Matter of Fact

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “Not really. I haven’t been to a show in ages. Never in a box.”

  When she’d asked Harrison for tickets for Iris’s birthday, he’d gotten so excited that he went above and beyond. In fact, the dinner they were eating was courtesy of Harrison O’Neil, lead guitarist extraordinaire. So was the limo chauffeuring them around for the evening.

  He’d hooked her up with a private box in the stadium and backstage passes.

  It might have been a little overkill on his part, but that’s how Harrison did things. He went the extra mile, made the bigger deal, forced his love on you in any way he could.

  He was too adorable to be part of a nefarious band of rock stars.

  “Are you close with your family?” Nathan asked next.

  “For the most part.” Miranda smiled as she thought about her family. “Grew up just outside of Boston. I was the oldest so naturally the leader.” She chuckled and took a drink of water. “My parents are awesome and supportive. Though I think they indulge my baby sister a little too much.”

  Iris snorted from beside her.

  “Life takes us all over, but we always make sure to come home for Christmas.” Which was only a week away. Miranda already had her bags packed and she was counting down the days to her flight. Going home for the holidays was her favorite part of the year. “All the aunts and uncles and cousins come. Both sides of the family. We all decorate the tree together, sing songs, make cookies, eat for days. Christmas to us is like Spring Break for others. It’s just fun and sugar for a week.”

  “My family likes to get drunk, say all the things they really think about each other, and then not speak for another year.” Iris lifted her wine in toast. “It’s great fun.”

  Miranda snorted at her friend’s dry delivery. The McPhee Family dysfunction was a common topic and Iris coped with humor.

  It was one of the reasons they were such good friends.

  The girl was hilarious.

  Nathan nodded politely, his eyes tracking between Iris and Miranda and Miranda recognized the shadow of confusion in his eyes.

  “How about your family?” she asked.

  “We don’t celebrate holidays,” he answered, looking away in discomfort.

  “Oh. Are you close though?” she asked.

  Nathan inhaled deeply. “I’m close to my brother but not with my sisters. Too big of an age gap.”

  “How about you, Mark?” Miranda asked Iris’s boyfriend. He hadn’t really said much during dinner and now Miranda was aching for someone else to carry the conversation. The more she learned about Nathan, the more she realized they had absolutely nothing in common.

  It was the kind of thing most people noticed on the first date. But their first date had been to a play and then he had t rush off to work. So they hadn’t really had the “getting to know you” conversation.

  Mark must’ve taken the hint because he wiped his mouth with his napkin and launched into detail about his family and their holiday plans. He spent the rest of dinner regaling them with sill stories that made Iris laugh uncontrollably.

  Miranda was happy for her friend.

  Iris deserved someone who loved to make her laugh.

  ***

  “Do you think you’ll see Carl?” Iris asked when the guys had left the table to go pay the bill.

  The very mention of his name had Miranda sitting up straight and glancing around the room. As if he would materialize at any moment.

  It was the one thought she’d been trying to avoid having all night.

  “Maybe.” Miranda took a deep breath. “I mean, as far as I know he still works for the band.” That was true. It’s all she knew She didn’t ask about him anymore and Harrison didn’t offer information.

  She smoothed her hands down her black skinny jeans, and tugged on the hem of her white silk cami.

  “Nervous?” Iris asked the obvious.

  Miranda shot her a glare but it lacked any real threat.

  “When was the last time you talked to him?” Iris asked too casually, reaching for her glass of water.

  Not since she’d left the hotel in Germany that morning without saying goodbye.

  That had been more than two years ago.

  But Iris didn’t know about that. It was a memory that Miranda had kept for herself. A shared moment of beauty and solace. Something that didn’t and would never belong to anyone else but them.

  “A long time,” Miranda replied softly, her eyes losing focus as she recalled the week she’d spent by his side when everything had been falling apart.

  Iris sat back in the seat, a thoughtful expression tugging at her eyebrows. Nothing more was said about it as the men returned and they all went outside to the waiting limo.

  Nathan slid close to Miranda, a wide symmetrical smile on his perfectly balanced face and she forced a smile.

  It didn’t matter if she saw Carl Darrow tonight. She was on a date. It would be impolite to forget that small fact.

  But she’d be lying if she said that the thought hadn’t already occurred to her and that was exactly why she’d made sure to bring a date with her. To keep her head level.

  Just in case.

  ***

  CARL

  “I have a drummer, a lead singer, a bassist, and an asshole.”

  “Are you building a rock and roll superbot?”

  Carl glanced up in time to catch Lenny’s cheeky grin. He was not amused.

  “Where is the curly-haired one?” he asked.

  Lenny averted her eyes and rolled her lips inward.

  “He’s eating again, isn’t he?” Carl huffed and closed his eyes. He’d stopped praying for patience years ago. There was no point. Patience was the equivalent of a fairy godmother. Sure, it would be nice to have, but unrealistic.

