Outsider (43 page)

“You
don’t see what Sam’s doing,” Max asked, “using that contract as a weapon
against you? Making you change your look, forcing you to do things onstage
you’re not comfortable doing, using you as the cornerstone of a slur campaign. Every
time you say you
don’t
feel comfortable doing something, that’s where he
shifts his focus. How miserable can he make you before you give up?”

She’d
never thought of it that way, but Sam did go out of his way to make her hate
that contract. And whenever she baulked at his suggestions, he was the first to
point out that it was in that odious piece of paper she’d signed without even
reading and she
had
to comply.

“When
that didn’t make you leave, I guess he sought a different source of
intimidation—that damned tabloid—to make you hate this life, fame, being in the
spotlight.”

“He
wants me to leave that badly?”

Max
shook his head. “Actually, he thinks you’re fabulous. He’s only trying to make
me happy. I’m his only shot at getting the band to stay with our current record
label, so he’s dedicated to keeping me on his side. But seeing you like this,
seeing what they’ve done to you, how they’ve hurt you . . .” He
shook his head. “It has to stop. You’ve been through enough.”

She
wouldn’t argue with him on that, but the fact that Max didn’t want her to be a
part of Exodus End hurt far more than he could know. Still, it
was
his
band, his life, his music, his fans, and his career that she was encroaching
upon. She was outsider. And she’d always be an outsider.

“If
you wanted me to leave, all you had to do was say so,” she said.

“I
don’t want you to leave.”

“But
you said—”

“I
didn’t know you then, Reagan. I didn’t realize how forcing my hand would affect
you or everyone around you. I’m going to tell Sam to call off his dogs.”

“I
think it’s too late,” she said. “Trey asked me to marry him because of this
mess!”

“That
isn’t why I asked you,” Trey said, sliding into the booth beside her and holding
her trembling hand.

Dare
stood next to Trey and shook his head at Max. “That was a pretty shitty thing
to do to her.”

They’d
been eavesdropping? Not that she was surprised. It was entirely too easy to do
in such close quarters.

“I
didn’t even realize Sam was doing that to you until just now. I wish I had
figured out that he was involved days ago,” Max said.

“Days
ago? Don’t you mean
weeks
ago?” Reagan asked. Sam had been making her
life hell from the beginning.

“He
took it too far when he involved the press. I didn’t realize he was responsible
until Steve mentioned Tradespar West.”

“How
are they involved?” Dare asked.

“They
own the tabloid.”

Reagan
turned her head to watch Dare’s profile. She couldn’t tell if he was mad or
concerned about the connection. He didn’t seem surprised, though.

“Could
it be a coincidence?” Dare asked.

Max
shook his head. “Doubtful. Just like it’s not a coincidence that the head
editor of the
American Inquirer
is Bianca.”

Dare
gaped at him. So it
was
possible to shock Dare Mills.

Dare
eventually collected himself to speak. “I know you don’t want to hear that
Steve is right—”

“Then
don’t say it. I’ll talk to Sam when we get to Atlanta. I think he’s trying to
get Baroquen to do a surprise opening number.”

“Oh,
Steve is going to love that,” Reagan said. She knew how pissed he’d been when
Sam had told him his buddy Zach’s band was being replaced on the European leg
of the tour. Hell, at this rate, Reagan might be replaced by then. Or merely
discarded.

“Steve
doesn’t know what’s best for the band,” Max said. “He only knows what’s best
for himself.”

“Am
I
what’s best for the band?” Reagan asked.

“For
now,” Max said. He slid out of the booth and walked to the lounge at the back
of the bus.

For
now
. As those two
words sank in, Reagan straightened. This situation wasn’t going to continue for
the rest of her life. She wasn’t going to play rhythm guitar for Exodus End
forever. She wasn’t always going to be the focus of their fan’s adulation and
criticism. She wouldn’t stand in the spotlight next to these wonderfully
talented megastars for all eternity. She got all that. For the first time she
truly understood what that meant. What she didn’t get was why she felt so
relieved at the realization. This situation was temporary. Her shitty
contract—temporary. Her sudden drop into infamy—also temporary. She could
survive the negative publicity. It too would end. Shit. This opportunity was
already getting away from her. She needed to take advantage of her good fortune
and stop moping around feeling sorry for herself. She’d never been that kind of
woman before. How had fame changed her so much in such a short space of time?

“What
the fuck is wrong with me?”

“You
look perfect from where I’m sitting,” Trey said.

She
cupped his face between her hands and kissed him because he was a total sweetheart.
“I’m such an idiot. I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

“What?”

“I’ve
been trying so hard to fit in when what I should have been doing was trying to
stand out.”

“Finally
she takes my advice.” Dare shook his head and rolled his eyes at her.

“You
didn’t . . .” Her face went slack as she recalled snippets of
advice and encouragement that Dare had offered her from day one. He
had
encouraged her to be herself all along. “Know it all.”

“He
is a smug bastard, isn’t he?” Trey got a slap across the back of his neck for
his barb.

Dare
took Max’s vacated seat across from them. “This isn’t my first rodeo, kid.”

“You
ride bulls now?” Trey asked.

“Nope.
I just take them by the horns and wrestle them to the ground.”

“I
always thought you were more of a go-with-the-flow kind of guy,” Reagan said.

“Usually.”
Dare nodded agreeably. “But if I see something I want, I refuse to back down.”

“Smug
and stubborn,” Trey said.

“Tenacious,”
Dare corrected.

“Same
difference,” Trey said.

“Not
really,” Reagan said. “Stubbornness is annoying, but tenacity is admirable.”

