Daisy and the Front Man (Entangled Crush) (Backstage Pass)

by Purdy, Rebekah L.

  Was this Trevin’s way of telling her it was over after what happened with her dad last night? But if so, why would he have called her right after the run-in with her dad? She hated this. She never should have put herself out there.

  Swallowing hard, she stopped at the front desk reception area. “Excuse me, I wondered if Trevin Jacobs left a message here for me?”

  The older lady glanced up. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Daisy Morris.”

  “Let me see.” She thumbed through some papers. “No, I’m sorry. No messages.”

  He’d stood her up.

  Her heart tumbled. Trevin wasn’t coming.

  He’d told her he’d be there, then never showed.

  Again.

  A few cameras flashed from the main entrance of the lobby. Paparazzi. She shrank back, wishing she could hide from them. This was just like homecoming. The way they all snapped pictures of her. Her face, devastated, all over the news. And here she was again.

  “Thanks,” she managed to mutter to the front desk lady. She was so stupid. How could she think he’d like her? People like him didn’t change. They didn’t date regular girls like her. Well, if he wanted to be like that, then she planned on following through with her plan to publicly humiliate him.

  Project Take Trevin Jacobs Down was back on.

  Let’s see how he liked it. Tomorrow’s interview with ET would definitely be memorable. She searched the area for one of the paparazzi guys she’d seen earlier. At last she found him sitting on a couch, his camera next to him. His badge had the ET logo on it. Just the one she was looking for.

  “Hey, I have some inside information about Trevin Jacobs. Meet me outside the main entrance tomorrow around breakfast time and I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Daisy said.

  “Wait, aren’t you his girlfriend?”

  “Yep.” For now, anyway. “He said we could give some exclusive information to one reporter tomorrow. So make sure you’re here.” If Daisy wasn’t about to have a breakdown, she’d have just rushed upstairs and gotten the flash drive with the video on it, right then. But she didn’t want him to see her cry.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, I promise. You’ll get a great story.” Daisy hurried back up to her air-conditioned room and tossed her purse on the floor. Then she ripped off her dress, wadded it up, and chucked it into the trash. She sank to the floor and drew her knees up to her chest. If Trevin wanted to play hardball, then fine, two could play that game. She rocked back and forth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she’d opened herself up to him. She’d finally caved and trusted him, and this was what she got.

  Daisy was done with guys. Forever. She didn’t need the pain or disappointment. True love was a crock of shit. It didn’t exist. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

  So then why did it hurt so badly?

  Daisy spent the rest of the night in her room. She’d hoped Trevin would still call or something. Prove to her she was making a huge mistake. But when nine o’clock rolled around, she knew she wouldn’t see him. She lay in bed watching the hours tick by. Her eyes burned from crying, the skin on her cheeks raw.

  Sometime later, her dad came in, but no Trevin. No call. No message delivered on his behalf. Not a word, which only cemented her decision in stone.

  Her first instinct about him had been right. He was a player. A liar. And about to become public enemy number one.

  When Daisy got up the next morning, her dad was reading a newspaper at the table.

  “Morning.” He glanced at her over the pages. “You ready to go down to breakfast?”

  “Morning. Actually, I was going to go up the street to the café. I wanted to grab a cappuccino.”

  He frowned. “Are you meeting with Trevin?”

  “Not this morning. I’ve got other plans.” She cringed as she heard the acid in her reply.

  His brow knit. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just need some caffeine.”

  “Maybe I should go with you,” he said.

  “It’s the café just up the street. I promise, I won’t be gone long. And I’ll have my cell with me.”

  “Daisy, it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t like the idea of you wandering around by yourself.”

  “I walk places by myself all the time back home.”

  “Fine, but I don’t want you gone too long,” he said. “And take this with you.” He stood, reached into his suitcase, and pulled out a key chain with a small can of pepper spray attached to it.

  She took it from him. “Er… Isn’t this kind of extreme?”

  “Nope. Either you take it with you or you don’t go.”

  She sighed. “Fine, give it to me.” She tucked it into her pocket then grabbed her purse, slid on her sandals, and headed out the door. She walked down the block, a warm breeze sneaking through the buildings and trees. Before going into the café, she decided to check out the record store next door to it. An older lady with hair the color of a dingy cotton ball smiled at her.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Hi.” Daisy waved. She took a deep breath and scoured the records. The stress melted away some. Here she felt at home and could pretend things were okay. She found several great albums—most of which were bands her grandpa had introduced her to. As if drawn to the rack, she made her way over to the “J” section. Her fingers glided through the stack of records. And there, at the bottom, was Jive Times Five’s last big album from 1960. On the cover was a picture of her grandpa, and Slim, and Foxy, Merle, and Lawrence. Of course they were much younger then.

  Her throat tightened, and she tried to swallow past the lump. She hugged the record to her chest and closed her eyes. God, she needed him so badly right now. But he wasn’t here. He’d promised to always be there for her. Yet sometimes, life had other ideas for people.

  And if her grandpa were here right now, would he like what she was doing? Maybe getting revenge wasn’t the best idea. Maybe she should give Trevin a chance to explain. Wasn’t that what her grandpa would tell her to do? To be the better person? To not jump to conclusions? God, why was the idea of handing the thumb drive over to the paparazzi making her sick to her stomach?

