She nodded and I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or relieved. Did she think I wasn’t hot enough? I wasn’t about to ask, but was obviously feeling a bit insecure.
“Anyway,” I said, wanting to move things along, “I hope you love the concert.”
“I know I will,” the girl said, excitement all over her face as she stepped aside, making room for the girl behind her to approach and receive her poster. “I’ve been listening to their music non-stop since I won the tickets. I’m the band’s number one fan!”
Of course you are, I thought as I glanced over to the kiss-attacker who was now standing beside Max, talking his ear off while he stood there, bracing for an attack. My father was staying close and was clearly on guard.
I turned back to the girl in front of me and smiled at her, relieved when the media escort came along and started herding her and all the other ‘number one’ fans out the door.
Sandy left with the fans and the band so she could get some video. My plan was to follow them out eventually, but I wanted to tidy up the room a little first and make sure we didn’t leave anything behind.
Andres had deliberately lingered.
My dad looked between us and was going to say something until I gave him a small shake of my head. When his eyes narrowed a little I gave him a pointed look and said, “We’ll be out in five.”
He gave me an equally pointed look as he mouthed, “Five minutes,” and left the room, leaving Andres and I alone.
“You okay?” he asked as I began to putter around, picking up cups and plates, even though there would be someone along to clean up. I recognized my restlessness as being more about nerves than the urge to tidy the room.
I stopped and looked up at him. “I’m thinking I should ask you that.”
His mouth twisted down into a frown as he sighed. “Usually I see that kind of thing coming, but this one...” he trailed off and shook his head.
“I know, one second she’s looking nervous enough to wet her pants and then the next she’s attached to your face.” I laughed, but without humor. Because there was nothing funny about it. Maybe an outsider would think it was amusing that a fan had basically assaulted him. If Wiretap was an all-girl band and a guy had attacked one of the members like that, no one would think it was funny. It was no more okay when the roles were reversed. That kind of thing was way over the line and something my father did his best to avoid.
“I want you to know I didn’t encourage that to happen.”
“I know that,” I said, dropping a plate into the garbage before I realized I should give him my full attention. I turned toward him and exhaled as I leaned back on the table.
He pushed his hand through his black hair and looked toward the door before returning his gaze to mine. “I promised you I wouldn’t...”
“I know,” I said again. “It’s fine. I know that had nothing to do with you; just a crazy fan with zero boundaries.”
He nodded, obviously relieved. “I just don’t want to give you any reason to doubt what I said back at the beach house. I meant every word.”
“You didn’t give me any reason to doubt.” At that moment, anyway. No, that wasn’t fair to even think. Since the second we’d decided to be together, he’d been adamant that he would prove that I could trust him. He was obviously really serious about us.
Just, as I stood there with him, after what Sandy and I had talked about and what had happened and how little it had bothered me...was I serious about us? Not that I had any intent to cheat on him, but...
“Hey, come here,” he said, maybe reading the conflict on my face. When I didn’t move, he stepped forward, holding his arms wide for me to step into him. Because I had no reason not to, I pushed away from the table and let him embrace me.
“This feels good,” he said into my hair, pulling me in tight.
I couldn’t argue, because it did feel good being pressed against him, cocooned in his arms. He always smelled so good and I pressed my face into his shoulder, inhaling the spicy mix of cologne and freshly showered guy that was just perfectly him.
He moved out of the hug and I looked up at him to give him a smile, but then his mouth was on mine. First it was just a gentle brush of lips, but then he came back again, the kiss heating as his palms moved up my neck to rest on my cheeks.
“We shouldn’t...” I said against his mouth, but that just spurred him on, his fingers twining in my hair as he deepened the kiss.
I got caught up in it for a minute because: kissing. But then I realized by allowing this to happen here and now, no, not just allowing it, but participating in it as I was, I was breaking a promise. An important one that had been made for a reason.
“No, stop,” I said, pulling back, holding him at arm’s length as he dipped his head down to kiss me again. “No, Andres, stop it. Seriously.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his eyes heavy-lidded, sleepy, dangerously bedroomy.
I turned to get away from them. “I promised my father we wouldn’t do this. I can’t and neither can you—this is your career.” It wasn’t a stretch to think my father would kick him off the tour if he thought for a second that Andres couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Especially if those hands were on his daughter. “You don’t want to jeopardize that, do you?”
He exhaled loudly and moved back, crossing his arms, maybe to keep them away from me. “No. you’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just...it’s so difficult. You’re everywhere I am and I want nothing more than to touch you.”
It was flattering, but: “You should want nothing more than your career right now.”
Leaning toward me, he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “You’re right. I should. But I’ve been a little distracted.” His eyes drifted down to my mouth again.
Not wanting to be the distraction from his career—in that moment or beyond, quite honestly—I moved away from him then, grabbing a couple of stray cups before tossing them in the garbage. I cleared my throat and said, “We need to get out there. I’m sure it’s been well over five minutes and if Tony has to come back here to collect us, he’s not going to be happy.”