  “He may have been seen with a sandwich a few minutes ago.” Lenny took a step forward and brought her clipboard to her chest. “Speaking of Harrison, he asked me to secure four VIP tickets at will-call tonight. He asked them to be brought backstage after the show. Did you know about that?”

  Carl frowned as he scanned his memory for any conversation with Harrison about VIP tickets. But there was nothing.

  “He didn’t mention it…” His voice trailed off as he realized why Harrison wouldn’t have said anything. “Uh, what…what was the name on the ticket?”

  Lenny glanced down at the clipboard. “Miranda O’Neil. I assume a relative…?”

  Carl smirked. “Yeah. She’s his sister.”

  Lenny tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the curve in his mouth. He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together.

  “Tell that little shit to get back to work.”

  Lenny nodded but her suspicious expression remained.

  Carl waved her away and headed to the sound booth where Greg was doing final checks.

  So Miranda was coming to the show.

  He pulled out his phone and thumbed through recent emails, missed calls, and texts. But as he’d suspected, there was nothing from her.

  Why would there be?

  They’d…drifted.

  Of course she’d ask her brother for tickets and not him. Contacting him after this long would have been awesome.

  Eh. Awkward.

  It would have been awkward.

  They hadn’t caught up in a spell.

  Why she was even in Kansas City, he had no idea. Maybe she lived here now?

  Last he’d heard she’d been working for a place in D.C. but spending most of the time flying all around the world.

  The last time he’d spoken to her had been…

  Well.

  He knew exactly the last time they had shared space.

  They’d shared a lot that week. And especially that last night after Mike had come out of his coma.

  And when he’d awakened the morning after to a gray sky and empty bed, he realized she’d done what he’d never have let her do if he’d been awake for it—walk away.

  That had been more than two years ago.
<
br />   A lot had changed, but too much was the same.

  They’d made their choices and followed their dreams.

  She was off saving the world and he was still wrangling rock stars.

  Those two worlds had never meshed.

  But still, seeing Miranda again would be…

  Nice.

  “How is everything looking?” he asked Greg. “Please say good.”

  “Everything is perfect. We have lights. We have sound. We have rock stars.”

  Greg swiveled around in his chair and waggled his eyebrows at the tour manager.

  “Last show before break. It’s gonna be fine.”

  Carl sure hoped so. But to hide that hope, he simply scowled.

  The volume in the auditorium began to build as more people filtered in to find their seats. Carl looked up to where the private seats were and narrowed his eyes.

  It was too far away to pick out any details.

  He’d just have to see her after the show.

  The alarm on Greg’s watch went off and the sound man turned around, flipping switches.

  “Here we go,” he announced to no one and everyone.

  The lights went down as the sound of the audience came up.

  A low hum from a guitar plugged into an amp was the only sound on stage.

  Of all the tours he’d done with these guys, this one had been their best.

  And he had been this close to not being there for it.

  When they’d come to him months ago, asking for him to be there for them as they relaunched their career—new rules, new goals, new music—he’d declined.

  Repeatedly.

  But they wouldn’t do it without him and eventually they wore him down.

  Truthfully, it had been Harrison who’d finally softened his heart.

  He’d always had a hard time saying no to that kid.

  And now they were at the end of the US leg of the tour.

  They’d made it. With only one small incident in Virginia Beach.

  The band crossed the stage and Luke Casey waved a hand at the crowd. It erupted in thunderous applause.

  Lenny Evans, the band’s assistant that Carl had personally hired to help oversee this tour joined him in the sound booth. She grinned at Carl as Mike struck the high hat, signaling the start of their setlist.

  Yep. They had it all.

  They had heart, talent, energy, and this time around, hard earned wisdom.

  It was the closest Carl had felt all tour to being alleviated of the constant guilt her carried on his shoulders.

  The setlist continued without incident and Carl, taking once last glance above to the private box, headed to the stage area. All he could see was the stage lights bouncing and reflecting around the arena.

  But he knew she was there.

  A feeling of nostalgia and homesickness washed over him even as he smiled.

  Miranda would always be home to him.

  ***

  They were reaching the point in the show where they liked to throw in a cover song. Usually something to get the audience amped and sing along.

  One of Carl’s per peeves was that they always kept it a secret from him. He was positive they only did that just to piss him off.

  And he played it up because if they thought they were getting away with shit when it was this small, they were likely to not get into bigger shit.

  He stopped at the edge of the stage and took stock of the band—his band.

  They were loud as heck.

  And healthy.

  And happy.

  As if reading his mind, Mike glanced his direction and grinned at him while twirling one drumstick in his fingers.

  Carl almost smiled back.

  He stopped himself in time and just sent the drummer a head nod.

  Damn. They were all still so young and hopeful.

  It was as if that last tour had taught them more than even Carl could tell.

  They had embraced it, instead of hiding from it.

  Someday Carl would tell them how much they inspired him.

  Not yet, though.

  But someday.

  “We have a special guest in the audience tonight,” Luke announced, panting into the microphone. He took a drink of water and pointed to the box seats.