  Because you genuinely like him. Daisy opened her eyes and moved toward the cash register. On a whim, she decided to buy the record. She already owned a copy of it back home, but today she needed to feel closer to her grandpa. To remember his smile and his hugs and his kind eyes. She needed his strength, because hers was about spent. And after today, she might not be able to stand on her own.

  Daisy made her way to the front counter. “Oh, this is a good one,” the woman said. “One of my favorite bands when I was a girl.”

  “This was my grandpa’s band,” Daisy said. She pointed to his picture on the album jacket.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Now isn’t that something. To run into his granddaughter all the way down here in Nashville.”

  Daisy stuck around for a while and chatted, then finally decided to go get some caffeine. She took her purchase and headed into the coffee shop. The scent of coffee beans and chocolate permeated the air. She ordered a cup of vanilla cappuccino then sat at a table facing the TV. As she watched it, she almost spit out her drink when she saw a picture go across the screen of her and Trevin kissing outside the tour bus. She ducked her head and decided she better leave before someone recognized her.

  In the back of her mind, she wondered again if she should still go through with meeting the paparazzi. Did she really want to stoop to Trevin’s level? Damn. Her conscience sure was rearing its ugly head a lot lately.

  She should call Lena. She’d wanted to last night but didn’t have the energy to talk about what’d happened. And she wasn’t sure that she’d be up this early.

  When she got to the front entrance of the hotel, she saw Trevin standing with Ryder and Miles, a couple bodyguards not too far behind. She slid behin
d a row of bushes, heart hammering. More than anything, she wanted to punch him in the face. Across the way, she caught sight of the paparazzi guy, waiting for her. But she couldn’t exactly run out now.

  “So did you apologize to Daisy for last night?” Miles asked.

  “Not yet. I went to her room before coming down here, but Beau said she’d gone out. I really need to try and catch her before the interview later.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think there’s any way you’re going to win the bet now,” Ryder said. “Daisy’s not going to forgive you for standing her up. So I guess that means you didn’t get her to fall for you before the end of the summer, and you owe me the courtesy of no narking on me and Mia for the next month.”

  “You don’t know that she won’t forgive me,” Trevin said. “I have until the end of the summer, remember? But even so, I’m done with the bet.”

  “Hey, you boys need to head back inside. You have to get to hair and makeup before your interview,” LJ called from the doorway of the hotel.

  When they disappeared from sight, Daisy stepped away from her hiding spot. Sick to her stomach, she jerked her phone out of her pocket. A bet? This whole thing had been an act? Sure, he said he was done with the bet now, but the only reason he’d gone after her was because of it. None of this had been real. Hatred burned inside her. She’d been so stupid. It was one thing to think he’d just stood her up, but a whole other to find out that he’d never given a shit to begin with. But then again, why would someone like Trevin ever like someone like her? Her fingers trembled as she dialed Lena’s number.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Oh God, you were right about everything, Lena. Trevin’s an asshole,” Daisy sobbed.

  “Daisy? What’s going on? What happened?”

  She held tighter to her package from the music store, her legs wobbly beneath her. “Trevin stood me up last night. And this morning, I heard him, Ryder, and Miles talking. The only reason Trevin even liked me was because he had a bet going with Ryder.”

  “Oh, Daisy. I’m sorry. What a flipping asshat. I swear, that boy needs to be brought down.”

  “It was nothing but a show—God.” Daisy tried hard to stop crying, but the more she fought it, the worse it got. She hiccupped. “I-I still plan on bringing him to his knees. This whole thing was an act. The kissing, the video… Seconds to Juliet are nothing but a bunch of fake-ass wannabes, who use girls and toss them out.”

  From behind her she heard a loud gasp. Daisy stiffened then spun around to see the paparazzi guy. “Lena, I have to go for now. I’ll call you later.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be soon.” She hung up.

  “What do you mean they’re fake?” the paparazzi guy said.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Look, I don’t want to get into this now. Just take the thumb drive, okay?” She tugged it from her purse and handed it to him. She didn’t care about her own embarrassment any longer. She wanted the world to see what an asshole Trevin really was. How easy it was to stand up a girl and smash her dreams to pieces. Most of his fans probably didn’t even know or remember this happening. But now, it would be all over the national news.

  “What is this?”

  “Something you’ll want to make sure they get before the interview later.” Daisy hurried away, guilt already seeping in. But she knew she needed to let Trevin know she wasn’t a toy he could just pick up and play with when he wanted.

  Daisy would have to go along with the girlfriend thing until after the interview. She’d have to paste a smile on and pretend everything was okay. And when it was over, she’d walk away, knowing she’d had her revenge.

  Bye-bye Trevin. Hello, new and improved Daisy Morris.

  Chapter Twenty

  As Trevin climbed from the bus, he grabbed Daisy’s hand. Already people were hollering at the band members from the other side of the flimsy blockades that had been put up to keep the crowds from descending on them. He hadn’t had the chance to be alone with her yet to apologize. She never came down for breakfast, and both times he’d gone to her room she wasn’t there. And on the bus, the guys didn’t seem to get the hint that he needed some alone time with her. He hadn’t had enough time to tell her he was sorry, before Beau sat down across from them.