“All right,” he said, thankfully sounding resigned. “Just give me this.” I turned toward him, expecting to fend off another kiss, but instead saw he had his phone out.
“Give you what?” I asked, looking at him sideways, wondering what he was up to.
“Please.” He gestured for me to come closer with a crooked finger. “Just come here.”
“And then we’re leaving,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall and becoming slightly alarmed when I realized what was supposed to only be five minutes had turned into more than ten. I’d been serious about my dad being pissed if he had to come find us. Not to mention that Andres had people waiting on him and a job to do. We both did.
“Yes, then we can go.”
I got close to him and let him turn me around with his big hands on my shoulders. Then he pulled me in to where he was pressed against my back, his left arm wrapped around my upper chest while his right one was extended with his phone, poised to take a selfie. “This will help get me through until we can be together.”
I watched in the phone as he tilted his head and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Perfect,” he said against my skin, distracting me as the fingers of his left hand crept into my armpit.
I laughed, apparently not as distracted as he would have hoped, but I was very sensitive to being tickled.
“No tickling!” I yelled, trying to wriggle out of his grasp as he found out just how sensitive and ticklish I was. “Gah! No! Andres, please! No tickling!”
Click.
“Hey! That’s not fair!” I said, whipping around toward him. I reached for the phone to delete the picture that I was sure would be awful.
“Sorry,” he said, holding his phone up high, way out of my reach. He looked up at it, angling it away from me. “Oh, that’s adorable. Definitely a keeper.”
I jumped up but he was too
fast, holding it up even higher. Then, like he was the one waiting on me, said, “Jeez, Vanessa, quit goofing around. Your dad is waiting.”
That earned him raised eyebrows and an impatient stomp of my foot. “Delete that picture first.”
“What’s that? Keep the picture?” he asked as he backed out of reach and slipped his phone in his pocket. “Done.”
“Andy...”
All innocence, with a polite smile and an open, friendly expression, he looked at me. “Yes, Nessa?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.”
I Now Understand What Dumpster Fire Means
It didn’t take long for us to see that Sandy’s idea to do the Zen Garden song was a great one. I had suspected it was, but the second Max and Dave strummed the last note and I scanned my eyes over the audience, seeing that every single face aimed at the stage was full of awe, it was like everything slid into place. Including my smile, because for the millionth time over this band, I was both super excited and so proud. In fact, sometimes it was so overwhelming, it was hard to contain.
There was a tiny moment’s pause after the final note faded away before the crowd went nuts. Most of them were already on their feet, it being a festival venue without much seating, but fists were pumped as the cheering and whistling became almost deafening, even where we stood backstage in the wings. I could only imagine what it was like for Sandy who was down among the audience, taping the show.
“That was...” Dad began, shaking his head as he searched for the right word.
I glanced at him, amused, because he was almost never speechless. That he was now spoke to how impressed he was with the boys—another rarity for someone who’d been so long in the business.
“Inspired?” I offered as I turned from him and watched the two boys stand up from their chairs and take a bow. As the crowd continued on, the guys handed off their acoustic guitars to the backline techs who’d hurried out on stage the second they’d stood.
Dad glanced at me and nodded. “Yes. That. Inspired.”
“Are you putting that song in the set permanently?” Andres said from beside me. His arms were crossed over his chest and all the humor from earlier when he’d tickled me and taken my picture was gone. In fact, he sounded a little bit whiny, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was jealous of the crowd going crazy over Max and Dave.
By Dad’s slightly narrowed eyes, I could tell he saw it, too, but didn’t address it directly. Instead he took Andres’s question at face value, saying, “Maybe. This audience is obviously familiar with the song, based on the cheering after Dave played the first few notes, so let’s see what the buzz is after the show and then we’ll decide.”
Andres mumbled something unintelligible which Dad did address.
“Andy, what’s good for the band is good for the whole band. Now, I believe you have two more songs to play,” he nodded toward the stage. Max and Dave grabbed their electric guitars from the stands at the back of the stage as Darren and Graeme made their way from the wings on the other side, smiling as they took their spots.
Without another word, Andres joined them, his face breaking into a smile as soon as he was clear of the curtain.
“At least he remembers stage presence,” Dad said sardonically.
“It’s just a little ego,” I said. “He’s used to being the main guy. You can’t be surprised that he’s a bit jealous of Dave and Max eclipsing him out there.”
“No,” Dad said as Darren counted them into the next song and they began to play. He had to lean closer so I could hear him over the music. “I’m not surprised. He did promise to check his ego before he signed up, but the fact is that both Dave and Max can play circles around him. While he promised he’d be fine being an equal with these new guys, I don’t think he expected any of them to actually be better musicians than him. He’s clearly insecure about it, so no, I’m not surprised.”
