Chapter Eleven #2
Daisy gasped. NYX 5 was the dream. “When?”
“End of May until… next spring.” His fingers threaded through hers. “World tour.”
Silence stretched. Five months had been hard enough. What would twelve do?
She swallowed the ache and smiled through the sting in her eyes. “That’s… incredible.”
She leaned over and kissed him hard, hoping he couldn’t see past the facade.
She was elated for him and knew that opening a world tour for that caliber of a band would only propel them further into the spotlight, putting TKC at the forefront.
But a small, selfish part of her didn’t want him to go.
She didn’t want to share him with the rest of the world.
“Come with me,” he said—not a question but a plea.
“What?”
“Come with me.”
She searched his face. He wasn’t kidding. “I got into Parsons,” she blurted.
His grin cracked wide. “I’m so proud of you.”
Tears returned. He wiped them with his thumbs and pressed his forehead to hers. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“So much,” she said, pulling the covers to her chin.
“I want to go. I don’t know how I’ll handle a year without you.
But I’m going to college. It matters to me.
And while some people would find the idea of traveling the world with their rock-star boyfriend much more appealing than studying for finals, I’m not like most people.
And my dad—he’ll hate that I’m not pre-law, and he’ll hate that I’m choosing art school over his precious Stanford. ”
“You got into Stanford too?”
She nodded.
He tucked closer. “I love you because you’re not like most people.
You’d pick school over a tour. I get it, and I respect it.
I should’ve been clearer: I meant the summer.
Come for the summer. In the fall, we head to Europe, and you start school.
It won’t be easy. But it’s us, Daisy.” He set his hand over her heart.
She set hers over his. “We’ll make it work. ”
“You’re right.”
“Aren’t I always?”
She laughed; he rolled and pinned her, grinning. “So what do you say? This summer: me, you, the road… plus a cramped, occasionally smelly tour bus.”
Daisy quickly kissed his lips and mumbled, “Yes.”
“What was that?”
“Yes,” she said a little louder.
“I still didn’t catch it.”
She squealed as he tickled. “YES!”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
They stayed up until dawn talking about their dreams and making promises to each other, which they both worried would be hard to keep. Life was a curveball, throwing itself at them in unexpected ways. It was fast and ever-changing; they simply hoped it wouldn’t strike them out.
When they had finally fallen back asleep, a sudden pounding at the door snapped them both awake. Daisy barely had time to cover up before the blur at the foot of the bed appeared into Harley—arms crossed, and her expression pinched with something that looked an awful lot like jealousy.
“Get up!”
“What the hell, Harley?” Jameson grabbed the comforter over them.
“I’ve been calling your cell,” she snapped. “If you answered your phone, I wouldn’t have to come up here.”
“It’s”—he glanced at the clock—“seven a.m. We don’t meet until noon.”
“Again, if you bothered to look at your phone, you’d see we’ve had a change in our schedule. Now, get up. The guys are already down in the lobby and the car to the radio station will be here any minute.”
“Radio?”
“Open slot. We took it. Move. Lobby. Five.”
She stormed out, door slamming.
Jameson dramatically flopped back, then sprang up and showered in record time.
“I’ll send a car over at four. Have fun with Devya today and be safe.” He kissed her hard, then sprinted out the door but not before yelling “I love you” over his shoulder.
The Parsons tour was everything. She loved the school, the people, the art program, the pulse of the city. She could see herself here for four years. There was just one problem:
Jameson wasn’t in New York.
He wasn’t anywhere. She’d assumed San Francisco would be his home base—that was the only reason Stanford had ever been on the table. Decisions loomed, and so did harder conversations with Jameson.
But she knew this much: they’d choose each other. Not out of clingy dependence, but because they were determined to make it work. If that meant giving up a dream that had only recently taken shape, she’d wrestle with that truth.
She thought long and hard about it as the car crossed the city to the venue.
Bundled in a plaid dress, heeled booties, and a heavy coat against the bitter cold she’d never known in the Bay, Daisy couldn’t help but feel giddy with the possibilities of living there.
She tried to suppress it; she really did.
She was afraid to let her hopes get too high.
“We are here, Miss Daniels.”
“Thank you,” Daisy said to the driver and jumped out of the car.
She was greeted by a man named Neil Joneses, Harley’s assistant.
The poor soul.
He escorted her backstage. The place buzzed—faces she didn’t know, people threading in and out with purpose. She eased through, shoulder to shoulder, until a hand landed on hers.
“My, my, my,” a voice drawled. “You must be my farewell gift.”
She turned. Ace Monroe.
Long gone was the shy girl that used to inhabit her body; it was now occupied by a girl who was two seconds away from biting the hand that touched her. “Unless your farewell gift is a kick in the balls, then no. I’m not.”
Ace stepped closer. “Feisty. Me likey.”
Daisy thought she might throw up in her mouth if he continued to talk, but as always, her hero came to the rescue.
“Chatting up my girl, Monroe?” Jameson’s voice slid in behind her. Ace stepped back, hands up.
“Shit, man. I didn’t know.”
“It’s cool,” Jameson said, clapping his back. “Unless it happens again.”
They laughed it off and Daisy was properly introduced to Ace. He apologized, swore he wouldn’t have tried if he’d known she was with Jameson. Daisy believed him. Mostly.
Like all of their shows, this one was electric.
A fierce, grateful farewell to a first tour that had throttled their career.
Daisy watched from the wings at Terminal 5—narrow, stacked three stories high—fascinated by the choreography of it all.
She had come to enjoy watching concerts from that angle.