“And
it is my goal in life to be admired by Reagan,” Dare said, his smile brightening
his entire face.

Sometimes
Reagan could overlook how damned gorgeous the man was and think of him
platonically, but when he smiled like that, she couldn’t help but feel giddy.

“Hey,”
Trey said, poking his brother’s hand. “No flirting.”

“I’m
not flirting,” Dare said. “The woman is going to be my sister by marriage in a
couple weeks.”

“I
always wanted a hunky older brother,” she said with a grin.

“No
flirting!” Trey insisted.

Reagan’s
future was racing toward her at light speed. What if she took a wrong turn and
spun completely out of control?

“I
can’t believe you’re so selfish,” Steve said, stomping out of the lounge.
“Everything is all about Max. Just because you’re our vocalist doesn’t make you
our god.”

“Just
because you’re our drummer doesn’t mean you have to bang everything that will
let you,” Logan called after him.

“Not
the time for lame jokes, Justa Bassist,” Steve snarled. He stomped around a bit
and then yanked a bottle of fire whiskey from a cabinet.

“A
little early to be drowning your demons, isn’t it?” Dare asked.

“Fuck
off,” Steve spat. He took his bottle to his bunk and jerked the curtain closed.

Max
exited the lounge with Butch trailing him. “I told you I didn’t know Sam would
take it that far,” Max said to Steve’s curtain. “You always blow everything out
of proportion.”

“And
you are always forgiven for every shit thing you do to people.”

Max
glanced at Dare, and Reagan wondered if he was thinking about how he’d gotten
the woman Dare loved pregnant all those years ago. Or were there other things
he’d done that Dare had forgiven? Even though Reagan had temporarily taken over
part of Max’s position in the band, she felt she knew him the least of Exodus
End’s members.

“I’m
going to make this right,” Max said.

“How?”
Steve asked. “What’s done is done. You fucked up, but as usual someone else
suffers the consequences.” The whiskey bottle glugged behind the closed
curtain.

“I
guess I’m not as perfect as you are.”

“Or
as gay,” Logan said from the doorway of the lounge.

“Logan,
don’t make me get up and beat your ass,” Steve threatened.

“Hey,
I didn’t even know you
liked
me liked me until I read that tabloid
article.”

“If
that tabloid has a low circulation,” Butch said, staring down at his clipboard
as if it had the answer to all life’s questions, “how come every concert-goer
in both Albuquerque and Phoenix had a copy?”

Dare
turned in his seat to look at Butch. “How did you get a copy? It’s not like you
go out and buy little-known tabloids on a regular basis.”

“A
member of the crew gave it to me,” Butch said. “T-bone or Big Mike or maybe it
was Little Mike.” Butch shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

“How
did they get it?” Dare asked.

“I
don’t know. You’ll have to ask them.”

“That
is weird,” Reagan said. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t questioned the spread of
that story earlier. No one had bothered them much in New York, not even the
press. She’d assumed it was because New Yorkers had more important worries than
her over-used cooch, but maybe they just didn’t know about it. Her father had
known, though. And he never read tabloids.

She
pulled her phone out of her pocket, unblocked her dad’s number, and chanced
sending him a text. She was still too chicken shit to talk to him, and she knew
he hated text messaging, but maybe he’d answer this one.

How
did you get a copy of that tabloid?

She
didn’t expect him to answer at all, so was surprised when her phone dinged with
a response almost immediately.

You
sent me a copy in the mail.

Why
in the fuck would she send him a copy?

Are
you sure?

It
had your return address on it.

Where
was it postmarked?

His
answer didn’t come for a long tense moment.

“Who
are you texting?” Trey asked close to her ear. “Ethan?”

“My
dad. He says I sent him a copy of the tabloid in the mail.”

“Why
the fuck would you send him a copy?” Trey asked.

“Exactly.”

Her
phone dinged with her father’s reply.
Postmarked in Seattle. Are you going
to talk to me now? You won’t answer my calls.

Technically,
she’d blocked his calls.

You
don’t want to talk, Dad. You want to yell. I’m upset enough about this without
you raking me over the coals.

Someone
needs to keep you in check. You’re completely out of control.

Bye.

She
didn’t read his response. Whatever he had to say was something she didn’t want
to hear. “It was postmarked in Seattle.”

“Isn’t
that where Toni is from?” Dare asked.

A
huge knot of rage formed in the pit of Reagan’s belly. Had Toni proved her a
sucker? Was she actually responsible for all this mess and hiding behind a web
of lies about Susan/Tamara?

“Toni
was on tour with us then,” Dare said. “She couldn’t have mailed it from
Seattle.”

“She
went home for a couple of days,” Reagan reminded him. “She could have mailed it
to him then. Toni!” she called, sliding out of the booth and heading for the
lounge. She found Toni making out with Logan on the sectional at the back of
the bus. Reagan didn’t bother to wait for them to finish before she asked, “Did
you mail a copy of that fucking tabloid to my father?”

Toni
pulled her mouth away from Logan’s. Her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed, and
her cheeks flushed. “What? How can you even ask me that?”

“I
guess it could have been Logan. He also went to Seattle.” Reagan crossed her
arms over her chest and leaned back against whoever had come to stand behind
her. She’d assumed it was Trey, but when her support took a step back, she
glanced over her shoulder to find she’d been pressing her ass into Max’s hip.
She was surprised he was the one who’d followed her.

“Paranoid
much?” Logan asked. “Of course neither of us would mail a tabloid to your
father. I didn’t even know you had a father.”

“He
lives in Arkansas,” Toni supplied. “A band teacher at a high school.”