The Way Back Home (6 page)

“P
OST
-VMA
S IN
da limo!” I shout, holding up my iPhone to get a quick video of the whole Open Highway team. Turns out winning really did boost my spirits.

“I can't wait to text this to your mom,” Bonnie says as we pull into In-N-Out Burger and she takes a picture of the neon sign. “She always goes on about me eating this garbage. It'll kill her.”

“Oh, let's take a selfie then,” I say, leaning over. “Really rub it in!”

“And get that Moonman in here!” Bonnie says, holding my award up between us.

Like I imagine most kids do after their prom, we all file out of the limousine dressed to the nines and make our way across the parking lot to the greasiest and yummiest fast food joint on the planet. Once we're inside, my bodyguards stay close as people scream and stand up from their tables, their camera phones already held up high. I feel like a jerk when our group heads straight for the counter and the restaurant manager asks waiting customers to scoot over for my entourage.

“Hi, may I please have a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry shake?” I ask the guy taking my order. He looks a little flustered and it's super cute. “And then whatever all these people behind me want, too. I'll cover it.”

“So the people, like, in tuxes and whatever?” the cashier asks, confused.

“No,” I say, scooting over to gesture to all the people we cut in line. “Well, yes, but also,
all
these people. Anybody behind me right now. I'm buying their dinner.”

“Hell, yeah!” some dude shouts, giving his buddy a high five. “That's what I'm talking about!”

Troy takes care of settling the bill, so while we wait for our food, I walk around the restaurant, taking pictures with fans and signing a few napkins. It's nice to have this mini-celebration, especially since I'm missing out on a ton of fun VMA after parties. I have a show in Toronto tomorrow night, and we have to get to the airport.

“Number thirty-nine,” the cashier calls. I look over and see greasy bags appearing on the counter and know it's time to roll.

“I'll grab ours,” Bonnie says. “You go ahead.”

I wave to a few fans as I make my way out of the restaurant with my bodyguards and am a little surprised when I see Dan and Anita in a heated argument near the limo. They completely stop talking when they see me, so I give them space and climb in, not in the mood for drama anyway.

One by one, the rest of our group trickles into the car, and we start chowing down on burgers and fries, the party atmosphere still in full effect. The radio is blasting, and everybody is talking about their favorite acts of the night (conspicuously leaving out the Kayelee Ford spectacle, which I appreciate), but after a while, I start to wonder why we aren't back on the road.

“What's taking so long?” I ask no one in particular.

“I don't know, but I need some air,” Bonnie says. I crack my window, and she does the same on her side. That's when we hear the shouting.

“This is ridiculous!” Dan yells.

“Uh-oh,” I say. “That doesn't sound good.”

Somebody lowers the music in the limo and everybody, including myself, cranes their neck to see. It looks like Dan is arguing with Troy now, while Anita is on her phone nearby. She holds a hand to her other ear to block out the guys and looks as furious as I've ever seen her.

“What in the world's going on?” I ask.

Bonnie shushes me, leaning toward the open window.

“They signed a contract!” Dan booms.

Troy responds quietly, but Dan can't be pacified.

“Throat nodules?” he explodes. His normally pinkish face is as red as a tomato, and he rips off his bow tie, looking like he's going to use it to strangle my manager. “You tell those momma's boys spoiled-rotten little brats that they're finished. They've been completely unprofessional this whole tour, and I'll make sure their label and every other label in Nashville knows it.”

Troy nods, looking thoroughly whipped, the epitome of the old saying “Don't shoot the messenger.”

“Right, but in the meantime,” he replies calmly, “we've got a show in Toronto tomorrow, and we don't have an opening act. We have to find somebody fast.”

“This is such bull,” Dan mutters, pacing the parking lot.

Everyone exchanges looks, but no one says a word. I feel like I'm in the eye of the storm right now.

“Okay, what about Sugar and Sukey?” Troy finally suggests. “They're talented, and we know they're professional. You can keep it in the label.”

“I need them recording,” Dan says. “They're not ready to launch.”

“Okay, then what about Dust on the Dash?”

“We can't afford them,” Anita cuts in as she ends her phone call. “Greedy little punks.”

As they go back and forth with names of possible replacement acts, I sit back in my seat, stunned that this is all going down the night before my next show… in another country!

“Don't worry, Bird,” Bonnie says, patting my knee. “This stuff happens all the time. There's a slew of up-and-comers who'll gladly step in.”

