Karen tosses the shirt to me, and I hand it to the girl, who grins as if I’ve just given her the best Christmas present ever.
“Thank you,” she squeals. “I tried to get this one at the show in St. Louis, and they were sold out.”
“We got a new shipment yesterday,” I tell her. “We can’t seem to keep that one in stock. You’re lucky to get your hands on one.”
She does a little happy dance and thrusts a twenty-dollar bill at me. “Thank you so much!”
I grin back. Her excitement is endearing, even with a line stretching out at least twenty people deep behind her. “You’re welcome.”
The next customer steps up. Karen, Paige, and I are starting to develop a good rhythm. When Levi first suggested we sell merchandise before concerts, I had my doubts. I saw the kind of lines the merchandise table generated. Though I’ve actually sold plenty of CDs and shirts at their old gigs back home, this is a whole different league. Plus, there was the not-so-minor issue of my difficulties with interacting with strangers. I wasn’t sure how I would do with that many people looking at me, talking to me, asking me questions. It didn’t seem like the best job for a girl with so many social-related freak-outs under her belt.
But I was determined that the girls and I earn our keep, and they agreed with me. After our retreat to the warmth of his dressing room at the Hampton Beach show, Daltrey convinced us that we should consider ourselves part of the backstage crew for the duration of the tour. He’d get us all passes, and we could hang out whenever and pretty much wherever we wanted. We’d also be able to continue on with the tour as it made its meandering way down and back up the east coast rather than leaving after the three weeks we’d budgeted for.
Karen and Paige freaked out, of course. They were basically being offered carte blanche to be with their favorite band. The setup irked me, though. Everyone else in the backstage crew was there because they were actually part of the crew. When Levi called to tell me that he’d made arrangements, at Daltrey’s request, for us to stay at the same hotels as the band, I knew we needed to do something in return. Karen’s suggestion that we turn into groupies was not what I had in mind.
“Call me a whore if you want,” she said, “but I have zero qualms about servicing any of those boys in any way they need. Even if they weren’t going to pay for our hotel rooms.”
Paige said, “Hush, Karen,” but there was something in her eyes that told me that if push came to shove, she would totally agree with Karen’s assessment.
“Daisy, you don’t have to do anything,” Daltrey told me when I brought it up. “You’re here as my guest, and that includes your friends. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not going to let you pay for our hotel room, Dalt. Not without us doing something useful.”
He grinned. “Why can’t you let me just flash my money around, huh? I haven’t been able to show off to anyone since I hit it big.”
I rolled my eyes. “You can buy me a really big cheeseburger for lunch tomorrow, okay?”
He laughingly agreed and instructed Levi to find work for us.
Levi immediately begged us to help sell merchandise. They’ve been slammed the entire tour with the demand for Ransom shirts, posters, and even playing cards far exceeding their expectations. He’d had to pull another roadie off the job to help, and the lines were still uncontrollable, to the point that they’d been getting some flak from fans online. Because he genuinely seemed relieved to have the help, I agreed, reservations about my anxiety be damned.
And to my surprise, I’m enjoying it. The lines are crazy, which keeps me way too busy to worry about my anxiety. Working with the girls is fun. They argue over everything, Karen insisting on setting up an organized system for dealing with customers and handling the merchandise—a system which invariably falls apart the minute Paige gets to talking with a fan and forgets that she’s supposed to be taking product out of specifically numbered boxes.
I also really like talking with the fans. In spite of our experiences with the crazies from the beach, I soon find that most of the Ransom fans are pretty cool. They all seem so happy to be here, so excited about the music and hanging out with their friends. I’ve chatted with quite a few, and it’s amazing the sheer size and scope of the fan base the band has built. The population of the fans skews slightly female, not surprisingly, but there are plenty of male fans as well. And they come from all over, some on road trips, some from the different venue areas.
It gives me a strange little rush of pride, interacting with the fans, knowing how devoted they are to the band. Even after a year away from my friends, there’s still a sense of ownership in my heart when it comes to their music. I was a part of this thing from the beginning, in my own small way. Seeing how far they’ve come is surreal.
The lobby is starting to empty, and I look down at my watch. “Ten minutes to the opener,” I tell the girls.
There are some downsides to our new job. The table is busiest right before and right after the show, meaning we no longer get to hang out in the dressing room with the guys at either of those points. Karen and Paige are pretty mollified, however, by the fact that we’re now traveling on the bus.
I might have argued with this set-up when it was first mentioned by Levi, but he was smart. He told me when the girls were present, knowing I’d be unable to put a wet blanket over their excitement. Actually, excitement is probably an understatement. They went nuts.
“We get to travel on the tour bus? Like, with the band?” Paige asked, her normally pale skin several shades whiter.
“Well, you might be on the crew bus. We’ll have to see which has more open bunks.” Levi paused. “Are you disappointed?”
Karen gaped at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Then there had been a lot of screaming and jumping and hugging. It hurt my ears, but Levi just laughed.
“Don’t you think about arguing with me,” he said, pointing at me. “This is procedure. If you’re working for us, you travel with us. Period.”
