Working for the Band Read online

  Before things got weird, I said, “Hold on,” and pulled out my phone, opening it up to the note app where I kept all my passwords. “I need your login and password info.”

  “My login’s my email address, the Gmail one.”

  I nodded as I entered it into my app. When he didn’t say anything for a long moment, I looked up at him. He was chewing his lip.

  “What?”

  He dropped his eyes away from mine. “My password. It’s...I should probably change it. It’s not...it’s not a really secure one, I guess.”

  His sudden weirdness about his password meant something, and my stomach rolled over in dread as I had a feeling what was coming. “Max?”

  “It’s Marie2001. All one word.”

  Of course, it was. Of course, he would use his girlfriend’s name in his password. “Do you want me to change it for you?” I asked.

  He nodded. And then, like it was just too much all of a sudden, he closed his laptop, jumped up from the table, and disappeared into his bunk without another word.

  Thinking about Gary’s words from the night before about how not to take how he acted personally, and that it was just how Max needed to work through things, I was able to let him go. While I wanted to help him, I reminded myself that I didn’t need to fix him, even though I knew he was hurting. He was allowed to hurt; it was his right.

  But I appreciated that he didn’t lash out at me.

  It felt like progress. For both of us.

  The Festival of Sowing and Reaping

  We’d left Seattle after returning to the bus from Chris’s farewell dinner with his family. But it wasn’t a long drive to Portland, so Gary kept an easy pace on the road. It was more gentle sway than rocking and rolling, as he put it.

  Darren and I had been the last holdouts to kill a few zombies before bed, staying up later than the others. But I was finally in my bunk, ready for sleep after the long day we’d had, when the text came in from Ted.

  So tomorrow, he sent, just as I was about to send him a message about the next day. I smiled; great minds and all.

  I sent a thumbs up emoji and then: want to meet at the craft booths and act like regular fair folk? Ill bring a wig & sunglasses disguise for u.

  Can’t, he sent back. Have to do a media event offsite.

  So that was disappointing. Here I thought I was going to get some actual time with him before the concerts (Wiretap was going on right before Zen Garden, allowing the two bands to overlap and play a song together—leveraging all the buzz we’d been building since we met them at the Hall of Fame).

  Not all was lost, though. Since Tony and Billy, Zen Garden’s manager, were old friends, Nessa had put together a reception for the two bands for after the concerts so we would get a chance to meet up. Though because we would be hitting the road at the end of the night, it likely meant I’d get something like eighteen minutes with Ted. Probably none of it alone.

  Eighteen minutes is not a lot of time, even for a casual, one-time cowboy hookup. Instead of Yee-Haw, it was going to be Yee-Hurry Up

  Maybe Ted felt my disappointment through the cell network because he then assured me: we’ll make it count.

  I liked the sound of that, whatever it meant. Reception after concert?

  Looking forward to it, he sent.

  Me, too, I returned. I was so looking forward to it.

  The next morning I didn’t need my bunk calendar to know I’d woken up in Portland because the day to come (the Wiretap concert, the Zen Garden concert, the combo of the two, plus what would come after) had permeated my dreams for most of the night. I couldn’t remember actual events and how they’d turned out, but I woke up jazzed to get on with it and experience it for real.

  As much as I, the completely, totally non-morning person—could ever be jazzed about anything before noon and forty or so cups of coffee.

  After I used the bathroom and made myself somewhat presentable, I went up front to find the bus was already parked in the secure lot backstage. It was starting to not freak me out as much, waking up in a completely different place than we’d been in when I went to bed. It was something I hadn’t thought I’d ever get used to but was now commonplace.

  Sort of like how now I didn’t bother with makeup anymore—at least not first thing. I never, ever imagined I’d get to a point where I would let a crew of guys, rock stars, no less, see me before makeup—no actually worse than that—straight out of bed with sleepy eyes and bedhead. Past self would think I had given up. But present self did not have it in her to doll up for the guys first thing in the morning. Especially when present self thought about what some of them looked like as they rolled out of their bunks, moaning and scratching—Tony called them zombies for good reason.

