Ransom

by Rachel Schurig

  Tonight was a show like that.

  In fact, there’s been a general uptick in my own performance over the last few weeks, and I’d be stupid to pretend that I don’t know the reason. I’ve just been better since Daisy came back into my life. I’m happier in general, and that makes me care more about my music. I feel an optimism that was missing for a while, a sense that things can be really good in my life. Band success or not.

  There’s also the simple fact that I always play better when she watches. Call it hubris or showing off, but it’s true. I want to impress her, want her to think that I’m as good as all the screaming girls in the crowd claim. I want to make her crazy, the way the other fans go crazy. And it’s been like that since long before we even had other fans.

  The mood is high in the dressing room. My brothers feel the difference, too. Amongst much high-fiving and Hell yeahs, my dad joins us.

  “Good show, boys,” he says, grinning. This is pretty high praise from him. “Real good show.”

  “Damn straight,” Levi says, flicking the cap of his beer off on the edge of the counter. “We were on fire.”

  Dad waits while we all congratulate each other a bit more, then he clears his throat. “I have some big news.”

  We quiet down immediately. Rarely does my dad refer to anything as “big.” He usually downplays everything, not wanting us to get complacent.

  “I took a call while you were on stage. It was from a producer at MTV.”

  I wonder, briefly, if our video is doing particularly well, before I remember that MTV doesn’t really play music videos anymore.

  “They want you to play at the Video Music Awards.”

  The room goes dead silent, as if we’re too afraid to even breathe. Reed is the first one to react; he bursts into laughter.

  “What?” Dad asks. “This is a pretty big deal, you know—”

  Reed holds up a hand. “Oh, I know. Believe me. That’s why I’m laughing. Because—the VMAs, guys. Us. On the VMAs.”

  Cash starts to laugh, too, and Lennon and I look at each other, bemused and smiling.

  “It’s just so… surreal,” Reed manages. “We’re a fucking garage band from Podunk, Ohio. Two years ago, we showed up at a gig only to find they’d closed the bar without telling us. And now”—he starts laughing again—”and now, we’re going to be on the motherfucking VMAs.”

  Lennon and I join in on the laughter. It is ridiculous, when I think about it that way, totally, mind-blowingly, can’t-wrap-my-mind-around-it ridiculous.

  Dad shakes his head, grinning. “It may seem surreal to you now, but I assure you I am in no way surprised.”

  We stop laughing, our eyes on our father.

  He looks around, making eye contact with each one of us. “You’ve made it, boys. Never let that go to your head. Never take it for granted. But it’s also okay to enjoy it. You’ve made it.”

  A lump comes to my throat, and I look down. Crying in front of my brothers would be a disaster. But from the corner of my eye, I see Reed and Cash approach Dad, and the three embrace. I look at Lennon. He rolls his eyes, but I know he feels the same way. A second later, he joins the group hug.

  “Get over here, little brother,” Cash calls, his voice muffled by someone’s arm but not so much that I can’t hear how gruff it is. I join them, hugging them all, soaking in the moment. It’s like my dad has given us permission to really think about how far we’ve come. And it’s a pretty long way.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Levi asks from the doorway, and we release each other. “That looks a little too cozy for my comfort.”

  “Shut up, dick,” Reed says. “We’re going to be on the VMAs. A little hugging is called for.”

  “Manly hugging,” Cash corrects.

  “Oh, it looked like very manly hugging,” Levi says seriously before breaking into a huge grin. “The VMAs? Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely,” Dad says. “I have a few calls to make. Have fun tonight, boys.”

  “Hey, Dad,” Reed says. “Thank you. Seriously. For everything.”

  We all nod. Dad waves a hand at us and leaves.

  “So we need to party tonight,” Cash says. “All of us. We haven’t been to a club in forever.”

  “You think Daisy and the girls will want to go?” Lennon asks me.