  “Trevin, who’s the girl with you? Are you finally dating again?” One of the paparazzi shoved his camera in Trevin’s and Daisy’s faces.

  “No comment,” he said.

  Beau shielded them as they pushed into the front entrance of the Renaissance Nashville Hotel. They’d be doing their live interview from there.

  Trevin glanced down at Daisy. “You doing okay?” She’d been really quiet today, even standoffish, which was likely his fault because of last night. “Look, about last night. I’m seriously sorry about everything. LJ flung the stupid fashion show on us. I tried coming by your room this morning to apologize—”

  “It’s fine.” She shrugged, then turned to stare at the crowd. “I just can’t believe how crazy everyone is right now,” she said over the screaming girls. “I don’t know how you get used to this.”

  “Don’t worry, once we’re done with the interview, we can hang out at the stadium in our makeshift dressing rooms,” he teased.

  “You mean the guys’ locker room? There are probably leftover jockstraps hanging in the lockers from football season last year.”

  He chuckled. At least she didn’t seem as mad as he thought she’d be. LJ must’ve gotten ahold of her to let her know why Trevin missed their date. More than anything he wanted to make it up to her. “But they’ve got showers. Or if you’d rather, we could hang out on the tour bus for a while before the show starts.”

  “Not alone, you’re not,” Beau said from beside him.

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be protecting me from mobs, not listening to my conversations,” Trevin said. He waved to the crowd, while Nathan stopped to sign a girl’s poster of him, and Ryder did his trademark thing and lifted his shirt to show off his abs.

  “Don’t push it, kid.” Beau narrowed his eyes.

  “So what do you say we give our fans another juicy interview?” Miles blew a quick kiss to a woman screaming his name.

  “Um, no. Not unless you plan on listening to LJ bitch for the next month on how we screwed up our image.” Trevin hoped they all behaved today. But you never could tell who might let what slip when asked certain questions. “Let me guess, your ‘Miles High’ fan club put you up to doing another ‘tell-all’ interview?”

  Miles winked. “No, mate—why do you always have to blame my ladies?”

  “Probably because they start online petitions for shit—like having you do one of your interviews without a shirt on—and the time they rallied to have a street named after you in Missouri.” He noticed the screens set up along the sidewalk for fans to watch their interview. A raffle had gone out that morning to allow some fans to come into the Grand Ballroom for the live show.

  “You’re just jealous because my fan club has a better name than yours—‘Trevin’s Heaven’…”

  “Heaven my ass.” Ryder snorted. “I think they got him confused with me.”

  “You wish, bro,” Trevin said.

  Beau led them into the ballroom, where chairs were already set up in rows. The floor reminded him of something he might see in a castle—the carpet fancier than they were used to. At the front of the room there was a stage with five chairs set up for the guys and a stool for the interviewer. Two big screens were hanging down and the camera crew already had their equipment up.

  “You’re here!” A lady with brown hair and a black dress came over to meet them. “I’m Bridgett Shalhoun. I’ll be hosting your segment today.”

  LJ stepped in. “Bridgett, good to see you again. I hope you got my message about the approved list of questions you sent over?”

  She gave him a big smile. “Yes, of course. Don’t worry, I won’t let happen here what happened in Orlando. I’ll ask them a few th
ings, then let the people in the audience ask a couple too.”

  LJ scowled. “Are you sure that’s a great idea?”

  “Of course—these kids want to know about the guys. Trust me, this will be perfect for everyone to see them interacting with their fans.”

  “If you guys want to mike up and get to your places onstage, we’ll start letting the fans in,” one of the producers said. “Bodyguards and friends, you can stand backstage or against the wall to the right.”

  Trevin let go of Daisy’s hand, and his eyes followed her as she stood along the wall with DeMarcus, one of their bodyguards. Beau climbed the stairs to the stage and slid in next to the curtain.

  Once all their mikes were on and tested, they took a seat at the table, center stage. Security guards began to let in the fans, who squealed and jumped up and down. The one thing Trevin loved about their fans was their excitement for everything the band did. How they took to social media to help spread the word about new songs, videos, and getting votes for the award shows. And although it sucked sometimes not to have downtime or peace and quiet, Trevin still loved the rush he got every time he took the stage or did an interview like this. Even if he looked forward to a vacation in December to see family and friends or to hang out more with Daisy.

  As soon as the thought came to mind, he smiled. He couldn’t believe he was planning for some sort of future with Daisy. But it felt right. She felt right. The best decision he’d made this summer was to go for her. He couldn’t wait until after the interview so he could spend time with her. He already had one of the crew working on setting up a secluded area in the hotel for him to bring Daisy on a “make-up” date. He’d even gone as far as hiring a string quartet.

  Bridgett ran through a couple of expectations with the crowd before they went live. Then she took a seat on the stool to the right of the guys. Trevin sat at the end of the table next to Miles. They each had a bottle of water in front of them, along with black Sharpies to sign photos after the show finished.