  “Harry’s sister Miranda is here with her partner in crime, Iris.” The guitar tech ran out and looped a guitar around Luke Casey. “It’s Iris’s birthday today.”

  The crowd screamed and Carl smirked.

  God, they were loved.

  Without even trying.

  “Iris has been a fan of us since before we even had a band name.” Luke checked the tuning o his guitar and played a small hint of what was coming. Not enough to give it away though.

  “She was also the fan of another band that we all looked up to seeing as they were also from Boston.” He adjusted the mic stand, building the anticipation.

  “So this one is for you, Iris.”

  Carl was fairly certain he recognized Iris’s very distinct squeal above the rest of the crowd.

  Luke wasn’t lying.

  Iris and Miranda had been tight way back when. Carl remembered Iris making it to more shows than Miranda ever had. Biggest fan was probably an understatement.

  It would be good to see that pistol again, too.

  Luke began the very recognizable intro to The Cars’ “My Best Friend’s Girl.”

  Carl snorted a laugh.

  Wow.

  Just when he thought they couldn’t get any more surprising, they hit it out of the park.

  Chapter 2

  Smoke

  MIRANDA

  “Did you bring us cookies?”

  Miranda spun around in time to be caught up in the arms of a tattooed, black-haired guitarist who not ten minutes ago she’d watched destroy his instrument on stage and send the pieces flying into a thankful audience.

  “Blake!” she squealed, wrapping her arms tight around his neck as he spun her in a circle once and set her down.

  “Harry didn’t tell us you were going to be here until right before the show!” The next declaration came from a long-haired blond bassist. Sway embraced her, crushing her against his sweaty torso. But she didn’t mind.

  Luke, the lead singer came next. He bent to give her a more sedate hug than the first two. “It’s been a while, Ran.”

  She rested her hands on his forearms and peered into his clear eyes. Last time she’d seen him, he’d been so drunk he hadn’t even noticed her. “You look great, Luke. The tour seems to be treating you well.”

  He grinned, adding a sparkle to those bright blues and causing her to catch her breath.

  “I dare say, you look happy,” she added softly.

  He chuckled softly, releasing her and stepping aside. Her gaze followed him for a moment as the details began to catch up with her.

  This tour was the first since “the incident.” She’d spoken to Harrison about it and they had a lot of goals this time around. Different from when they’d first started selling out stadiums.

  They were more realistic and careful in their expectations.

  Especially of themselves.

  On stage they’d played with a noticeable intensity.

  They played with a freedom she hadn’t seen in years.

  But only the people who really knew them would notice those things.

  Mike came next. Soft blue eyes and sweat-soaked hair, his shirt plastered to his chest, he grinned and tossed his empty water bottle in the a nearby receptacle.

  He sang the opening line of Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon,” holding a hand to his heart.

  “Don’t you play with me like that, Mike Osborn,” she scolded instantly with a finger point. She loved Fleetwood Mac and had long tried to get the band to cover one of their songs. “Rhiannon” being her favorite.

  He barked a laugh and grabbed hold of her for a hug of his own. And what a hug.

  Miranda closed her eyes and clutched the sides of his damp t-shirt, fee
ling grateful tears burn in her eyes.

  “You’re coming home for Christmas, aren’t you?” she asked, wiping away errant tears.

  He gazed down at her with eyes so clear they were almost crystal. “Yeah, Ran. I’ll be home for Christmas.”

  “Yay!” she whisper-yelled adding a large smile.

  Mike hadn’t been back for Christmas in two years. He’d been in rehab one year and then last year he hadn’t felt comfortable being around the big family. What with everything that had happened.

  “Stop hogging my sister.” Harrison shoved Mike aside and wrapped Miranda in a hug. “So glad you made it!” He pulled back. “Was dinner good? I haven’t eaten there but the reviews looked good.” He hugged her again. “You give the best hugs, Ran.” He pulled away again. “The limo was on time? No one gave you a hard time?”

  Miranda couldn’t stop laughing a him. Oh, she had missed her little brother.

  “Yes. The food, the limo, the seats. Everything was perfect.”

  He grinned, pleased his efforts had been successful.

  “Happy Birthday, Iris McPhee!” he declared, scooping Miranda’s bestie into a hug. “Double Blind’s greatest fan of all time!”

  The whole band joined in for the “greatest fan of all time” declaration like they always did.

  It was probably the single biggest reason Iris had remained such a steadfast and loyal fan—they treated her like royalty.

  They’d probably continue with their antics long into the future.

  Miranda couldn’t actually picture them growing up.

  Getting older, yes. Acting their age? Never.

  And thank God for that.

  It could have gone very differently.

  But when they’d spun out and fallen apart two years ago, instead of getting discouraged with the climb back up, they’d did what they’d always done—they regrouped, refocused, and remained hopeful.

  She was so damn proud of them.

  It was so difficult chasing a dream.

  It was especially harder when you had it, and then lost it.