She liked being backstage and was fascinated by the effort it took to put on a show.
There was a job for everything: lights, sound, stagehands running cues like blood to the brain.
After Ace’s last song, he pulled TKC back out, thanked them, and wished them the world. They took a final bow for the rowdy crowd and exited the stage. After an hour of photo ops and interviews, they all made their way back to Ace’s hotel suite for the after-party.
Bodies packed the room. Furniture shoved back to make a dance floor.
Dim lights. A DJ near the kitchen, spinning a mix of current hits.
Daisy spotted Erik Soriano, a few of Ace’s bandmates, and a sea of beautiful women—three of whom were practically draped over Ace and Jameson.
Ace basked. Jameson disengaged, found Daisy’s eyes, shrugged, and shouldered through to her.
“Jealous?” he teased, handing her a drink.
“Me? Never. Why would I be jealous of model-pretty girls hanging off my boyfriend?”
He bent to her ear. “Only you, Daisy.”
Goose bumps rose. “Only you.”
“Well, isn’t this precious,” came a flat voice.
Daisy guardedly rolled her eyes.
“Hi, Harley.”
Harley angled her body away from Daisy, attention fixed on Jameson. “Erik wants to speak with you. He’s over near the guest room.”
“Okay,” he said, kissing Daisy’s cheek before heading down the hall.
They stood in uncomfortable silence until Harley spoke. “You’ve been quite the champ this tour. Must’ve been hell being away so long. You’re so… trusting.” While her words were sympathetic, her tone reflected anything but as she sipped her champagne.
“He’s worth it,” Daisy said.
“Of course.” Her tone said na?ve. “Who wouldn’t stay for a hot lead singer about to make millions?”
Daisy refused the bait. “He’d be worth it if they were still playing at Bullets every week. This”—she swept a hand across the room—“doesn’t matter.”
Harley didn’t respond to her point; she instead sipped. “Too bad he’s leaving again. For even longer this go-around. Don’t worry—I’ll take good care of him.”
Daisy faced her, smiling just a little. “Didn’t you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“I’m tagging along for the NYX 5 tour.”
Harley narrowed her eyes. “That isn’t possible. Girlfriends aren’t allowed—”
“Actually,” Daisy said lightly, “Jameson cleared it with Erik.” She didn’t add the part about summer only. She was busy enjoying the way Harley’s expression pinched. “So it looks like you won’t be needing to take care of my boyfriend after all.”
Daisy’s body fluttered with satisfaction. She turned away from Harley and made her way to find Jameson. Petty? Maybe. But she wasn’t about to let the band’s blonde troll test her relationship, manager or not.
Daisy’s satisfaction carried her down the hall and to the guest bedroom door.
When she opened it, the room was empty. Turning to leave, she heard a muffled noise from the bathroom. The door was ajar.
At first, she felt relief. Jameson stood by the counter, looking devastatingly handsome.
Then her smile fell when he bent and snorted a line from the vanity.
Ace stepped up from the side of the tub and took his turn.
Daisy clapped a hand over her mouth, containing her gasp. She stepped back, careful, careful, and slipped out.
She left fast, only stopping to ask Lenny and Kyler to tell Jameson she was tired and heading out.
Back in the room, she tried to rationalize it but failed. She’d just watched her boyfriend do drugs. Not a little weed. The heavy kind. Her heart galloped. She curled into his sweatshirt, tightened the hood, slid under the covers, and stared into the sleepless night.
She thought about everything and about nothing.
She thought all the way until she heard the door open. Jameson slipped in and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You okay? Lenny and Ky said you called it a night.”
She stiffened.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Was it Harley? I swear nothing’s happened. I’d never let it, no matter how persistent she—”
That snapped her attention. Rage at Harley flared, then fell back under the larger ache. “What are you talking about? Has she tried something?”
He realized his mistake. “Daisy—calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. This night has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds and I honestly have no idea how to process it. Now tell me, what did she try?”
“Daisy…”
“Tell me!”
Jameson inched closer to her and grabbed her hand. “She tried to kiss me.”
Daisy ripped the hand he had just grabbed away and stood.
“When?”
“A few weeks ago. We were at this club in Nashville and she just came up and tried to lay one on me.”
Daisy remained silent and let him continue.
“I pulled away. Told her I’d never jeopardize my girlfriend’s trust. She blamed booze. That’s it. I swear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay. One more question.”
Jameson swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked up at her. “Go ahead.”
“Was this before or after you started doing cocaine?”
Jameson’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Are you or are you not doing coke?”
His head hung, and Daisy could almost feel the shame radiating off him. He replied matter-of-factly, “Yes.”
Frustrated tears sprang to her eyes and she sat down next to a defeated Jameson. “I saw you tonight, in the bathroom with Ace. I couldn’t believe it. You tell me everything—or I thought you did.”
“I do,” he said quickly. “Just not this. I haven’t done it a lot. Just a few times before tonight. It… helps.”
“It’s not good for you, Jameson. You don’t know what’s in it. It could be laced with anything.”
“I know. I swear this was the last time.”
“I don’t know if I believe you. It feels like you’re only saying that because you got caught. Do Lenny and Ky know?”
He shook his head.
“I’m done,” he said. “It was stupid. It’s not worth it—especially with the way you’re looking at me.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like your hero just let you down.”
She gripped the comforter. “That’s because he did.”
He swallowed. “Do you still love him? Can you forgive him for being so reckless?”
She waited, then placed her hand over his. “Yes… and yes. As long as you promise, Jameson—”
“I promise,” he said, fast and urgent, meaning it with everything he had.