“By tomorrow?” I ask dubiously.

“They may not stick, but somebody's going to say yes.”

“Bonnie, the show's in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Bird, honey, trust me,” she says. “Wouldn't you have hopped on a plane?”

I take a sip of my shake and consider her question. Yep. I definitely would've dropped everything to open for Jolene Taylor last year. And actually, that's kind of what I did.

“Who was opening for you, anyway?” Bonnie asks.

“These completely annoying guys called the Hicks from Thirty-Six,” I reply. “Their music's not terrible, but their set has run long at least three times and they party nonstop. Dylan hates the lead singer.”

“Well, then maybe it's a blessing in disguise.”

“Bird,” Troy says, opening the door.

“I heard,” I say as he gets in.

“We're going to figure something out,” he assures me.

Dan and Anita don't say anything as they take their seats. It's a considerably more somber group than the one that arrived half an hour earlier. When the limo starts rolling again, most of us turn to our phones, checking Twitter and Instagram and basically doing anything but talking about the problem at hand.

“Somebody's popular tonight,” Bonnie finally says.

“Sorry!” I say, turning my phone on silent. It's been beeping nonstop with notifications and message alerts. “It's just a bunch of congratulations texts and stuff.”

Bonnie leans over and reads from my screen. “Your momma, Jacob, Stella, Adam… Hey, why don't you call him?”

“I don't know,” I say. “I think it'd be weird to return a text with a phone call.”

“No, why don't you call him to
open
for you?”

I gasp. She's right. That's a perfect solution.

“Isn't that his single on the radio right now?”

I hush a few people talking near me and turn up the radio again. Adam's deep voice fills the speakers, and I feel my stomach flip as he belts out his country rock anthem “Make Her Mine.”

Troy's date says, “That guy is really cute and his song is, like, kind of sexy. The girl is totally stonewalling him, but he's going to do whatever it takes to make her his girlfriend. So romantic.”

“Who's that?” Dan asks, leaning toward us. “Who's that you're talking about?”

“Um, Jacob's best friend,” I say. “Adam Dean. He used to tour on the same circuit we did growing up. Now he's signed with a label and doing really well.”

“Adam Dean,” Dan says thoughtfully to Anita. “Know him?”

“Of course I know him,” Anita says. “This is his first single, but he already has a big fan base. The ladies love him.”

I feel myself blush, remembering how crazy I was over Adam, as my team talks about him like a commodity rather than a person. I know it would be an amazing opportunity for him, but if he said yes, it could end up being painfully awkward, considering how we almost sort of dated… and he broke my heart.

“I know this song,” Dan says as it fills the car. “It charted.”

“In the first week,” Anita adds.

“It's a great song,” Troy says. “And he's a writer, too.”

Yeah, he wrote this in my living room last Christmas
.

“You think he'd be a good fit for the tour?” Dan asks.

I roll my eyes, remembering back to that day in the studio when I suggested that Dan use Adam on my album. Dan said he only wanted pros, but here he is considering Adam for my tour when he had the chance back then to sign him to our label. I could speak up now I guess, but he's accused me of using my fame to help my friends make it before. This time, I'm hoping he'll see Adam's talent for himself.

Troy looks up from his phone, where he's been Googling Adam, and says, “I think he'd be great. Same fan demographic, good-lookin' kid, and appears to have some good momentum. It's very short notice for anybody we reach out to, but since he's Bird's friend, maybe his people won't try to gouge us on the price like everyone else who knows we're in a bind.”

Everybody in the limousine looks my way.

“What do you think, Bird?” Dan asks.

I smile. “I think… I hope he doesn't steal the show.”

“G
UYS
! I'
M HOME
!”
I call from the bottom of the bus steps. Troy and I flew into Toronto so late that we just crashed in a hotel by the airport, but now that I'm meeting the tour in the parking lot of the Rogers Centre, I can't wait to dish with Stella.

Dylan's playing Black Ops on our Xbox and doesn't even look up at me when he says, “Oh, hey, congrats on the VMA.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes as I walk past him to my room. “Your text was so sweet.”

“I didn't send a text.”

“Oh, that's right.”

“Hey!” Stella says when she sees me. She takes off her headphones and swings her legs over the side of her bunk. “I was wondering what time you'd be back. Your dress for the VMAs was gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Stel,” I say, throwing my stuff on my bed.

She picks up the Moonman poking out of my purse and says, “Hello, handsome.”