  After a coffee infusion and some set up to make the bus into the guys’ dressing room for the festival that didn’t have the space for official green rooms, Nessa and I headed out.

  It was nice to have a bit of time to take a break and just hang out. Even though we lived and worked together, our jobs were so crazy busy (not to mention that I was a night owl and she was a morning person) that it seemed like we were ships passing in the night.

  Had it only been three days since we’d had our day off together? It felt like forever ago, and as much as I loved being on tour, I’d thought she and I would have more bestie time together.

  We wandered around the craft vendors, and I was just going to suggest we go find some funnel cake or other deep-fried festival fat bomb of goodness, when she blurted out: “Uh, so I’m planning something crazy.”

  I gave her a sidelong look because something crazy to her could mean stripes with plaid, or God help us all, full-fat salad dressing. “What do you mean, something crazy?”

  She pulled me away from the costume jewelry booth we were at until we were standing alone beside a very greasy and delicious-smelling food truck.

  “Something crazy that will maybe get Dave to stay on.”

  Oh. That kind of crazy. I liked the sound of it, especially because it meant the ball I’d started rolling, the one where at the end of it, her and Will were together, was gathering steam. I crossed my arms and ignored the food aroma-induced watering in my mouth, telling my gut we’d celebrate whatever this was with some treats after.

  “I’m listening,” I said.

  She took a deep breath and began. “So I’ve arranged it with the Zen Garden guys—through Billy—that they’re going to play one of Dave’s grandfather’s songs when the bands overlap on stage. They’re going to get him to take lead on it.”

  Legion Thunder, Will’s grandfather’s band, had been huge back in the day and had a lot of really great songs—some that had been covered a lot and so were still on the radio. The crowd would love that, especially if Will was going to take lead and sing—fans ate that kind of legacy stuff up.

  “But wait,” I said, realizing it was the first I’d heard of this plan, which meant... “He has no idea?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head.

  Whoa. My mind spun with the implications of springing something like that on Will in the middle of a gig while he was on stage. “That’s a really risky move, Nessa. What if he says no?”

  Her eyes widened. “He can’t.”

  I knew what she was saying, that failure wasn’t an option, but she couldn’t know for sure. What if he balked and walked off stage? “But what if he does?”

  She exhaled loudly, shaking her head. “I guess Eddie can take it if he has to. But Dave told me he wished he could have played with his grandfather. Obviously, he can’t now that his grandfather’s gone, but this is close, right?”

  I wondered when she’d had time to have this big heart to heart with Will about his grandfather and how he’d wished they could have played together. Was this what they’d talked about in the sauna? Or maybe in the mornings while I was still in my bunk since they both seemed to be morning people?

  Don’t get me wrong, I was all for them having deep, meaningful conversations
, it’s just that I didn’t normally miss much going on around me in that tiny tin can. Kudos to her, though, for keeping her growing fondness (the one she wouldn’t even admit to herself) for Will on the down low.

  But I loved that she was working on a plan to keep him around. I had no idea what that would mean for Chris or the other guys but trusted that Tony would work things out. Because Will wasn’t just a great guy and the perfect match for my best friend—he was an amazing musician and needed to stay on tour. We owed it to music fans everywhere to keep him in Wiretap.

  Nessa was looking at me hopefully, so I shook off my thoughts and nodded in agreement. “It’s risky as hell, but it’s a great idea. I just hope he goes for it.”

  “He has to,” Nessa said. “Right?”

  “But wait...That’s...I mean, that’ll be great for him, but it’s not something that’s going to make him stay in the band.”

  She bit her lip again. “There’s more.”

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  “I invited his parents.”

  I smacked her arm. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. My dad’s probably going to freak that I went behind his back and used the emergency contact information from Linda’s files, but...” she shrugged. “Anyway, it worked; they’re coming tonight for the concert.”

