve had.”
“I’m not underwhelmed,” I said. “If anything, it’s the opposite. I’m very much overwhelmed.”
Andres was standing by the fridge and waved toward it, asking, “Want a Red Bull?”
I snorted. “You’re kidding, right? I want my bunk. Though I will take some water if you can pour me a glass, please.”
He nodded and grabbed the pitcher of water out of the fridge door.
“So maybe we can all jam together,” Eddie said, looking at me.
It took me a second to realize he was asking me as the band’s manager. I shook my head. “We’re pulling out for Chicago tonight.” I looked up at the clock on microwave. “In fact, soon.” On my way out of the Hall of Fame I’d seen Gary over by the crew bus chatting with the other drivers who were standing by.
“He doesn’t mean tomorrow,” Dave said. “Our tours intersect at that festival in Portland. Maybe we can find time to jam or even get on stage together.”
“That would be cool,” Mark said. “You guys have a good vibe. We could use a few grittier songs. Maybe we should get Tony to write us some.”
“Tony wou
ld love to write songs for you, but your manager and producer might not be very pleased with the idea,” said a voice I didn’t recognize. I turned my head and almost launched off the couch when I saw a stranger coming up the stairs.
I relaxed when I saw that the stranger was followed by my dad.
Everyone laughed, including me, because I quickly realized that the stranger was Zen Garden’s manager. While I didn’t know him personally, I did know that he and my dad went way back.
Bone tired as I was, I still stood up to greet him. “Great to meet you,” I said, sticking out my hand. “I’m—.”
“Vanessa Capri,” he said, taking my hand in his, giving me a firm shake. “Billy Hopkins. You wouldn’t remember me, but your...” His smile faltered before he went on, “...father and I go way back. We used to work together, actually.”
I didn’t know this and turned to look at my dad, but his expression was guarded. I got the feeling my mother factored into the relationship somewhere. Not touching that with a pole, I nodded and smiled at him, wondering what I should say next.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to come up with anything as he turned toward his band and spoke. “Right, boys, we should get out of their hair as they’re pulling out shortly. I’m glad you’re all getting along, though; I understand we’ll see each other in Portland.”
All the guys got up and the front of the bus became a sea of high-fives and bro hugs as the two bands made ready to part ways after what must have been some serious male bonding. Sandy came over beside me and watched with interest. “So much fine man-flesh on this bus,” she muttered. “I can barely stand it.”
“Shut up,” I murmured back, barely moving my lips, afraid of drawing attention. “Just appliances, remember?”
Once Billy and the Zen Garden guys were gone, the energy on the bus ramped up even more as the boys talked about the night they’d had. Not only had they met the guys from Zen Garden (a band who were paving the way for them, showing them what could be) but they had praised Wiretap publicly on social media, quickly making the band a trending topic.
It was a cool thing on its own, but more importantly, it was going to help with more ticket sales. Not that sales had been bad, especially for a new band, but it’s not like we could expect sell-out crowds out of the gate. This was only going to help.
In fact... I went to the back of the bus and opened up my dad’s laptop, pulling up the website stats. Whoa. I leaned over and hollered up the aisle. “Hey, Dad.”
Smiling, he came down toward the office. “What’s up?”
“So the website is getting a ton of hits.” I turned the laptop toward him.
He looked down at the screen, his smile turning into an outright grin. “Great. Tickets?”
“I’ll check.” I pulled the computer back toward me and logged into the ticketing portal, using Dad’s login. In just a few keystrokes, I could see there had been a big spike in sales for upcoming dates already. Already—not even overnight, but just hours after Zen Garden had mentioned the band.
“Gotta love the internet,” I said as I swiveled the laptop toward him again.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Dad said.
“You sure you didn’t have anything to do with them showing up?” I asked, looking at him sideways.
“I’m sure,” he said. “Very happy coincidence.”
“He knew Mom?” fell out of my mouth before I even realized.
His smile dissolved and I wished I could take the question back. “Never mind,” I said when the pause started to get really awkward.
“No, it’s okay. Yes, he knew your mother. He...” Dad sighed and I thought he was going to end it there, but instead, he continued. “We were friends, the three of us. Back in the day, I thought it was funny, the way she’d flirt with him, joke that if she wasn’t with me, she’d be with him. I thought she was just stroking his ego, being friendly.”
Oh Dad, I wanted to say. How could you not see it? But I kept my mouth shut and let him go on. “He came to me one day and said she’d approached him to...” He swallowed. “I guess to have an affair.”
“Dad,” I said, not wanting to hear the rest.
He shook his head. “You know the worst about her already. I don’t want to taint your memories of her any more than she did herself, but you should know the truth. She approached him but he turned her down. Said he’d never betray me like that. Then he came and told me.”
“That’s why you weren’t friends? Because Mom hit on him?”