I smile and rush behind her, closing the dividing door for some privacy. Then I turn around and quietly say, “If you think he's handsome, wait 'til you see who else I brought back to the tour.”

She looks at me quizzically, but I play coy. I grab my makeup bag and scoot closer to her. “Work your magic. I need to look cute, but not on purpose. You aren't going to believe what happened last night.”

There is a loud knock on the door of my tour bus. Suddenly my pulse picks up. “Bird?” my tour manager calls.

Stella immediately dives over the couch and looks through the blinds. “He's here,” she says in a whisper.

“Coming!” I take one more look at myself in the small mirror by the stairs, smooth a stray hair back, and breathe deep. Adam is here.

“It's just Adam,” Dylan says behind me. “Why all the fuss?”

I glance over my shoulder and can tell that he's being deliberately obtuse. He may not know every gritty detail, but he knows that Adam and I almost dated, he's seen me try on three different outfits this morning, and he had to have heard at least snippets of Stella and me wondering whether the spark will still be there. Dylan knows exactly why the fuss, but he's either messing with me or doesn't want to be involved. As usual, I ignore him.

“Adam!” I say as I open the door and step out into the bright day.

“Hey, stranger,” he says with a lopsided grin. He steps toward me, and before I know it, I am in a full-on embrace, almost giggling out loud when I think back to the butterflies I used to get every time I spotted him in the crowd at one of our shows:
Adam is here
.

“Thank you so much for filling in on such short notice,” I say as we pull away.

He smiles. “How could I refuse Lady Bird?”

I feel myself blush and then we just stare at each other, nearly the same height, his face sun-kissed and a little fuller than before, his green-brown eyes sparkling, his lips just as full and pink and kissable as ever. The expression on his face must mirror my own; we're one part happy to see each other and the other part in awe that we ended up back on the road together, full circle. I
know
Adam. Even if we haven't spent much time together lately, I know him like I know my own heart. This is like a dream.

“I'm so glad you're here,” I say.

“
I'm
so glad I'm here!” he replies.

Marco clears his throat, and I shake my head, snapping out of this semitrance. I remind myself that I already learned the hard way—
twice
—that business doesn't mix well with romance.
Be the boss, Bird. Be the boss.

“So what's the plan, Marco?” I say, clapping my hands and turning toward my tour manager. “These guys going to be ready to go tonight?”

“Adam's band is getting settled on the bus now,” he answers, diving right into the business particulars. “After we load in, the guys can have a few hours to play in the arena and get a feel for our stage. Might push your sound check a little if we need, but we'll play it by ear and see how it goes. That work?”

“Sounds good to me,” I say.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Adam says, offering his hand for a shake.

“And give me a call if you need anything at all,” Marco adds.

“Come on,” I say when I see a curtain move on the bus. “Dylan and Stella are dying to see you.”

We board my bus and the reunion is really fun. While Dylan and Adam exchange their standard bro hug, Stella slyly shoots me a look that asks,
Is he even hotter than I remember?
to which I reply with an adamant nod. Adam's brand of handsome is completely effortless. He's in a soft green T-shirt and dark jeans, his boots worn in and well traveled. His brown hair is shaggy as usual, and there's stubble across his jawline. As we all crash around the common space on the bus, he tells us about getting signed to his label and the promotion they've had him doing.

“I don't know why you keep thanking me for helping you out,” Adam says, turning to me. “My manager was looking for me to open for a big act next summer. As far as I'm concerned, I'm on the Bird Barrett Fast Track to Success.”

“Me too,” Stella says.

“Me three,” Dylan says. “I probably don't thank you enough for that actually, Bird.”

“Oh, please,” I say. “None of you would be here if you weren't talented. I just wish I could've helped Jacob out, too.”

“Are you kidding?” Adam asks. “Trust me, you've helped Jacob out
a lot
.”

“How?”

“Every time I visited him at UCLA last year, whether he took me to a party or we met a girl on the beach, he'd casually bring up that he's Bird Barrett's big brother.”

“Ew!” I say. “Did that work?”

Adam shares a knowing grin with Dylan and says, “Let's just say the guy was popular.”

Stella guffaws.

I shudder. “That's disgusting.”

“He's a changed man now, though,” Adam continues. “Ashlynn's got him whipped so hard.”

“You mean ‘Infinity' girl?” Dylan asks.

“‘Infinity!'” we all quote, laughing.

