Chapter Ten
Daltrey
“Dude, you’re completely flat,” Reed says.
Cash promptly flips him off. “Whatever, punk. I’ve never been flat a day in my life.”
I join Reed in laughing over that one. “Sure, bro. That’s why it took us, what, twenty-five takes to get the backing vocal on the chorus of ‘Timeframe’?”
“Fuck off,” Cash says, pulling off his guitar and leaning it against his amp. “What does it take to get a fucking beer around here?”
“You could ask Levi to go get one for you,” Lennon suggests, “instead of bitching about it.”
“Let’s take a break,” Reed says, looking down at his watch. “I could use a beer myself.”
My three older brothers leave me in the hotel conference room where we’ve been practicing and head out in search of beer, and in Cash’s case, a pretty girl to serve it. I decline the invitation to join them. I got a text message during our rehearsal, and I’ve been dying to check my phone to see if it’s from Daisy. We have a very strict band rule about phones during rehearsals, one I generally support, considering Cash would be sexting all the time without it. But Daisy and I have been messaging each other quite a bit lately, and it’s a kind of torture to think I might have missed one of her messages. So as soon as they exit the room, I check my phone.
Remember that hotel in Youngstown?
I smile. We stayed in Youngstown for a night between shows on our first tour, and the hotel was so filthy we all elected to sleep in the van instead.
Of course, I write back. Don’t tell me you’ve found one to match it?
No, thank God. The place we’re in is clean. I was just thinking about that night.
I woke up in the middle of the night to find that Daisy had snuggled up against me in her sleep. I could still remember the way her soft body felt against mine, her shoulders moving gently as she breathed.
I’m quite happy to say that sleeping on the bus is a much different experience, I type. Where are you, anyhow?
Harrisburg. We should hit Boston after lunch if we get right up and go.
These past few weeks, I’ve been feeling some butterflies in my stomach just from talking to her, but her words turn them into something that feels more like writhing snakes. Daisy will be at the Boston show tomorrow.
She told me from the beginning that they’d be there—they had tickets and everything—but I somehow never really believed it until that moment. She’s really coming. She traveled hundreds of miles, and I’m going to see her tomorrow.
My heart pounding, I text back, trying to keep my tone casual. It should be a good show. Let me know when you get here.
I will. Have a good night.
Levi chooses that moment to join me in the conference room. “Rehearsal done?”
“They went to find beer,” I tell him.
“Ah, so the outlook for the rest of the evening is uncertain.”
I laugh. Once my brothers start drinking, God knows what could happen next.
“You’re in a good mood,” Levi says. “Was it going well?”
I shrug. “Cash is still flat on the refrain.”
He rolls his eyes. “Cash? He’s never been flat a day in his life.”
I snort. “Right.” A thought occurs to me. “Hey, do you have the schedule for the next few days?”
“Sure.” He pulls out his phone. “Why?”
“Daisy is going to be here tomorrow.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Daisy Harris?”
“Yeah. Crazy, huh? She emailed me a few weeks ago and told me she’s coming to some shows with her friends. A road trip or something.”
His expression is shrewd. “And how do you feel about that?”
I shrug. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, to be honest. I’m excited, you know. But I still feel a little…”
“Pissed?”
I shrug again. I don’t like the idea of being mad at Daisy, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.
“She ditched you for a year, man. It’s fine to be a little ticked off about that.”
“I know. But she said something on the phone. She said that I knew her better than anyone else, so I should know that if she did something like that, she must have had a damn good reason for it.” I frown, pulling my beanie off so I can fiddle with the edges. “That just keeps running over and over in my head. That she must have had a damn good reason.” I look up at Levi, who’s wearing a stricken expression. “Do you think something could have happened to her?”
He shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know.”
“I keep thinking if it was something bad, we would have heard about it, you know? But then again, how many people from back home do we talk to?”
“Not many.”
“That’s an understatement. I don’t think I’ve talked to anyone from home besides Daisy.”