  “And he has no idea about that, either?”

  “Nope,” she said, her eyes widening and her face twisting up into a grimace as if she only just realized what she’d done. “Crazy, right?”

  “Totally crazy,” I said. “But I love it.”

  “He’s going to hate me.”

  Will was a pretty easygoing guy. Who was into Nessa, but was trying really hard to hide it, so no, I didn’t think he’d hate her for what she was doing. At least not once he realized why she did it. And learned that she was into him.

  “No, he won’t,” I assured her, squeezing her arm. “He might not like the surprise, but you’re doing it for him, right?”

  “He wants to stay,” she said, nodding. “I know he does. He’s as much as said it, but he’s afraid of upsetting his parents. His grandfather was pretty hard core back in the day, and it took a toll on his family, his mom and his grandmother. But they don’t know how talented he is. He hides it from them, so they don’t worry about the possibility of him following in his grandfather’s footsteps.”

  “But your dad would never let that happen to him. As long as he sticks with Tony—or even Billy for that matter, any good manager who cares about his band—he won’t mess up his life. But yeah, he has the potential to hit it big with these guys.” I looked around and then leaned in close. “Maybe even more than the other guys. Does he understand just how good he is?”

  “He’s starting to,” she said. “I honestly don’t think he knew until he started with them. He’s so freaking modest, though—seriously, it’s....” she trailed off with a shrug.

  It’s adorable, I didn’t finish for her. I didn’t want to shove her dawning feelings for him into her face—it was better they unfold in her own head than have her ever think I pushed her at him.

  Instead, I said, “We have to make it happen. He needs to stay with the band. We’ll make it happen, Nessa.”

  She was nodding along, not looking quite as worried as before. “Exactly. So my plan is to show his parents how good he is and get my dad to ease their fears in person. I think Dave’s totally been holding back on what he’s told them about the band and tour. When I talked to them, they didn’t seem to have any idea. I bet he told them it was just a garage band or something.” She got a twinkle in her eye just then. “It’s my duty to set them straight, right?”

  “It is. It’s brilliant, Nessa,” I said. “It has to work.”

  She gave me a sheepish look. “You’re not pissed that I kept it from you?”

  I snorted. “Yes. Of course I am,” I said, though she knew I was mostly joking. I was actually probably more pissed that Ted hadn’t said anything even though he had to know the plan. They had to have rehearsed the song, which was probably why Nessa had gotten Zen Garden in on the plan—if she’d had our band do it, it would have leaked.

  Had Ted been sworn to secrecy? And even if so, wasn’t I higher on his secret hierarchy than Nessa? Unless the order had come from Billy...

  Whatever. It’s not like I could complain too much since I had some secrets of my own that I wasn’t ready to reveal yet. Like how I was playing the part of master matchmaker in my best friend’s life and thanks to her unwitting help (and her own need to fix things), everything was falling right into place.

  After we worked out the logistics of how the evening was going to go down, I put an arm around Nessa’s shoulders. “It’s going to be a long day, I think we need to fuel up with some funnel cake. My treat.”

  “You really are the best friend ever,” Nessa said, batting her eyelashes at me.

  “Don’t you forget it,” I said, turning her toward the food trucks.

  The funnel cake wasn’t my treat after all; I went to pay for it on my dad’s Visa, but it got declined. The vendor didn’t seem concerned, in fact, she seemed embarrassed, saying it happened a lot, especially when wireless networks were sketchy at festivals.

  I might have believed her with how convincing she was, but I suddenly wondered if when Dad had said not to use the bank account, he’d meant the Visa, too. I also wondered again what was going on with him. I still hadn’t heard back from him, which, in itself wasn’t cause for alarm, but now...

  Not wanting to let on about anything weird going on with my family, I made a mental note to call my stepmother later as I went along with the vendor, making it seem like it had to be the network because what else could it be? It couldn’t possibly be that my crook of a father had gotten us into any actual trouble and his accounts had gotten frozen. Nope; that was the kind of thing that happened in the movies.