“Levi—”
“I mean it, Daisy. Every single person who works on this tour is in the bus. It’s part of your contract. We don’t pay great, but we do provide room and board.”
By that point, Karen was practically crying with excitement, shrieking that her life was turning into the movie Almost Famous. How could I argue with that? So Levi put Paige’s car into storage and moved our things onto the bus. At first, they talked about putting us onto the second bus, the one for the roadies, tour manager, and Mr. Ransome, but there weren’t enough bunks left for all three of us. We ended up sleeping about two feet away from one of the fastest rising rock bands in the country. And Levi, of course, but I don’t think he was the reason Paige and Karen could hardly sleep at night from excitement.
I think I may even be enjoying it more than they are, if that’s possible. Of course, my reasons are different. It doesn’t really matter to me that the guys are famous or that half the girls in America would be insanely jealous of us. That’s not what puts such a big smile on my face every morning when I wake up and remember where I am.
I feel like I’m home. I know that’s kind of cheesy, but my dad moved from the house I grew up in shortly after I entered Horizons. I can’t say I blame him. That house was full of nothing but terrible, heartbreaking memories. Without me there to finish my senior year, there wasn’t really much point in staying.
After I was released from Horizons, I went straight to the apartment off campus. I went to his place for two awkward days at Christmas, but sleeping on a futon in the guest room of his new downtown condo could hardly be counted on as being home.
Here with the Ransome boys, I feel like I’ve finally regained a little bit of the home that I left behind. I laugh with them, much more than I’ve laughed all year. I don’t eat alone anymore, either. Instead, my days are filled with listening to them practice, playing video games with whichever ones are free, joking and teasing and working. For the first time in ages, I hav
e a real life, not the cold shadow of one that I lived for so long.
“How’s it going?” Levi is squeezing his way around the small side table that we use to hold equipment and to keep people out of our space. “Good haul tonight?”
Paige leans against the wall. “Crazy. Bigger than last night.”
Levi rubs the back of his head. “I think word was getting out that our lines were too long. People didn’t want to wait so long. Now that it’s getting better, our profits will only grow.”
“So what you’re saying,” Karen says, “is that we’re incredibly valuable, and you can’t imagine how you lived without us for so long.”
He nods solemnly. “Oh, absolutely.”
I turn to deal with a last, straggling customer. Through the doors to the theater, I can hear the opener start and the crowd ramping up in response.
“Guess that’s our cue,” I say, depositing the customer’s twenty into the cash box. “Time to load up.”
“I don’t see why we have to load this all up just to unload it when the show’s over,” Karen mutters, bending to open a box.
“At least we don’t have to take it all back out to the bus to get locked up,” Levi says, helping us stack the T-shirts from the table display. “When we first started, Mr. Ransome was paranoid people were going to steal shit. It took him a while to realize we were at the point where we could afford security guards.”
I shiver a little, thinking of Frank and Benny, the two burly guys who ride on the other bus and shepherd the guys into every venue and appearance. I don’t like thinking about the purpose they serve.
Levi moves to stand next to me. He starts helping to refold the shirts that the fans have messed. I watch him out of the corner of my eye for a few seconds then laugh. “Levi, who taught you how to fold? You’re terrible at that.”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I guess that’s why my clothes are all wrinkled as soon as I pull them out of the drawer.”
“Move.” I bump him with my hip to take his place. “I’ll fold; you put in boxes.”
He glances over his shoulder. “Is Karen going to be mad at me if I mess up her system?”
“Yup. But do it anyway, more comic relief for me.”
He laughs, making me smile. Levi has always been quick to laugh, and I like the sound of it. Back home, he broke up tons of fights between the brothers with his easygoing nature.
“I missed you,” I say abruptly.
He stops folding. “Yeah?”
I blush, looking down at the shirt I’m holding. “Yeah. I mean, well, sorry I didn’t call. I’ve apologized to Daltrey about a hundred times, but I don’t think I ever told you. You’re my friend, too, Levi. I shouldn’t have just cut off communication like that.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Daisy, I don’t know how to say this.”
Something in his tone sends a cold shiver down my arms. I look up at him. His gaze is intense, the normal laugh lines around his eyes gone. “What?”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I think I know what happened.”
For the first time in weeks, I feel my mouth go dry, my heart rate increase, and the sweat pool forming at the base of my spine. “What?” I say again, a whisper this time because I’m about to start gasping for air.
“Hey.” His eyes widen. “It’s okay. Relax.”
I automatically fumble for my sleeves, forgetting for a moment that I’m wearing a T-shirt. I tug on my leather cuffs instead, trying to breathe deeply.
“Hey, come here.” He reaches for my arm, but I pull it away. I can’t let him touch me right now, not when the panic is bearing down on me.
He holds up his hands. “Okay. I won’t touch you. I just want you to come with me.”
I nod, turning away from the table.
“Can you guys finish up?” Levi calls over his shoulder.
I don’t hear if the girls respond, the whooshing ocean of sound in my ears blocking everything except for my heartbeat. I stumble toward the doors, and for one terrifying moment, I can’t figure out how to open them. I need to be outside, need the air.
Levi knows. And if he didn’t get it from Daltrey, from the careful version of events I shared with him, then it stands to reason that he heard it from someone else—someone who knows all of it.