Levi’s quiet for a moment. “She didn’t tell you what’s been going on?”
“She said she couldn’t, but that she wanted to someday.”
“Can you deal with that?”
I toss my beanie away, frustrated. “Guess I don’t have much choice, huh?”
“I guess not if you want to hang out with her.”
“Speaking of that, what’s the schedule like?”
He consults his phone. “Pretty busy man. Not many blocks of time.”
I sigh. “I had a feeling you’d say that. I’ll just have to hang out with her backstage and stuff.”
He shakes his head. “Daisy Harris is going to be around again. That’s crazy, man.”
“You’re telling me. I might need your help, too. You can keep her occupied if I get called away to do an interview or whatever stupid shit my dad comes up with.”
He has kind of a strange look on his face, but he nods. “No problem. Who knows? Maybe her friends will be hot.” He laughs, but it sounds forced.
I wonder if maybe he has some kind of issue with her that he’s never told me about. I push that thought away. He’s spent nearly as much time with her as I have, what with sitting in on rehearsals and being at all of our gigs. They’ve always been friends.
“I kind of can’t believe it,” I say. “After all this time, I’m actually going to see her. It’s nuts.”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Totally nuts.”
My brothers return in a cacophony of noise, as usual. Reed is yelling at Cash about something, and Lennon is laughing.
I roll my eyes. “The fine, upstanding Ransome boys are back to work like the professionals they are.”
“Shut it, little brother,” Cash says, handing me a cold beer. “Don’t think you’re too important for us not to beat the crap out of you.”
“Yeah, it’s been nearly a week since we put your hand in warm water while you were sleeping,” Lennon says.
I laugh. “Good point. You guys ready to get started?”
Lennon raises his eyebrows. “You’re in a pretty good mood. What’s that about? You’ve been hella whiny lately.”
“Yeah,” Cash adds. “A giant pussy. King pussy, even. We almost got you a crown.”
“I’m in a good mood because we’re almost done with this damn rehearsal,” I say. “And I’ll finally be able to get away from you assholes for a few minutes.”
“Good point,” Cash says. “I could use some alone time with that hottie from the bar myself.” He gets his guitar, and the others follow suit.
Levi is still looking at me strangely, probably wondering why I didn’t just tell them. My brothers love Daisy like a little sister. They’ll be nearly as excited as I am at the prospect of seeing her again.
It can wait till tomorrow. I’ll tell them when she texts to confirm they made it to Boston.
After all, it is still a little hard to believe she’s going to show up.
Chapter Eleven
Daisy
The closer we get to Boston, the more nervous I get. I have no idea how I’m going to get through the next few hours. I c
ould be seeing Daltrey tonight. I’ll definitely be seeing him on stage, but I could see him face to face. How can I deal with that? What will I say? I pull the sleeves of my hoodie down over my fingertips and stare out the window at the increasingly urban landscape.
“We’re getting close!” Paige squeals, tapping the steering wheel.
Karen adjusts the GPS. “This doesn’t even make any sense. It’s sending us around in a circle.”
“Stop being such a downer,” Paige says. “This is the day we see Daltrey Ransome for the first time. You will not ruin it.”
“Yeah, but you might if you miss this turn,” Karen says drily.
“Oops!” Paige pulls the wheel hard, cutting off about three cars behind us as she darts across two lanes to make her exit.
In the back seat, I try hard not to cover my eyes. Paige is not the world’s best driver. I wish either Karen or I had insisted on doing the city driving. But the girls have their driving turn-taking schedule and, as with their other schedules, they stick to it religiously.
When it becomes clear that we are hopelessly lost, Karen pulls out her phone and starts trying to direct with its map feature. Unfortunately, her directions are the complete opposite of the ones from Paige’s GPS, and Paige is having a hard time deciding which to follow. The result is that we almost get killed as she hovers indecisively between lanes and tries to take sharp turns at the last minute.
