This One’s For You Page 11

  “Did you know they’re the only naturally occurring marsupial in Texas?”

  She smirked at me. “I didn’t know that, no.”

  “They’re also immune to rabies and help control the tick population.”

  She shook her head at me like I was being weird. “You seem to know a lot about possums.”

  “I like animals.” I shrugged. “I think I also might be somewhat shell-shocked.”

  Wendy nodded. “I’m really sorry this happened to you. When Jason and I first got together we were in the tabloids a lot. At first it was really jarring and horrible, but I got used to it. You will too.” I wasn’t sure I would, but I smiled at her anyway. “Ian was looking for you,” she added. “Something about a plan?” Her smile faded. “Be careful, Vanessa. He means well, but sometimes Ian’s schemes don’t always work as intended.”

  * * *

  “Damage control,” Ian told me when I found him in the lobby. “What we need is a little damage control.”

  “Is this about the possum?”

  He blinked at me in confusion. “What about a possum?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to get into it. Apparently, he hadn’t heard me scream this morning. I didn’t want him to get upset. I’d explain later. “Never mind. Tell me about your plan.”

  Ian grinned and gestured at the cushy club chair across from him. I perched on the edge of it. We were supposed to be getting ready to leave, but I supposed we could spare a couple of minutes. Jack and Tom weren’t even downstairs yet.

  “So, what you need to do,” Ian told me, “is to give the paparazzi something else to gossip about.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to give them anything.” What I wanted was to hide under a rock until this all blew over. The last thing I needed was to garner more attention.

  Ian’s expression was understanding. “I can see why you’d feel that way, but I talked to Ryan about it, and he agreed that this could work. I wouldn’t be suggesting it otherwise,” Ian continued. “Right now, the gossip world is convinced that you’re carrying on some kind of torrid affair with a married man and rock superstar. Working up his fanatical fanbase is as genius as it is cruel. What we need to do is convince them that you’re actually carrying on a torrid affair with somebody else. Somebody harmless. Me.”

  I blinked. I was sort of doing that already. “You want to distract them with, um, us?”

  He grinned at me. Maybe there was something to Ian’s plan. “Exactly,” he told me. “All we need to do is spend some time conspicuously out in public together and the paparazzi will get bored. Our relationship isn’t scandalous at all. They’ll move on to ruining someone else’s online reputation.”

  “Our relationship?”

  “Fake relationship. For the cameras.” He grinned at me and his blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

  I got the feeling he didn’t intend for anything about it to be fake. Temptation hit me like a freight train. I thought back to the roller rink.

  Even if Ian wasn’t damn tempting, angry people were mailing me roadkill. I clearly needed to do something. Maybe Ian’s plan wasn’t such a terrible idea. Once people saw the pictures of me and Ian, they’d realize that they’d been bamboozled by the first story. I mean, they didn’t have any proof that Jason and I had ever done more than shake hands (because, um, we hadn’t).

  I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  “Okay? Meaning you’ll do it?”

  I nodded warily. Ian’s plan couldn’t make things any worse than they already were. And at least this way, I could spend more time with him. Alone. With no stakes, because it was ‘fake.’ “What the hell,” I told him. “I’ll do it.”

  25

  Ian

  Tom was the one who ended up telling me about the dead possum Vanessa got sent in Dallas, clearly thinking I already knew. It was probably good that we were already over the Louisiana border when he did, because I blew a fucking gasket. I marched up to the front of the bus, livid, frustrated, and indignant.

  “Stop the bus,” I ordered our driver, Clark. “Turn it around.”

  “Huh?” he replied, pulling out his earbud.

  “Stop. The. Bus.” I didn’t think I could be clearer, but he was still heading east.

  Clark frowned. “What? Why? We have to be in New Orleans by this afternoon.”

  “Fuck New Orleans. We have to go back.” I wondered how hard it would be to push him out of the way and grab the wheel. He was little dude. I could probably do it.

  “We can’t,” Clark explained as if I was a small, particularly dim child. “We have to go to New Orleans.”

  “I have to get to Dallas.” My blood pressure was just below aneurism-inducing levels. I could feel my vision narrowing to a tunnel. It had been years since I’d felt so angry.

