He smiles, but I can see the message lying beneath. He doesn’t want me to say anything about what just happened. Little does he know the truth will be told once Dean and I are alone.

“Yep,” I say, clipping the word and holding my hand out for my phone again. He gives it to me, and I look at Dean and Drew. “I’m headed back to the hotel. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you,” Drew says, giving Caleb a questioning look.

As we leave the bar, Drew sets a protective hand against my back. I glance down at my phone to see who called and realize the call connected. Caleb must have brushed his thumb against the screen when he picked it up. My heart drops.

It’s Latson.

“Hello?” I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?  Are you there?”

“You’re with Caleb.”

Shit. His words are a statement and his voice sounds flat. I say the first thing that comes to mind. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re thinking about a singing career.”

“No. I –”

“I’ll let you go.”

“No!  Wait.”

The line goes silent. “Latson?” No answer. “Latson?”

He’s gone.

~~~~

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s not taking my calls, either.”

I shift my gaze from the ceiling of my bunk to Dean. “You tried again?”

“Just now. I left another message.”

My face falls. If Latson won’t answer the phone for his brother, my chances are disappearing by the second. It’s been two days.

“He’ll come around,” Dean says. “He’s sulking right now, but he’ll snap out of it.”

“When?” I ask. “Because this is killing me.”

It is. I think it literally is. My stomach has been in knots ever since this whole thing happened. I have no appetite and sleeping is impossible. I keep thinking he’ll text or call, and I’ll be asleep and miss it. I’ve even been taking my phone with me into the bathroom when I shower.

“Hopefully he’ll get his head out of his ass by the time we get to Tampa,” Dean says. “Only a few more hours to go.”

If that happened, I would welcome it. With open arms, trumpets, and confetti cannons. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but it feels like I did.  All I want is the chance to explain what he overheard.

Dean’s phone rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin.  I get hopeful until I watch his expression twist. He sends the call to voice mail. “Caleb,” he says.

“Asshole.” I flop back against my pillow. “Is there any way we can rid of him?”

“I wish.” Dean pockets his phone. “You know I’m only putting up with him until the end of the tour.”

After I told Dean that Caleb tried to hit on me, he wasn’t pleased. He confided that he never planned to sign with Snare, not with Sacred Sin’s history. He’s only tolerating Caleb to get through this tour. He said he has to be nice to him to avoid burning bridges; labels and agents talk. His main goal is to gain exposure, then shop his music.

“Latson knows, right?  You told him?”

“In every message I’ve left.”

I sigh. I hate that he won’t talk to me. This is exactly like the time he overreacted at the hospital. It makes my heart hurt.

“I’ll let you know if he calls,” Dean says.

“Okay.”

I roll over on my side and try to settle into my bunk. It seems Beau has us traveling at warp speed to Florida; I can feel it in the shimmy of the bus. I contemplate waking Ariel to ask her if Latson acted this way when they were together, but I know she hasn’t been feeling well and she needs her sleep. There’s nothing left for me to do, other than close my eyes. Instead, I find myself staring at Oliver’s drawing. When did things get so complicated?

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “You up?”

I roll over and see Ariel. “Yeah. I thought you were sleeping.”

She shakes her head. “My mind is racing.”

“Same here.”

“Move over,” she says and nudges me.

I scoot to the side as Ariel sits down. She swings her legs up beside mine and lies back, so we’re lying side by side. She pulls the bunk curtain closed. “You’d think they’d make these beds bigger,” she says. “Rock stars get laid on their busses all the time.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Maybe.”

I elbow her and she giggles.

We’re quiet for a few moments before she says, “Things are stupid right now, aren’t they?”

I nod in agreement.

“I’m knocked up and you’re fighting with Gunnar. Neither should be happening.”

“Amen, sister.”

We stare at the ceiling. Although we’re both dealing with issues, hers more life-altering than mine, it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I’m sure she feels the same way.

“You know,” she breaks the silence, “true artists would take their feelings and spill them into song.”

I turn my head. “Like Taylor Swift?”

“Exactly.”

I guess I’m not a true artist. “I don’t feel like writing. All I want is a phone call.”

“I hear you.” She sighs. “All I want is to stop puking up everything I eat.”

“You’re having a girl,” I muse. “My mom said I was the worst pregnancy out of four. I have three older brothers.”

“You think?  I like the idea of having a girl. I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy.”

“I think you’d figure it out. Moms are resourceful like that.”

Ariel closes her eyes. “I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea. I mean, I can’t deny what my body is telling me, but it’s still surreal.” She looks at me. “How will I make it through nine months of this?  How will I push out a baby?  How?”

“With the help of powerful drugs.”

She rolls her eyes and sets her hand on her belly. “That doesn’t make me feel better for subjecting an innocent child to my poor parenting. I’m not sure I should have this baby.”

“Stop,” I chastise her. “The stork has never once delivered a baby and a handbook. If you decide to raise the little peanut, you’ll do just fine. I know it.”

“You think?” Ariel’s expression softens. “It’s hard to be logical when I’m so emotional.”

“I know you’ll do what’s right, whatever you decide.”

She sighs. “Thank you. That makes me feel better.”

I frown. “I wish Latson felt better.”

Ariel extends her hand to me, and I take it. She squeezes my fingers. “He’ll call.”

“Unless he doesn’t.” I can’t help but imagine something awful, like him taking PTA mom Natalie up on her carpool offer. I shudder.

“He’ll realize he overreacted.” Ariel gives me an encouraging smile.

“I hope you’re right,” I say.

When we arrive in Tampa, Ariel heads to her doctor appointment in a rented Mercedes, and I head up to my room without Roxanne. My body feels drained when it shouldn’t; I just spent the last nine hours on a bus. I need to pull myself together and focus on something other than Latson. We have a show tonight, and I need to concentrate.

When I get to my room, I open the door and fumble my way through with my suitcase, guitar, and bag. My exhausted eyes sweep the space like they always do and land on the desk opposite the two queen beds. A huge grin break across my face and relief instantly floods my body. I drop everything I’m carrying and skip over to a huge vase of roses sitting there. I bury my nose in the petals and inhale; there must be two dozen flowers here. Each one is a rich, velvety red and has a faux diamond set in the center. Eagerly, I find the card with my name on it and pry it open, excited and relieved to read Latson’s words.

As quickly as the high came, the low crushes me. The flowers aren’t from him.

My apologies for NOLA

Yours, Caleb

Chapter Twenty Five

“I really think we should add “Fairytale” between “The Short Life” and “Over-Exposed”. It would be a natural pace progression.”

Dean tries to talk me into performing solo as the four of us enter our dressing room. We just finished opening at the Tampa Bay Times Forum.