  “I’m sure of it. Hang on a second, guys,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

  I jog out into the hallway just in time to see my dad turning the corner ahead. “Dad! Hang on!”

  His head sticks out from around the corner. “Daltrey?”

  I jog over to him. “Can I talk to you?”

  He looks down at his watch. “I do have a couple calls to make, Dalt. Can we talk in the morning?”

  “This’ll just take a minute.” I take a deep breath. “I know we’re going to have a bunch of extra rehearsals and responsibilities with this VMA thing.”

  He nods. “That’s true. But it’s months away, nothing we have to worry about now.”

  “Just listen for a sec, please. I’ve been saying for weeks now that I need a break. I’m exhausted, and my voice and performances are suffering for it.”

  I can tell he’s struggling not to roll his eyes. “Your performances have been better than ever this week—”

  “Yeah, because I’ve been having a little fun. I’ve had friends here to hang out with, people to spend my down time with. I’ve had a personal life.”

  “Son, I know this is hard—”

  “I’m not complaining about the work, Dad. I understand that we need to work hard, and I’m happy to do it. But I need a break every once in a while. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ll be better for it.”

  He watches me carefully. “I can make an effort to schedule more free—”

  I’m shaking my head so hard he stops mid-sentence. “No. No more crap about making an effort or trying.” His eyes narrow, and I swallow. I never talk to my dad this way. But I need to get through to him. “It’s too easy to commit to stuff when you put it like that, Dad. There’s always some last-minute interview, some appearance you couldn’t pass up. It’s not good enough.”

  He looks angry. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I want an entire day off between shows when we get to New York.”

  He stares at me for a beat before a smile breaks over his face. “Nice try. Now, seriously, what do you have in mind?”

  “I’m not joking, Dad.”

  “Daltrey—”

  “Look, we’re in New York for five full days.”

  “Yes, because it’s the entertainment capital of the world. You have two concerts, several radio appearance, stops at MTV, VH1, and a performance on Letterman.”

  “All of which is fine. But if you want me to be at these events, you’re going to need to schedule them on four of the days. Because I’m taking one day off.”

  I can practically see his brain whirring, trying to come up with an argument that I’ll respond to. “Look, Dad. You’ve always told us that the worst thing that can happen to a musician is to lose his passion, right? That’s why you’re always so adamant about us not taking drugs. Think of all the friends you’ve lost from the old days because they were too high to give a shit about their music.”

  His face tightens. “Are you telling me that you’re experimenting with drugs, Daltrey? Does this have something to do with Daisy?”

  I laugh at the absurd idea of Daisy bringing me into the dark world of drug use. “No. I’m not on drugs. But I am worried that if I keep going at this pace, I’m going to be burned out by the time this tour is done. Like, seriously burned out. There are already days when I wish we could just go home, when the idea of picking up my guitar makes me feel ill. That scares me.”

  He stares at me. “That scares me a little too.”

  “Music is all I know. I don’t want to lose it just because I couldn’t take a damn day off. My brothers are feeling the same way, though maybe not as intensely as me. We need this.” />
  “Okay,” he says. “I’ll have to move a few things around, but you guys won’t have any band responsibilities on Wednesday of that week.”

  I feel a warm wave of relief rush over me. I wrap my arms around him for another hug, so happy that he finally listened to me, that he actually heard me. I see the look of surprise on his face right before I go in for the embrace, but he hugs me back.

  “Thanks, Dad.” I pull away. “Really, this means a lot to me.”

  “We should have scheduled it a long time ago, huh?” he asks, still wearing that slightly confused expression.

  I laugh. “Yeah, probably. And just so you know, I am taking the day off. If anything happens to be scheduled, either by accident or on purpose, I will not be there.” I turn to leave.

  He calls after me, “You know I’m proud of you, right, Daltrey?”

  I turn back to face him. “Um… yeah, Dad. Sure I do.”