  I immediately wanted to turn around and hunt down whoever in Dallas did such a horrible thing. I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I found them. I wasn’t thinking ahead. I was barely thinking at all.

  Before I could commandeer the bus and turn us around, Don and Jay appeared from nowhere. Don always seemed to have a sixth sense for trouble. “Clark, ignore him,” Don said. “Ian, go sit down.”

  “Someone sent Vanessa roadkill and nobody told me!” I snapped.

  Don looked unimpressed. “Yeah, and then Tom had to go and ruin it.”

  “You told them all not to tell me?” I was instantly suspicious of Don. Had he told Vanessa not to tell me? I’d been so excited to tell her about my plan earlier I hadn’t listened…

  Don shook his head. “Nothing nearly so sinister. There was no conspiracy. We just all knew better.”

  “What?”

  “Obviously nobody wanted to set you off. We knew you’d act like this.”

  I paused. They didn’t tell me because they knew I would react like an idiot. Because I was an idiot who did idiotic things. That was my M.O. No matter what I did, or how much better I was, the band still thought I was always on the edge of an epic fuckup. Because I was. Guilt, embarrassment, and recrimination started to kick in, but it didn’t eclipse my anger.

  “Fuck you, Don.”

  He didn’t seem remotely frightened of me, despite the fact that I had five inches and fifty pounds on him. He knew he was in control, and I wasn’t. “Go sit down, Ian. Listen to some soothing music or something.”

  I stormed out of the ‘cockpit’ and back towards where Vanessa was sitting with Rosie. Rosie took off. Vanessa saw me coming and closed her laptop. She’d clearly heard my outburst at the front of the bus. I was still steaming mad, but the look on her face gave me a dose of reality. She looked worried, and I hated it. I didn’t want her reaction to me to ever be negative. God, I was an idiot.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, sitting down across from her. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

  She sighed. “I can’t speak for anybody else, but I didn’t want you to get upset,” she said. “Plus, it really freaked me out and I just wanted to put it behind me.”

  “Someone sent you a possum.” I bit out the words from between clenched teeth. I could still barely believe it.

  “A dead possum in a gift box,” Vanessa clarified. “With an abusive note about how much of a whore I am, yeah. Hell of a way to start the day.”

  She was very calm. Too calm. She’d been so upset last night after reading the comments about her, but now I was the one who couldn’t control himself.

  “I want to punch something or someone,” I told her. I’m sure it was obvious from my clenched jaw and rigid posture, but I figured it was better to use words to express myself. “I really feel like punching someone would make me feel better.”

  Her reply was unexpectedly mild and her eyes were tired in a way I didn’t know how to interpret. “I didn’t figure you for the type who would solve problems with punching.”

  I frowned, taken aback by her reaction. “I’m not.” I sighed deeply. “I’m really not.”

  The last time I’d punched someone, I
’d been blackout drunk. If not for Ryan’s wicked good legal skills, I would have been charged with felony. I would have deserved a felony and the jail sentence that went with it. I’d been lucky the guy dropped the charges, although I wished I knew what the conflict had been about. Undoubtedly it had been stupid, but it would have been nice to know whether or not I actually started the fight. I’d certainly finished it.

  Vanessa patted my hand and, even though I knew it was mostly pity, I appreciated the closeness. I grabbed her hand in mine and held it. It disappeared in my massive, stupid paw. I was such a fucking mess. Even now, after everything, I was still a walking disaster.

  “Don’t worry,” she told me, squeezing my fingers with her tiny ones. “We’ve got a plan now, right? Starting in New Orleans.” Her smile was gentle, and I could feel my blood pressure returning to normal. “Tell me again about what we’re going to do.”

  * * *

  Bourbon street was nuts, as always. To my left, a woman wearing a bikini and leather chaps screamed obscenities at a particularly ambitious preacher. To my right, an eight-year-old boy tap-danced next to a man playing the saxophone while a pack of fraternity boys carried one of their fallen brethren out of a bar. Beads and trash littered the cobblestone street beneath my feet. At my side, Vanessa gazed wide-eyed at the crowd.