“You dummy,” Karen finally yells, grabbing the GPS from the dash. “You punched in directions to the venue instead of the hotel. No wonder this isn’t matching up with my phone.”
“Oh!” Paige slaps her forehead. “Whoops.”
“Whoops,” Karen says, shaking her head. “Good God.”
“Well, on the bright side, that looks like the venue down there.” Paige points ahead. “Wanna swing by and check it out before we get back on track?”
I squint out the windshield. A couple of blocks away is a brick building surrounded with people. The line stretches halfway down the next block. “It’s only three thirty,” I murmur, shocked. “What are they all doing here already?”
“General admission,” Paige says. “They want to make sure they’re up close and personal.”
“We’re going to be way in the back,” Karen moans. “We’ll hardly see them.”
“The venue isn’t very big,” Paige says. “We’ll be able to see. Besides, from here on out, we’ll be able to be one of the early ones.”
“Great. I can hardly wait to sit outside on the sidewalk all day.”
Karen has a point. As we pass the front of the line, I see fans—mostly girls—stretched out on blankets and sitting in camp chairs. They look as though they’ve been here for a long time already.
Karen turns off the GPS and insists Paige follow her phone’s directions to the hotel. We get there in less than ten minutes.
“We’d be in line already if you would have listened to me an hour ago,” Karen mutters as Paige parks.
Like the one we’d stayed in the night before, the hotel is nothing fancy, a little run down but clean. Paige booked us a room with two double beds and a roll-away cot.
“I’ll take the little bed tonight,” Paige offers, plopping her suitcase down on the thin mattress. “We should get ready and get over there.”
The girls start pulling out makeup bags and arguing over the shower schedule. Since I have no plans to change from my jeans and hoodie, I get out my phone to send a quick text to Daltrey.
We’re at the hotel. You should see the line outside the venue. Is it always like that?
He responds almost immediately. Duh. Haven’t you heard? I’m like, a huge star now.
My nervousness switches to excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. My mood has been doing this all week, flipping from scared to excited. It’s starting to feel like emotional whiplash.
My phone beeps again, and I look down. If your friends don’t mind, you guys could come backstage before the show. I’ll send Levi out to get you, so you don’t have to wait in line.
I look up at Karen and Paige, who are currently arguing over which shirts to wear. I grin. If your friends don’t mind. Yeah, right.
They’ll freak out, I text back. You just made me the most popular girl in the room.
LOL. I’m happy to help. See you around seven?
Great. Thanks, Daltrey.
No prob. Just look for Levi and text if you can’t find him. See you soon.
I slip my phone into my hoodie pocket. Paige and Karen have been so sweet about not mentioning meeting the band. I think they get how tenuous things were between Daltrey and me, and I’m sure they’re trying to make sure I don’t feel used. Knowing they aren’t just hanging out with me for my connection makes me happy, and sharing this news will be fun.
“Hey, guys,” I say casually. “Guess who I just talked to?”
They both look at me, their expressions blank.
“Who?” Paige asks,
“Oh, just Daltrey. He wanted to know if we’d like to meet the band before the show. I told him you guys probably weren’t interested.”
They both stare at me for a beat before all hell breaks loose.
“Oh. My. God!” Karen jumps up onto the bed. She holds her hands over her face as if she can’t bear to look at me. “Are you serious? Seriously? Oh, my God!”
Paige throws her arms around me. “You’re kidding, right? You didn’t actually tell him that? You didn’t, did you?”
I laugh, not even minding that she’s hugging me. “Of course not. He said to be there at seven.”
The screaming and laughter that follows is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. Karen and Paige jump around on the beds like maniacs.
Then, Paige grabs my hand and pulls me down on the bed with them, throwing an arm around me and squealing in my ear. “I’m so excited I think I peed a little!”
That sends us all into another giggling fit.