  He nods once, his eyes on the floor. “I know I work you guys too hard. I… I don’t mean to. I just know how important it is for your careers that things go a certain way, that we take all of our opportunities. I never want you boys to live with regret the way that… the way that I do.”

  My chest constricts a bit at his words. My dad could have been a big deal back in the day. He’d left his band over a fight with the lead singer—an argument over my mother. He’d given up his big break for her. And look at how she repaid him.

  “We all know that, Dad. We want this just as bad as you do. I think we all… well, we hope someday you won’t have that regret either because you’ll look at what we’ve done and know it wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

  His head snaps up, and I’m pretty sure there’s wetness in his eyes. I start to get really uncomfortable. Dad clears his throat, a signal that he feels the same.

  “I’ll see ya in the morning,” I say, turning again.

  “Okay, son.”

  ***

  My brothers and I are pretty much on a high from the show and the VMA news. Our good mood has carried over to the girls and Levi.

  Levi arranged for a limo. Cash and Reed supplied it with champagne and whiskey from the dressing room, and they’re both well on their way to being tipsy by the time we get to a club downtown.

  “I am so ready to get dah-runk tonight!” Cash yells, pouring champagne for the girls. “What about you, pretty Paige? You wanna get drunk?”

  She laughs. “I think you’re already drunk.” She gently pushes his hand off her knee.

  I’m impressed. She appears to be over the star-struck thing and is treating my brother just like any other drunk jerk she might meet.

  “Good point,” Daisy adds. “Like, when are you not drunk, Cash?”

  “Hey.” He pouts. “I am often not drunk.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Reed says. “I don’t think you’ve been fully sober since before the tour started.”

  “You guys are pansies,” Cash says mock-sadly, shaking his head. “Am I the only one here who realizes that we are fucking rock stars?”

  “You’re fucking a rock star, Cash?” Karen asks. “Who?”

  Everyone laughs, including Cash, though he also flips her off.

  We all pile out, Benny in the lead. He, Frank, and two bouncers form a loose wall between the limo and the door of the club, but many of the people in line recognize us. A few of the girls start screaming, and I instinctively put my hand on Daisy’s elbow to guide her ahead of me. I don’t like being this close to fans, not after the last time one got a hold of me.

  It was back in Miami, right when things were starting to blow up, and we hadn’t yet seen the need to hire security. One night, we were accosted coming out of the hotel. A girl grabbed me, pulling so hard on my wrist with her talon-like nails that I had a bruise the next day. In the pulling and shouting that followed, I ended up getting knocked down and kicked pretty hard by a stiletto. It had been a pretty frightening experience; we hired Benny and Frank the next day.

  “You okay?” Daisy asks, looking over at me as we enter the club.

  “Yeah. Just didn’t want you to get separated and swallowed up in the crowd.”

  She smiles, and I realize how close she’s standing. The side of her breast grazes my arm, and a shiver runs down my back. When she looks up at me, her lips are only a few inches from mine. It would be so easy to just lean down and—

  “Come on, Daltrey,” Frank says from behind me. “Let’s keep up with your brothers.”

  I shake myself and hurry my pace, trying to ignore the way Daisy seems to be keeping her body pressed against mine. The club is crowded, but we’re attracting a lot of attention. Frank is right; we need to stay with the group.

  I catch sight of Benny standing beside a raised platform and guide Daisy in that direction. My brothers, Levi, and the other girls are sitting in a sprawling booth on the platform. We join them, Daisy sliding in first to sit next to Paige. There’s not much room left for me, and my leg is pressed right up against hers when I take my seat.

  A waitress already stands at the table, smiling, a bottle of Patròn in her hands. “For the table,” she says, placing it in front of Cash.

  He gives his best cocky smile and passes her a hundred-dollar bill.

  “You think you’re such hot shit!” I have to shout over the music.

  He flips me off. “I am hot shit. I’m going to be on the VMAs, baby!”