  “Are you sure this is an okay place for you to be?” she asked, eyeing a bar that sold frozen drinks in literal buckets. The drinks in them were an unnatural, almost glowing blue-green.

  I grinned at her. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Honestly, places like this are probably the least tempting locations for me.” I watched a bachelorette fall down in the street. She looked a bit green around the gills. Her friends pulled her back up and pointed to the next bar, clearly unready to admit defeat. The bachelorette nodded resolutely. I’m not sure why I ever thought drunkenness was a good look.

  We made our way down the street holding hands in the balmy, humid evening, careful to be as conspicuous as possible. It was just after the show, and I was stopped no fewer than five times to sign autographs and take photos. I took every opportunity to kiss Vanessa in public.

  She leaned into my kisses, threading her fingers through my hair. It felt a bit strange to know that while we were kissing, we were being observed from all angles, thanks to anonymous media tip-offs that Ryan had skillfully arranged for our benefit. The display might be fake, but my feelings for Vanessa definitely weren’t. When I was pulling Vanessa closer, squeezing her tiny waist, and drinking her in like I wanted to drown, it was hard to convince myself that this was anything less than totally real.

  26

  Vanessa

  I wished we could have stayed in New Orleans longer, but Miami was calling. After Miami, we’d head north for the second leg. So, before I even had a chance to absorb the city, it was back on the bus the next morning.

  I would definitely return to New Orleans. It lived up to all the hype, although I didn’t get to do even a fraction of the things I’d like. At least I got a Po’Boy and a stroll around the French Quarter. It all felt too short.

  Even the part where I was holding Ian’s hand. Ian and I had stayed up late being seen by the invisible gossip mongers. I could only imagine that we gave everyone the sense that we’d be going back to a shared hotel room, but we didn’t. We parted ways in the elevator, and I just wished it were otherwise. I’d gone to sleep regretting not inviting Ian to spend the night.

  The pictures appeared on the gossip sites the next day. The result was not exactly what I’d hoped. My heart sank as I read through the new abuse.

  Apparently, she’s making her way through the whole band. She’s probably spreading herpes.

  I wonder if Jason feels played by her?

  Who does this bitch think she is? Ian could do better than a homewrecker.

  God, what a slut.

  Look at that ridiculous skirt she’s wearing. Is she charging by the hour?

  Ian took one look at my expression that morning on the bus and wisely gave me some space. I was in no mood to talk to anyone. It took a good four or five hours before I was able to be sociable again.

  A text from an old college friend who lived in Miami snapped me out of my funk. We’d been planning to meet up since I learned that Miami was on the tour. I hadn’t seen her in years, and it was exciting to reconnect with her.

  Her life had taken a very different path from mine. She’d gotten married young and now had a couple of kids, a husband who managed a hardware store, and a job teaching second grade. Part of me envied the picture of domestic bliss she projected on Facebook and Instagram. She seemed very happy.

  Gemma Adams [2:45 p.m.]: Hey, are you really going to be here this afternoon? What’s your ETA?

  Vanessa Evans [2:50 p.m.]: Yes! We should get in around six. Do you still want to meet up for dinner at your place? I can’t wait to see you, Dan, and the kids.

  Gemma Adams [2:51 p.m.]: I can’t believe you’re on tour with Axial Tilt. That’s so insane.

  Vanessa Evans [2:55 p.m.]: It really is. I’m exhausted and we’re only on the third city. I can’t wait to do something normal.

  Gemma Adams [2:56 p.m.]: Screw normal. What’s it like on the tour bus? You’re right there with the band, aren’t you?

  Vanessa Evans [3:00 p.m.]: Yeah. I’m sitting across from them right now. I’m happy to report they’re all really nice. Also, don’t believe anything you read about me online right now.

  Gemma Adams [3:05 p.m.]: Send me a picture?

  I sent her one that we’d taken in front of the tour bus before getting on in Austin.

  Gemma Adams [3:06 p.m.]: You can’t send me a candid one?

  Vanessa Evans [3:10 p.m.]: A candid one? Like without them knowing?