“Not exactly,” he said, suddenly looking really tired. It must have hit him in that moment because he slid into the seat across from me. “We stopped being friends because I didn’t believe him that she’d approached him. I thought he was jealous and was trying to break us up. I thought he wanted her for himself and I freaked out. I’m not proud of how I handled it but let’s just say it’s a good thing I don’t have a strong right hook.”
I cringed. “Ugh, Dad.”
“I know,” he said, somehow finding it worthy of a laugh. “I honestly think I did way more damage to my hand than I did to his face. Anyway, it wasn’t until...what happened with her later that I realized he must have been telling the truth.”
“Had you seen him since? Before tonight, I mean?”
He traced his finger over the fake wood grain on the laminate table. “We saw each other at some business events. I was so ashamed and embarrassed at how badly I acted toward him. But tonight—I saw him and I swallowed my pride and apologized. It had been too long and I didn’t want us not to be friends anymore, especially when he’d only been trying to warn me about her. He knew if she was like that with him,” he shrugged, not bothering to finish his thought that had my mother—his wife—hitting on other men. “Anyway, the minute I saw him tonight, I realized just how much I’d missed him all these years.”
“Aw,” I said. “You missed your bromance.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re making fun of your old man.”
“I am totally making fun of my old man,” I said and then reached across the table for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “But I’m glad you made up with your bestie. Plus, look how well it turned out.” I pointed at the screen. “This is going to be huge for the band.”
He nodded. “It is. I’m grateful for that, too.”
“But more for your rekindled bromance,” I teased.
He slid out of the booth. “And with that, I’m going to grab a shower before the boys remember they need to line up to get a turn. Don’t forget, it’s another big day tomorrow.” Which was his nice but non-fatherly way of telling me to go to bed.
I nodded and turned back to the screen, about to shut it down, but refreshing the dashboard first. Amazingly, the sales of tickets had increased in just the time my dad and I had been talking. Knowing I could easily get caught up in watching all night, I forced myself to close the computer and secure it on the shelf before I left the office. I made my way past the bunks to the front of the bus where Sandy and the boys were still hanging out—talking about their night while they had some snacks. I hated to shut down the party after they’d worked so hard, but they weren’t the only ones who’d had a long day and the reality was that everyone needed to rest.
“Hey,” I said loudly to get their attention. It worked; all eyes turned to me. “Probably a good time to clean up and head to bed.”
“Party pooper,” Darren said with a big pout.
“That’s right. But we’re doing it all again tomorrow and you’re all going to crash if you don’t get enough rest. You know the drill. But if it makes you all feel better, ticket sales have already started spiking after Zen Garden’s mention—it’s all coming together.”
The boys whooped, their voices drowning out the sound of the front door opening.
“Aw guys,” Kiki said as she came up the stairs, kicking her sandals into the shoe box. “I love you, too, but you don’t have to actually cheer for me when I come on board.”
Gary came
up behind her and rolled his eyes as he waited for her to move out of the way. She dropped on the nearest sofa. “What’s going on really?”
“Our new best friends, Zen Garden, helped us go viral tonight,” Graeme said.
“I saw that,” Kiki said, tucking her bare feet under her before she ran a hand through her slightly limp spikes.
“It’s already turning into increased ticket sales,” I said.
Kiki nodded knowingly; this wasn’t her first rodeo.
“Anyway, I was just coming out to remind everyone that we have more long days ahead and it’s time to start winding down.”
The guys grumbled, but Kiki clapped her hands sharply. “You heard her. Start cleaning up your messes and get to bed like good little boys.” She looked at Sandy, giving her a smile. “And girls.”
Double-Edged
The first buzz of my phone on my mattress poked into my consciousness, but not enough that I thought to grab it. Then it buzzed again. And again. Then it started to buzz constantly and I woke up enough to think that it was getting ready to explode.
In the pitch dark of my bunk, I fumbled for it and held it up to swipe the screen, squinting at the sudden light in my eyes, wondering if it would actually give some sort of on-screen warning of its imminent self-destruction.
Then I woke up a little more and realized that was stupid. But something was definitely wrong.
In a way, my phone was exploding. Not physically, but with texts, tweets, e-mails, tags.
“Oh no,” I muttered as I realized what had happened.
It was out.
The poster had been shared and I had been identified. With Dave. As in, with Dave.
Oh God.
First things first: I put my phone on airplane mode to turn off the Wi-Fi and stop new notifications because those were just ratcheting up my anxiety, coming in even as I tried to catch up. Then, I scrolled back to the beginning of the notifications because I needed to know how it had come out. I knew it wouldn’t have been Sandy revealing my name on purpose, especially after I’d asked her not to, but a tiny part of my brain worried she’d done it inadvertently.
Going on Tour Page 6