Adam looks at his phone and stands up. “Well, I'd love to hang out and catch up a little longer, but some big-shot celebrity called me up and changed my life yesterday, so now I have to rehearse.” He grins at me, and I'm reminded of how easy it is to fall back into sync with Adam. “First show tonight. I don't want to blow it. I hear the headliner has high expectations.”

“Nah, you can relax,” I say with a smile. “She only expects perfection.”

He laughs. “Oh, is that all?”

“You'll be fine. But you should grab a power nap so you look fresh and rested,” I say. “Jacob said Ashlynn and all her friends
love
you.”

A deep blush creeps up Adam's neck. “Stop.”

“Seriously,” I continue, enjoying a chance to tease Adam. “He said they're all like, ‘O-M-G, Adam Dean is the hottest guy on the entire freaking planet. I want to make him mine! Me too! I die!'”

Dylan and Stella are rolling as Adam heads for the door, beet red. “I need to get over to my own bus so I can be around people who allow me a little dignity.”

We all laugh, and I follow him back outside.

“Hey, how many songs we going to write on this tour?” Adam asks once we're on the pavement. His lopsided grin is so cute that I feel my heart writing songs as we stand here. “I need you to help me with a few more hit singles.”

“Back atcha, mister,” I say, holding my hand over my eyes to block out the sun. “‘Worth Being in Love' had one foot in the grave before you saved it.”

“I guess we make a good team,” he says with an easy smile. And before he walks away he adds, “It's good to be back together again, Lady Bird.”

I nod and tell myself that the goose bumps I'm getting are due to a light breeze, but as I board my bus all I can think about is the charge I get every time I'm around Adam… and how after all this time, it's never gone away.

“I mean, he's so good,” I tell Stella as she does some last-minute stitches on a small tear in my opening outfit backstage. “Look at him. The fans are loving it.”

“You knew they would,” she says through a pin in her mouth. “I can't believe this ripped again.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she grumbles. “I told Amanda we need to totally recut this piece, but…” She shakes her head.

“I forgot how deep his voice is,” I say, my eyes glued to the stage. Adam has only been on tour with us for seven hours, and he looks as comfortable as if this stage were his. “Stella, I think I still like him.”

She ties off the thread and pulls the pins out of her mouth, facing me with a knowing grin. “You think?”

“He's just so cute!”

“Yeah, and it doesn't hurt that this song is about you.”

I look over at her, trying to feign ignorance.

“Oh, come on!” she says.
“I know a girl who's from every town,”
she sings. “That's you. And then,
I'm right there in her shadow, but always a step behind.
He just got signed, he hit the charts, he's the opener not the headliner, et cetera.”

“Yeah, but none of that had happened when he wrote this song,” I say as he sings.

She looks at me dubiously. “He still likes you. You still like him. Your fake breakup was just because you were so busy getting famous, but now you are—now you
both
are—so there's nothing keeping you apart.”

I chew on my lip and think about that.

“And it'd be so fun to double-date,” Stella singsongs as she tucks her sewing materials back into her “styling pouch,” or as Dylan and I mercilessly tease, her fanny pack. “All we have to do is convince the boys that they're in love with us. That shouldn't be too hard.”

I roll my eyes. “I've found the hard part isn't getting them, it's keeping them.” I feel my smile start to fade as I think back to how heartbroken I was when Adam called things off. Yeah, I still like him, but not enough to get hurt again.

“I've got to find Amanda,” Stella says. “See you in a few.”

I nod absentmindedly as she walks away, but I don't take my eyes off Adam. Any girl would think he's cute. I'm probably just feeling that normal instant attraction. After a week or two on tour, we'll be like old friends, the way we were able to be when I dated Kai… which leads me to wonder now if Adam is dating anybody. Jacob hasn't said anything, but why would he?

“Thanks, everybody! I'm Adam Dean, and I can't wait 'til y'all see the show my good friend Bird Barrett has in store for you,” he calls into the mic. “Are you ready?” The crowd cheers. “Oh, come on, Toronto. Are. You. Ready?”

The response is deafening.

“Good night, y'all. Thanks for being so kind.”

He waves to the crowd as he walks my way, and the minute he's standing in the wings, he throws his guitar around his back and picks me up, spinning me around so that I squeal. “That was amazing!” he shouts. He sets me back down and puts his hands on my shoulders. We are so close that I can see the sweat beads at his temples and the wet curls at the sides of his ears. “Thank you, Bird. That was a dream come true. Thank you so much.”