Read Backstage Pass: Behind the Music Online
Authors: Elizabeth Nelson
Backstage Pass: Behind the Music
Backstage Pass, Behind the Music
A
New Adult Romance
by Elizabeth Nelson
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2014 Elizabeth Nelson
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author and/or publisher. No part of this publication may be sold or hired, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the writer’s imagination and/or have been used fictitiously in such a fashion it is not meant to serve the reader as actual fact and should not be considered as actual fact. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
CONTENTS
Three pregnancy tests later, I was hugging my knees on the couch while Miranda fixed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I couldn’t tell her and she kept looking at me like she knew something was up.
When she brought our plates over and set them on the coffee table, she was too kind to pry, so she sat next to me and rubbed my back. “I’m really good at listening.”
I forced myself to eat a bite of the sandwich even though it tasted like sawdust in my mouth. I wanted to cry. How in the eff had I managed to get knocked up? The bread and jelly turned to glue at the back of my throat and I took a huge drink of water to wash it down. I couldn’t tell Miranda; she’d be forced to tell Jesse and that was the last thing I needed. I bit my lip and tried not to cry. I had to get her out of here.
I glanced over my shoulder and watched her eat, kindly trying to ignore my turmoil even though she knew something was horribly wrong. “I’m
just not sure I’m ready to talk about it.”
She
smiled. “It’s okay, hun.”
I blinke
d back the tears and she smoothed my hair back from my forehead. Miranda was sweet enough to stay with me through the evening, and then after we watched reruns of every sitcom we could find on the TV, I forced her to go. We stood at the front door, awkwardly debating how to leave our relationship.
“
Can I come by again?” she asked.
I smile
d and tried not to get all emotional over the fact that this might be the last time I could justify being with her. My hand found hers and I clutched it close to my chest. “I think it might be best for me if we take a break for a while.” Her face fell and I wanted to take the words back, only partly to soothe away her frown. I liked Miranda. A lot. She was someone I had fantasized about calling a sister.
But that wasn’t meant to be.
And keeping her around was only going to make it harder to get over Jesse. She yanked me tight to her and held me, squeezing until I could barely breathe. “I’m going to miss you. I was so happy when Jesse brought you home. He’s never been happier.”
And just like that, my tortured heart solidified my decision to let Miranda go. She hadn’t seen him wrapped around that other girl, looking far more than just “happy.”
I gave her a watery smile and she stepped away. I fought the tears and tried to remind myself that this was for the best. She hugged me one last time, then raced down the stairs before either of us could toss our resolve away and head back into the house for a giant bawl-fest on the couch.
“I’ll miss you,” I whispered
to no one as she closed her car door and drove away without looking. I saw her swipe her cheeks as I let my own tears stream down my face. Inside, my phone rang and I slowly closed the front door, hoping—idiotically—that I hadn’t just seen the last of Miranda.
I stumbled to the couch, my vision blurry with tears as I curled up in the corner and hugged a pillow to my chest. I moved and thought I caught a scent of Jesse’s cologne, buried in the cushions.
If I was smart, I’d burn this damn couch; too much had started here, happened here, ended here. My gaze pinballed around the room, landing on every spot where he’d stood, held me, kissed me. He was a ghost.
I sat up gasping for air, swiped my cell of the coffee table and raced
into my room. I needed to get out of here. I tugged on my running shoes and jammed my ear buds in my ears. Being pregnant wasn’t going to change my need to run. If anything, it made me need it more so I could sort out my thoughts and my future while I pounded the pavement.
I
ran for two miles, pushing myself with everything I had, Jessie’s ghost hot on my heels as I made my way through the park. I didn’t seem to be able to escape anywhere I went and I wondered if that was just a matter of time or if he’d be with me always. On the far side of the park, the one we never explored, I found a bench and parked myself. I kept thinking I could run away from what we had together, but now I wondered if I was going to have to face it instead and how long I could put it off. I felt like I was on a roller coaster in the dark—just when I think I know what was coming next, the track veers to the left, takes three loops, and heads back to the right, all before I can find my center. It’s just me alone in the car being tossed back and forth, back and forth. Most of the time I feel like I don’t even have the safety restraint on and the next loop is going to catapult me right off the ride.
A
fter far too many minutes, I jumped off the bench and took off running, this time at a manageable pace I knew I could keep up for at least a good five miles. All my life, I’d never given any thought to being pregnant. There was always too much on my calendar; first with school and then with avoiding my dad. My feet slowed and I jogged through the park and noticed a path I’d never taken before. It’s wasn’t very manicured and the trees above hadn’t been trimmed in ages, but something made me want to explore it and I left the pavement, slowing to a walk. The air was cool in the shade but there was something peaceful here too, something that calmed my chaotic thoughts. I breathed in the earthy, woody smells and listened to the rustling of the leaves. I hadn’t really thought about my dad since seeing him, other than that conversation I had with mom, and maybe it was my situation that made me wonder about him now. Strangely and unexpectedly, I wanted to talk to him.
I was sure I was
just looking for answers that would explain Jesse’s actions, but I knew dad owed me some also. I flipped open my cell phone and scrolled through the contacts. It was highly unlikely that he still had the same number, but without doing a lot of digging I didn’t really know where to start. I stared at his name for a long time, letting the emotions bubble up without judgment—mostly because I didn’t know which ones were really because of him and which ones were because of Jesse, or for that matter, which ones were because of the pregnancy.
In a moment of courage I push
ed the button and held the phone up to my ear, gripping it tighter with every ring.
“
Hello? Sasha?”