  “Yeah.” I gave him my biggest smirk. “Standing behind me.”

  “Now, now, boys,” Levi says, holding up his hands. “I propose a toast.”

  Daisy takes the bottle and starts pouring shots for everyone. She has to lean across the table to do it, and I’m having the hardest time not staring at her ass.

  Once we all have a glass in front of us, Levi raises his. “To Ransom,” he says. “For coming a long fucking way.”

  “And to those who’ve made it possible,” Lennon adds, nodding at Levi. “We couldn’t have done it without you, brother.”

  I nudge Daisy. “Or you.”

  “To us all,” Reed calls. “To this crazy life.”

  “And enjoying every minute of it,” Cash finishes.

  We all clink glasses before throwing the shots back. I’m feeling pretty buzzy already, a combination of champagne from the limo, the shot, and the nearness of Daisy. She grins at me, and I have a feeling she’s tipsy, too.

  “I want to dance,” Karen says, standing. “Someone come and dance with me.”

  Cash and Reed get up to join her and Paige, leaving Daisy, Lennon, Levi and me to continue on with the bottle of Patròn.

  I pour Daisy another shot, laughing as she eyes it warily. “Come on, Dais. I’ve never known you to be a lightweight.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me, lifting the glass to her lips without breaking eye contact. Then she tips her head back and swallows the shot in one go. “Who are you calling a lightweight? I believe I’m one up on you, buddy.”

  I grin and rectify the situation.

  “MTV, huh?” she says. “That’s pretty cool, Dalt.”

  I nod. “I kind of can’t believe it.”

  “I can. I always knew you guys would make it big. I’m not joking. From the first time I heard you play.”

  “We were, like, six the first time you heard me play.”

  “I mean the band,” she says, bumping me with her shoulder. I try to ignore the little fission of heat that shoots up my side at the contact. “The first time I heard you all play together, we were ten, and we were out in your garage. I’ll never forget it. Lennon looked so tiny under his bass.”

  I chuckle. “And he got so mad because he wanted to play guitar.”

  She nods. “I think he cried.”

  We both laugh, looking across the table at my brother. He’s deep in conversation with Levi, though, seemingly oblivious to our discussion.

  I lean a little closer to Daisy. “Do you remember that one time he got stuck under the bridge when we were river tubing? And he cried for, like, a
half hour afterward?”

  She slaps my arm playfully. “You’re mean. He was just a kid, and he was legitimately scared.”

  “Yeah, because he thought there were spiders under there.”

  She laughs. “That boy does hate spiders.”

  “Didn’t he call you up to his room to kill one once?”

  She hits my arm again. “You’re not supposed to know about that. I was sworn to secrecy.”

  “Hey,” Lennon says, and Daisy jumps, looking guilty. “We’re going down to the dance floor. You coming?”

  I look at Daisy, and she shakes her head a little. “No. We’ll stay here.”

  Levi and Lennon get up and step off the platform.

  I turn back to Daisy. “You usually like dancing. What’s up?”

  She shrugs and looks uncomfortable.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask.

  She sighs and says something.

  “What?” I lower my head so I can hear her better.

  She leans toward my ear. “There’s too many people.”

  I think about what she said about being anxious around crowds. “I’m sorry, Daisy. We didn’t have to come out tonight.”

  “Of course we did. We’re celebrating.” Her face seems to flush a little under the flashing colored lights. “Besides, I like it here. With you, I mean.”

  I feel a swooping in my stomach that I know has nothing to do with the alcohol. “Yeah?”

  She looks right at me, her green eyes bright. “Yeah.”

  I want to kiss her so fucking badly. It’s all I can do to keep from grabbing her face and pressing my lips to hers. I know exactly how she’ll taste, how her little breathy gasp will sound.

  She looks away first, reaching for the bottle and pouring another shot. I think her hands tremble a bit as she brings the glass to her mouth. Is she feeling what I’m feeling?