  Thankfully, Nessa pulled some bills out of her pocket and paid for our funnel cakes. If she thought anything weird about my credit card situation, she didn’t let on, seeming to buy the vendor’s story, too.

  I tried to hide my embarrassment as I thanked her and offered to pay her back, but she waved me off and reminded me that, unlike me, she was getting paid to be on tour.

  “I mean, seriously,” she said. “You do so much for us, the least we can do is pay for your food. Don’t even think of paying me back.”

  Oh, I was thinking of paying her back. I absolutely planned to, but in currency way better than money. I was going to get her a boyfriend. A good boyfriend who was not just a rock star, but a great guy who was already crazy into her.

  That had to be worth more than funnel cake. Though as I stuffed a forkful of the doughy, sugary, strawberry-y goodness into my mouth and moaned in pleasure, I thought maybe it was a push.

  Moonlight in Her Eyes

  It all hinged on this. I figured it could go either way, as Eddie, the lead singer of Zen Garden, encouraged Will to return to the stage. I held my breath, waiting.

  The two bands had just played Brooklyn Girl together and Wiretap had left but, as Nessa had planned, Eddie had called Will back to play the Legion Thunder song—their popular love ballad: Moonlight in Her Eyes.

  I was seriously worried that he was going to refuse, which would be a total disaster for so many reasons. Nessa had to be holding her own breath from her spot on stage right. If Will refused, her entire plan would collapse, meaning embarrassment for her, both bands, and her father. Not to mention that Will would probably be really pissed she’d schemed in the first place.

  I’d also been worried that he’d found out about the plan in advance and would put the kibosh on it. But the way he looked now as he walked back out, unable to hide that he was both emotional and stunned, told me he’d had no idea. Plus, if he had known in advance and didn’t want to do it, he would have shut it down before the show.

  But obviously, that wasn’t the case. Even from down in the crowd, I could see every emotion cross his face as he retu
rned and Eddie moved aside for him. Will took the spot in front of the center mic, his guitar still slung upside down across his back.

  He glanced over at where I knew Nessa stood in the wings. I couldn’t see her but could imagine her relief because that look, even as quick as it was, said everything. From ‘you are forgiven’ to ‘thank you’ and even (maybe I was being hopeful?) ‘you are so getting kissed later.'

  I did a mental fist pump for my friend as I bent down and checked the camera on the tripod again to make sure it was catching all of this in crystal clear focus. If all went well, someday their grandkids were going to want to see it. I smiled, caught up in my thoughts.

  So caught up was I, that I startled when a body appeared next to me. “Hey. How’s it going?” he said, close enough that I heard him over the general roar of the crowd. As I turned, I found myself face to face with some random guy in a baseball cap and a Zen Garden t-shirt. I sighed and was going to give him the brush off (and also give Randy, the roadie who was supposed to be my impromptu bodyguard to keep members of the audience away from my camera, a piece of my mind for letting this guy get so close) when I recognized the blue, blue eyes. What I didn’t recognize was the smile in them, making me second-guess.

  I leaned in close, squinting, wishing the light coming from the stage wasn’t so bright because it was making it hard to see in the dusk. Or maybe my disbelief was clouding my vision. “Max?”

  He leaned closer. “Yeah, shh.”

  I looked around, but no one seemed to be paying us any attention. “What are you doing out here?” I whispered as Eddie and Will clasped hands on stage, my relief only barely registering.

  He nodded up toward the stage and gave a brief nod. “You kidding? I didn’t want to miss this.”

  “You shouldn’t be out here, though.”

  He shrugged and looked around. “No one knows. It’s all good; I’ll just hang with you for this song.”

  I was going to say something, but at that moment, the intro to Moonlight in Her Eyes transitioned, and Will started to sing, grabbing our attention. In unspoken agreement, Max and I turned toward the stage to watch as Will memorialized his grandfather.