It didn’t take long for us to see that Sandy’s idea to do the Zen Garden song was a great one. I had suspected it was, but the second Max and Dave strummed the last note and I scanned my eyes over the audience, seeing that every single face aimed at the stage was full of awe, it was like everything slid into place. Including my smile, because for the millionth time over this band, I was both super excited and so proud. In fact, sometimes it was so overwhelming, it was hard to contain.
There was a tiny moment’s pause after the final note faded away before the crowd went nuts. Most of them were already on their feet, it being a festival venue without much seating, but fists were pumped as the cheering and whistling became almost deafening, even where we stood backstage in the wings. I could only imagine what it was like for Sandy who was down among the audience, taping the show.
“That was...” Dad began, shaking his head as he searched for the right word.
I glanced at him, amused, because he was almost never speechless. That he was now spoke to how impressed he was with the boys—another rarity for someone who’d been so long in the business.
“Inspired?” I offered as I turned from him and watched the two boys stand up from their chairs and take a bow. As the crowd continued on, the guys handed off their acoustic guitars to the backline techs who’d hurried out on stage the second they’d stood.
Dad glanced at me and nodded. “Yes. That. Inspired.”
“Are you putting that song in the set permanently?” Andres said from beside me. His arms were crossed over his chest and all the humor from earlier when he’d tickled me and taken my picture was gone. In fact, he sounded a little bit whiny, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was jealous of the crowd going crazy over Max and Dave.
By Dad’s slightly narrowed eyes, I could tell he saw it, too, but didn’t address it directly. Instead he took Andres’s question at face value, saying, “Maybe. This audience is obviously familiar with the song, based on the cheering after Dave played the first few notes, so let’s see what the buzz is after the show and then we’ll decide.”
Andres mumbled something unintelligible which Dad did address.
“Andy, what’s good for the band is good for the whole band. Now, I believe you have two more songs to play,” he nodded toward the stage. Max and Dave grabbed their electric guitars from the stands at the back of the stage as Darren and Graeme made their way from the wings on the other side, smiling as they took their spots.
Without another word, Andres joined them, his face breaking into a smile as soon as he was clear of the curtain.
“At least he remembers stage presence,” Dad said sardonically.
“It’s just a little ego,” I said. “He’s used to being the main guy. You can’t be surprised that he’s a bit jealous of Dave and Max eclipsing him out there.”
“No,” Dad said as Darren counted them into the next song and they began to play. He had to lean closer so I could hear him over the music. “I’m not surprised. He did promise to check his ego before he signed up, but the fact is that both Dave and Max can play circles around him. While he promised he’d be fine being an equal with these new guys, I don’t think he expected any of them to actually be better musicians than him. He’s clearly insecure about it, so no, I’m not surprised.”
As I looked out at them on the stage, playing their hearts out, I felt bad for Andres’s sudden insecurity. Then I laughed because, I, of all people, should not feel badly for a super-successful musician who was being whiny about being lapped by a couple of his bandmates. It’s not like either Max or Dave would hold it over him; they were seriously the two humblest musicians I’d ever met, so if Andy’s ego was bruised, he needed to get over it.
Dad must have heard me laugh because he looked over. “I could use a joke.”
“Nothing,” I said. “I was realizing how ridiculous it is for me to feel sorry for him that the other guys are showing him up. He needs to put on his big boy pants.”
I thought he would have laughed at that, but my father didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he looked at me for a long moment until I was sure he was going to say something about me and Andres. Had he somehow seen us making out back in the classroom earlier? I didn’t think so, but fidgeted under his gaze. Thankfully, he thought better of whatever it was he was going to say and instead turned away from me to watch the band.
They only had a couple more songs to play, but a few minutes later, fatigue overcame me like a lead blanket, weighing me down until I felt like lying down on the floor right there. Also, my feet were killing me after spending almost the whole day on them.
What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath and full body massage. Neither was in my immediate future, but there was a way to get off my feet.
I put my hand on my father’s arm to get his attention. “I’m going to head back to the bus,” I said. “I want to go over tomorrow’s itinerary while I have some quiet and am not a complete zombie. I’ll be back for teardown.”
Dad nodded. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? You look tired.”
“Are you saying that as my father or my employer?” I asked, looking at him sideways.
“Does it matter?” He pulled me into a side-hug. “I’m both of those things.”
“Yes it does matter,” I said. “I don’t want special treatment.”