My brea
th stuck in my throat and I was instantly paralyzed at the sound of his voice, which was probably the only thing that kept me from hanging up. His breath on the other end of the line was neither soothing, nor as terrifying as I wanted it to be.
I muster
ed up another bit of courage. “Hey Daddy.”
2
Another missed call from Miranda. I felt like I was on the wrong time zone from everyone I loved. I glanced across the stage where Scout was finishing our mic check and I was surprised at the emotions coming up for me.
We’d
been on the road for 45 days straight and I’d loved every minute, but at the same time I was okay with it being over so we could all recharge a little bit. And I clearly had a ton of begging for forgiveness to do in person since everything I’d done from here hadn’t done a damn thing.
I pushed it away for now, desperate to focus on the job
at hand so I could finish.
That
was the part they never covered in Rolling Stone magazine—the sheer exhaustion. Good reviews and titties can only be a benefit for so long. We were lucky to get five hours of sleep a night, maybe seven when we were on the road between cities, but the days all blended together and the nights ceased to exist because we’d seen sunrise nearly every day.
To keep going, I t
urned my heart off from every emotion because there was no room for it unless I was writing songs or singing them. But when I take the stage, it poured out of me like I’d turned on the faucet—but sometimes, I think that drained me even more.
I didn’t want to think about what wa
s next for Sasha and me. I just couldn’t right now. There was no room here amid the excitement and rush of taking the stage every night and especially now when we were hours away from our last performance.
Ainsley sent us a case of boo
ze to celebrate and our record was shooting up the charts, so right now she was pretty happy with us. I rubbed my temple, begging my migraine to go away. They’d been plaguing me for days and I knew it was a combination of everything I’d put my body through.
Just one more night and our chance to blow these fans away so they wo
uldn’t forget us when we were back in the studio. Scout came over and slapped me on the shoulder. “What a ride man, what a ride. I never thought we’d be here.” He stared out across the stage, then grinned. “Everybody else headed back to the hotel to change and get some shut-eye before we come back here in two hours. What’s your plan?”
I t
ook a deep breath and let it slip out through my nose. “The hotel’s only a couple blocks away and maybe the walk will do me some good.”
As
I told Scout my plan, he narrowed his eyes. “Are you all right?”
I punched his arm. “O
f course. Just need to get my head straight for tonight.”
He stare
d at me, his gaze flickering to mine. “You’d tell me, right?”
I laugh
ed. “Probably not. But I promise not to do anything stupid.”
“We just got one more night,” he cautioned, like that was enough to undo every other
night.
I he
ld up my hand and we shook. “One more night.”
***
The flight attendant announced that we are starting to board, and she might as well be announcing that I’d literally lost my mind. Dad and I had talked for nearly an hour, and in some strange delusional fit of crazy, he’d offered to fly me out to Miami. And in an equally crazy fit, I’d agreed. So now I was boarding a plane to see the first man who’d broken my heart in an attempt to get over the last one who’d smashed it to pieces.
I really hope
d I wasn’t in for nine months of crazy thoughts, events, and relationships to this extreme. And I still wasn’t sure what I was looking for, either in him, or our relationship, or my future, or his answers.
What I really need
ed to do was let go of expectations, because no matter what I set for this trip, expectations were only going to leave me disappointed. And I thought that little girl lost inside me really wanted him to go back to being a daddy—that guy I depended on to be my rock, my refuge. If I was honest with myself, Jesse would never have had a chance as long as this stuff with Dad was still unresolved. Even with the amazing honest stepdad who’d filled that role, he’d only been a Band-Aid for my daddy issues, and while he’d been the best Band-Aid a girl could ever ask for, the wound had never gone away, just lay there festering and ready to surface—or poison me.
I tossed my backpack over one shoulder
, smoothed the wrinkles on my boarding pass and handed it over. The flight attendant smiled like she knew some secret and handed me back the first-class ticket. I’m sure I didn’t look very first-class worthy and she probably thought I was some gold digger on a rich man’s wallet.
Lord knows I saw enough of those growing up.
I settled into my seat, grateful the one next to me was empty and declined the stewardess’ offer of champagne and instead asked for a tomato juice.
“
Would you like something to eat?” she asked.
I smile
d. “I’d love a waffle if you have one.”
She h
anded me my tomato juice and patted my arm. “Coming right up.”
I try not to look shocked. Once upon a time
, this had been my life. Dad may not have been home much, though when he was we didn’t do anything in coach. I set my juice down and rung my hands, twisting my fingers into arthritic poses. I didn’t miss the money or the lifestyle. Not even one bit. I let my mind wander over memories I hadn’t unlocked for a decade with only a slight ping of worry that this wasn’t a good idea.
But in order to
release the expectations, I had to release my past too, because what we’d had didn’t exist once the trust was gone. Once he’d ripped away those rosy glasses of my childhood and revealed the scary reality of truth, there was no going back.
I guess I should
’ve consider myself lucky; I got to wear those rosy glasses a lot longer than other kids, even ones whose parents didn’t get divorced. They lived through war zones. My hand cupped my still-flat stomach and I closed my eyes as the memories washed over me, taking me one by one through the glory days of my past. At the end of each memory, I lifted it gently and sent it to float away on the constant moving river of my past. As each one tumbled out of sight I let go of the emotions attached to it, the ones that effectively bound me to my past as securely as chains. I wanted to be free of this.
Hot tears snuc
k out from under my closed lids and slid down my face and I let them run until they soaked the front of my shirt. Midflight, someone tucked a blanket around me and I clung to it like it could shield me and support me as I got to the point where the memories turned darker but I soldiered on. I soldiered on.