Levi, still being careful not to touch me, pushes the door open, and I practically throw myself out into the dimming light of the early evening.
There are still fans in the area, the stragglers who don’t mind missing the opener, so I force myself to walk calmly around the building. Finally away from the fans, I collapse to the pavement, leaning against the brick wall. I bring my knees to my chest and shove my head between them, taking deep breaths. I sense Levi nearby, but he doesn’t touch or talk to me. After a few minutes, my breathing returns to normal, the rushing sound in my ears gone. Shakily, I raise my head. Levi is sitting a few feet away, watching me.
I give him a bitter smile. “Sorry you had to see that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“What… uh… what exactly is it that you think you know?”
He brushes his wavy hair behind his ears. “Look, I wasn’t prying okay? I just… I was worried. Daltrey was so upset and—” He cuts off at my grimace, scrunching his nose apologetically. “I was scared something might have happened to you, you know? I mean, the older guys were saying that they thought you probably started seeing someone and didn’t want to break Dalt’s heart—”
“Wait. What?”
He waves away my interruption. “I just didn’t think that was like you. I figured there had to be some good reason so I… I asked around.”
I close my eyes. That’s it, then. He does know.
“I called a few old friends. I don’t keep in touch with many people from your class, so I wasn’t sure if they would know anything—”
“Everyone knew,” I say, clenching my hands into fists, “the whole town.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t take too long to figure it out. And when I heard your dad sold the house and you weren’t in town anymore—”
My eyes snap open. “What did they say about that? Did they know where I went?”
His gaze immediately flicks to the cuffs that cover my wrists. “There were some guesses.”
Levi knows everything, knows about my suicide attempt, knows about the pictures. Oh, God. What if he saw them? Despite the court order, I know they’re still out there, somewhere. “Did you… did anyone send you the—”
“No,” he says firmly. “Of course not. And I never looked for them.”
I let out a relieved sigh, thanking God for small favors. Then I think of something else. “When was this?”
He looks away, not meeting my eyes. “In June.”
My mouth drops open. “You’ve known a whole year? And you never told Daltrey?”
He shakes his head. “I went back and forth every day for weeks. I knew he would want to know. But then I would think about the way you cut off all communication, how you even had your dad tell him you didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t my secret, and it obviously was a secret you weren’t comfortable talking about. So how could I tell it for you?”
My eyes watered. “That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.”
He shakes his head. “It didn’t feel sweet at the time. Mostly, I felt guilty that I knew what was up and Daltrey didn’t.”
“Still, I appreciate it.”
“But it doesn’t matter now, right? Didn’t you say that you told him?”
I hunch my shoulders. “I told him a little, that people started bullying me and I didn’t want to be at school anymore, that I was in therapy. I didn’t tell him about Justin or the pictures.” My gaze falls to my wrists. “Or the hospital.”
“So it was Justin, huh? That’s what I heard. Damn it! I want to beat the hell out of that kid.”
I can’t muster a laugh. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t even the
worst of it.” I think of Joanie and the things she put on my ConnectMe page. I can still picture the website she created. I close my eyes again.
“Are you okay now, Daisy? I mean about the, uh, hospital stuff?”
“Yeah, I mean, obviously, I’m still totally fucked up. You saw what happened in there.” I tilt my head toward the theater. “But I’m not… suicidal anymore.” I barely get the word out; it’s always been so hard for me to say.
“What was that, exactly?” He jerks his chin, indicating the theater.
“I have panic attacks. They started around the time the, uh, pictures got out.”
He grimaces. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it in there with people around. I’ve just been debating whether or not I should tell you that I know. If I had known it would trigger—”
“No, it’s fine, really. A lot of times I get them just because people are looking at me. You should have seen me trying to navigate college when I finally started. I was the freak girl who couldn’t talk to anyone. You didn’t do anything wrong by bringing it up.”
“You’re not a freak, Daisy. Don’t say that. Besides, you made friends with Karen and Paige, didn’t you?”
I laugh. “That was a total fluke. I’m sure when they met me they would have agreed with the freak part. But they were nice enough to keep trying.”
“Is that why you never called him? You thought he was too high profile?”
I shrug. “That’s part of the reason. Embarrassment was a big one, too. And not wanting him to feel like he had to come home. But the crowds were a big part of it, yeah.”
He gently places a hand on my knee. “For what it’s worth, Daisy, I think you’re doing great.”
“Thanks, Levi.”
“You ready to head back in there? Show’s about to start.” He stands up and holds out a hand.
I take it without hesitating and follow my old friend back into the building.
Chapter Seventeen
Daltrey
We play a kick-ass show in Raleigh. Maybe that sounds arrogant, but it’s true.
It’s one of those shows where my brothers and I just click. I never feel as close to them as I do when we’re playing well. We’re not an emotional, touchy-feely family. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve ever heard one of them mutter the words, “I love you,” to one of the others. We’re just not like that. Reed told me once that it was different before Mom left, but I have no memories of that time. I like to think that we express that stuff through our music, and the best performances are the ones where we’re subconsciously telling each other that we’re a unit, a team. Family.
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