He kissed my forehead. “Too bad.”
I smiled, but still said, “Answer my question.”
He let out a long breath. “Fine. As your father.”
“Well, thank you for your concern, but I don’t want to leave my employer short-handed.”
I thought he was going to argue with me and a tiny part of me wanted him to because in the end he did have final say, but he gave me a squeeze and let me go.
“All right,” he said. And when I looked at him, I knew I’d said the right thing because while he’d given me an easy way out of hours of work, in not taking it, I’d earned a look of pride from him that was worth so much more than an evening off.
“Go do your paperwork,” he said. “I’ll send Sandy to come get you when it’s time to start teardown.”
I was done reviewing the itinerary and had moved on to watching my favorite cat video (the one with the cat in a shark suit riding a Roomba) when Sandy used her own catlike skills to sneak up on me. “We have a problem,” she announced.
I nearly jumped out of my skin but to my credit, somehow managed not to scream. “You just made me regret giving you your own key to the bus,” I said. “Did you have to sneak up on me?”
“I didn’t sneak up on you,” she said in a low voice as she slid into the booth across from me. “Kiki’s in her bunk, so I was just being quiet. Anyway, can you focus please? As I said, we have a problem.”
I was about to make a joke, but her face told me whatever this problem was, it wasn’t about something silly, like how hard it was for her to not kiss band members or how to think of them as appliances. “What’s wrong?”
She nodded toward my laptop. “Go on Twitter and do a hashtag search for Wiretap.”
My stomach rolled over because social media issues had the potential to blow up so quickly before we could rein them in. “The poster again?” I asked.
“Old news,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just do it and look for photos.”
“I’m starting to really hate social media,” I said as I opened up a new tab and pulled up Twitter.
Sandy shrugged. “Without it, I wouldn’t be here and the band wouldn’t be selling out venues already.”
“I guess,” I said absently as I typed #wiretap into the Twitter search. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. I gasped and looked up at Sandy the second I saw it.
“That crazy girl,” she said, obviously not needing to verify that I’d found the right photo.
“I didn’t see anyone take the picture.” The one of the crazy fan kissing Andres back at the meet and greet from just a few hours ago. It was so perfectly timed that the shock of her attacking him hadn’t yet registered on Andres’s face. So perfectly timed that he looked like he was a willing participant in the kiss and not a victim. Ugh.
It wasn’t just hashtagged with #wiretap, either, but Andres’s name, #fangirl, #BestDayEver and #BoyBandKiss.
Sandy shrugged. “Well, someone took it. She must have been with a friend. Maybe they even planned it. I just hope this boybandkiss doesn’t become a thing.” She did air quotes around the phrase and then pulled the laptop around to look at the picture. When she did, she shook her head and let out a whispered curse.
I felt the same way.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Have you told my dad?
“No,” she said. “He sent me here to get you for teardown and I saw it for the first time on my way over just now. When I left, the guys were in the locker room showering up, so I have no idea who’s seen it.”
I closed the laptop and got up out of the booth. “I’d better go deal with this. You coming?”
She stayed where she was, reaching for her own laptop from the shelf, plugging her camera into the cord dangling out the side. “No. I think I need to get the video—or at least a part of it—cut and ready to post so we have something prepared to use for distraction.”
“Good call,” I said as I pulled out my phone and opened up the Twitter app, not wanting to have to take the laptop to show him. “Tony’s going to lose his mind.”
I slid out of the booth and stood up as I did the hashtag search for the band.
Then it was my turn to curse.
“What?” Sandy asked, looking up at me.
Anger bubbled up in me. Not indignant anger for a fan taking advantage of Andres or one of the other guys. This was different. This was personal.
“Nessa?”
I just shook my head as I swallowed, fighting to keep control and not scream until my lungs exploded.
It was a long moment of blood rushing through my ears before I could manage to say, my voice trembling but relatively calm, considering the circumstances, “It just got way, way worse.”
I held my phone out toward my best friend. Her eyes went wide as she read it before they darted up to me. “Day-um,” she drawled. “Not cool.”
A second later, she slid out of the booth, obviously changing her mind about coming back with me. “All right. Let’s go.”
I gave her a quizzical look. She shrugged. “Someone’s going to have to hold you back.”
I was way too mad to laugh. And a part of me knew she was only half-joking anyway, so I just nodded and then turned to lead her off the bus.