As I looked out at them on the stage, playing their hearts out, I felt bad for Andres’s sudden insecurity. Then I laughed because, I, of all people, should not feel badly for a super-successful musician who was being whiny about being lapped by a couple of his bandmates. It’s not like either Max or Dave would hold it over him; they were seriously the two humblest musicians I’d ever met, so if Andy’s ego was bruised, he needed to get over it.
Dad must have heard me laugh because he looked over. “I could use a joke.”
“Nothing,” I said. “I was realizing how ridiculous it is for me to feel sorry for him that the other guys are showing him up. He needs to put on his big boy pants.”
I thought he would have laughed at that, but my father didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he looked at me for a long moment until I was sure he was going to say something about me and Andres. Had he somehow seen us making out back in the classroom earlier? I didn’t think so, but fidgeted under his gaze. Thankfully, he thought better of whatever it was he was going to say and instead turned away from me to watch the band.
They only had a couple more songs to play, but a few minutes later, fatigue overcame me like a lead blanket, weighing me down until I felt like lying down on the floor right there. Also, my feet were killing me after spending almost the whole day on them.
What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath and full body massage. Neither was in my immediate future, but there was a way to get off my feet.
I put my hand on my father’s arm to get his attention. “I’m going to head back to the bus,” I said. “I want to go over tomorrow’s itinerary while I have some quiet and am not a complete zombie. I’ll be back for teardown.”
Dad nodded. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? You look tired.”
“Are you saying that as my father or my employer?” I asked, looking at him sideways.
“Does it matter?” He pulled me into a side-hug. “I’m both of those things.”
“Yes it does matter,” I said. “I don’t want special treatment.”
He kissed my forehead. “Too bad.”
I smiled, but still said, “Answer my question.”
He let out a long breath. “Fine. As your father.”
“Well, thank you for your concern, but I don’t want to leave my employer short-handed.”
I thought he was going to argue with me and a tiny part of me wanted him to because in the end he did have final say, but he gave me a squeeze and let me go.
“All right,” he said. And when I looked at him, I knew I’d said the right thing because while he’d given me an easy way out of hours of work, in not taking it, I’d earned a look of pride from him that was worth so much more than an evening off.
“Go do your paperwork,” he said. “I’ll send Sandy to come get you when it’s time to start teardown.”
I was done reviewing the itinerary and had moved on to watching my favorite cat video (the one with the cat in a shark suit riding a Roomba) when Sandy used her own catlike skills to sneak up on me. “We have a problem,” she announced.
I nearly jumped out of my skin but to my credit, somehow managed not to scream. “You just made me regret giving you your own key to the bus,” I said. “Did you have to sneak up on me?”
“I didn’t sneak up on you,” she said in a low voice as she slid into the booth across from me. “Kiki’s in her bunk, so I was just being quiet. Anyway, can you focus please? As I said, we have a problem.”
I was about to make a joke, but her face told me whatever this problem was, it wasn’t about something silly, like how hard it was for her to not kiss band members or how to think of them as appliances. “What’s wrong?”
She nodded toward my laptop. “Go on Twitter and do a hashtag search for Wiretap.”
My stomach rolled over because social media issues had the potential to blow up so quickly before we could rein them in. “The poster again?” I asked.
“Old news,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just do it and look for photos.”
“I’m starting to really hate social
media,” I said as I opened up a new tab and pulled up Twitter.
Sandy shrugged. “Without it, I wouldn’t be here and the band wouldn’t be selling out venues already.”
“I guess,” I said absently as I typed #wiretap into the Twitter search. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. I gasped and looked up at Sandy the second I saw it.
“That crazy girl,” she said, obviously not needing to verify that I’d found the right photo.
“I didn’t see anyone take the picture.” The one of the crazy fan kissing Andres back at the meet and greet from just a few hours ago. It was so perfectly timed that the shock of her attacking him hadn’t yet registered on Andres’s face. So perfectly timed that he looked like he was a willing participant in the kiss and not a victim. Ugh.
It wasn’t just hashtagged with #wiretap, either, but Andres’s name, #fangirl, #BestDayEver and #BoyBandKiss.
Sandy shrugged. “Well, someone took it. She must have been with a friend. Maybe they even planned it. I just hope this boybandkiss doesn’t become a thing.” She did air quotes around the phrase and then pulled the laptop around to look at the picture. When she did, she shook her head and let out a whispered curse.
I felt the same way.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Have you told my dad?
“No,” she said. “He sent me here to get you for teardown and I saw it for the first time on my way over just now. When I left, the guys were in the locker room showering up, so I have no idea who’s seen it.”
I closed the laptop and got up out of the booth. “I’d better go deal with this. You coming?”
She stayed where she was, reaching for her own laptop from the shelf, plugging her camera into the cord dangling out the side. “No. I think I need to get the video—or at least a part of it—cut and ready to post so we have something prepared to use for distraction.”
“Good call,” I said as I pulled out my phone and opened up the Twitter app, not wanting to have to take the laptop to show him. “Tony’s going to lose his mind.”
Going on Tour Page 10