  Gemma Adams [3:12 p.m.]: You won’t?

  Vanessa Evans [3:15 p.m.]: I’d hate it if someone took a candid picture of me.

  Gemma Adams [3:16 p.m.]: Oh. That’s lame. I just want something nobody else has.

  I didn’t really know how to interpret that. I wasn’t going to send her a private picture. I couldn’t. My contract was clear that all social media had to be approved by Don until after the tour was over.

  Vanessa Evans [3:20 p.m.]: Do you want to meet up around seven?

  Gemma Adams [3:21 p.m.]: Can I meet you at the bus? I want to meet the band. Especially Jason.

  Vanessa Evans [3:25 p.m.]: I think that violates my contract.

  Gemma Adams [3:26 p.m.]: Seriously?

  Vanessa Evans [3:30 p.m.]: Yeah, I mean they get mobbed constantly. It makes sense that they’d want to keep some privacy.

  Gemma Adams [3:31 p.m.]: But it’s just me! I’ve wanted to meet Jason Kane since high school. It’s my dream.

  Vanessa Evans [3:32 p.m.]: I’m sorry. I could get fired if I did that. I can get you two free tickets to the show tomorrow though!

  Gemma Adams [3:34 p.m.]: VIP tickets?

  Vanessa Evans [3:35 p.m.]: I think they’re regular tickets, but good seats!

  Gemma Adams [3:40 p.m.]: I won’t get to meet Jason. That’s lame.

  I didn’t understand Gemma’s attitude. We hadn’t seen each other in almost four years. I was definitely getting the feeling that she wanted to see Axial Tilt a lot more than she wanted to see me. I hoped that I was imagining it.

  Vanessa Evans [3:41 p.m.]: Do you still want to meet for dinner tonight? I really want to meet the kids.

  Gemma Adams [3:45 p.m.]: Eh. I’m actually going to be busy tonight. Can you just send the tickets to my house? Maybe after the show tomorrow you can take me backstage with you to meet Jason?

  Vanessa Evans [3:50 p.m.]: I thought we were going to hang out?

  Gemma Adams [3:55 p.m.]: I’m gonna’ be busy. You’ll send the tickets though, right?

  Vanessa Evans [3:56 p.m.]: I’ll have them left at will-call for you. I can’t have them delivered. I was gonna’ bring them myself.

  Gemma Adams [4:00 p.m.]: Seriously? Ugh. Fine.

  V
anessa Evans [4:05 p.m.]: I don’t understand, Gemma. I though you wanted to hang out. It feels like all you want to do is meet Jason Kane.

  Gemma Adams [4:10 p.m.]: Is that so wrong? You managed to fuck him, but apparently you aren’t willing to share. Can you at least get me six tickets instead of two? It’s the least you can do.

  My breath hissed out of me so angrily that everyone on the bus turned to stare at me. I turned my hissing into a cough, but it was pretty unconvincing. My conversation with Gemma dried up after that and I sunk deeper into my bad mood.

  At least I was finding out who my real friends were, and Gemma manifestly wasn’t one of them. So, why didn’t that knowledge comfort me at all?

  Maybe because being alone sucked. I’d thought for a long time that I would have to be alone. I thought that my injury, my trauma, my personality, and the fact that I’d lost Sam meant I would be alone. Always. This wasn’t how I expected to be alone, but I wasn’t surprised to find that I was right.

  27

  Ian

  We were all very happy to get off the bus that night. Tensions were beginning to rise. Miami is an incredibly long way from New Orleans. Twelve hours. Twelve endlessly long hours on a bus with the same small group of people. I could only speak for myself, but I was very, very done with being on a damn bus.

  Vanessa told me her plans with her friend fell through. She’d been frowning all afternoon, talking to Rosie and getting close to her, which made me happy, but wearing an expression that didn’t. As much as I wanted her and Rosie to be friends, there was obviously something amiss. Clearly, something had happened there that changed her from optimistic and excited to sulking and reserved. Wanting to banish her bad mood, I managed to pull some strings and get us tickets to a Miami Marlins game. I hoped she liked baseball. And surprises.