“Okay, okay, we need to calm down,” Karen says, sitting up and brushing back her hair. “This changes things. I thought we had plenty of time, but now…”
“True,” Paige says. “We have serious work to do.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, rolling over on my side to look at them.
“We have to get ready,” Paige says, as if it should be obvious.
“For what?”
They both stare at me.
“You’re joking, right?” Karen raises her eyebrows. “We have to get ready for the show. And if we’re actually meeting them”—she puts her hands up to her face and waves them around for a second—”our efforts need to be adjusted accordingly.”
“But… why?”
“Daisy, these are famous rock stars.” Paige’s tone is that of one explaining something very simple to someone very dim.
“Famous hot rock stars,” Karen adds.
Paige nods. “Yes, famous hot rock stars. We can’t go in there looking like we just got out of the car after a sixteen-hour drive.”
“But we did just get out of the car after a sixteen-hour drive.”
“Yes, but we don’t want them to see that,” Paige explains.
“We want to look hot for the hotties,” Karen says.
They walk over to their suitcases and begin throwing clothes all over the bed. After a moment, Paige glances over at me. “Well? Aren’t you going to pick out something to wear?”
I look down at my clothes: straight-legged jeans, black Chucks, and a black hoodie. “I’ll just wear this.”
Paige snorts, while Karen gapes at me and says, “No. No, you won’t.”
“Why? I’m comfortable in this,” I say.
“Daisy, sweetie, come on. You haven’t seen Daltrey in ages. Don’t you want to look nice?” Paige stops and blushes. “Not that you don’t look nice, of course. I would never say—”
“You look schlumpy,” Karen interrupts.
Paige punches her arm. “Karen!”
“What? She does.” Karen turns back to me.
“No offense. You just look like you’re going to class, not like you’re going out to a concert. Especially not like you’re going to a concert with backstage passes.”
“I always dress like this.” I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with both of them staring at me.
Paige holds up her hands. “If you want to wear jeans and a”—she gulps as if the next word is hard for her to get out—”a hoodie to a Ransom concert, that’s fine. If you’re really comfortable and don’t feel like dressing up at all, we’ll leave you alone. But if you change your mind, we’ll help you.”
Karen nods and looks sadly at my hoodie, which I have to admit is looking a little ragged. I listen while they discuss their choices. Karen is debating between a skirt and a dress, while Paige can’t make up her mind about leather pants versus hot pink jeans. I consider what Paige said. This is the first time I’ll be seeing the boys in months. I wonder if I’ll look different to them. I know I’ve lost some weight. For a while there, my hair was getting really lank and dull, but it seems to have improved a bit lately. As far as my clothes, back in high school I pretty much lived in jeans and T-shirts, not that different from what I have on now.
With their clothes chosen, the girls start to argue over accessories. I’ve never really been into the choosing of the every minute detail of an outfit. But watching Karen and Paige, I start to wonder if maybe it’s not a little bit fun. What would it hurt to get a little dressed up? I’m supposed to be trying new things.
As I climb off the bed to ask them for help, I try hard to believe my decision has nothing to do with not wanting to be the only not-cute one when Daltrey sees us.
***
Two hours later, Paige shoos me out of the bathroom to go get dressed. “The outfit I picked is on your bed. You’ll love it, I promise.”
I look at her uncertainly. I’m not a fan of the “Daisy can’t see what she’s wearing” plan.
She raises her eyebrows at me when I don’t go right away. “Have I given you reason to doubt me so far?”
She has a point. She and Karen have spent the better part of the last two hours helping me get ready. After my shower, they dried and straightened my normally spiral-curled hair. After it was straight and soft, Karen used the biggest curling iron I’ve ever seen to give me soft, gentle waves. The idea of straightening my hair just to curl it again seemed kind of strange to me, but I have to admit the end product is pretty great. She then did some complicated braid thing at the crown of my head so that my hair would be out of my face but still loose and long. I really like it; I might even ask her to teach me how to do it myself.
Ransom Page 8