“Text me when you’re finished,” he said. “Or if you need rescuing.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, more for personal assurance than for his benefit.
“I know you will. I have faith in your abilities.”
She hadn’t had anyone say something like that to her since her father had passed away. She wasn’t sure how sincerely Logan meant his words, but they gave her the fortitude to straighten her spine and head to the conference room with a confident smile on her face.
Her smile faltered when she entered the room and saw her mother and Susan with their heads together, talking in low tones, looking like they were plotting the crime of the century. At the far end of the room, Birdie was drawing rainbows on the dry erase board, her tongue protruding from between her lips as she concentrated on the curved lines.
Toni bumped into a chair, which drew everyone’s attention.
“There you are,” Mom said. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost.”
“. . . in your rock star’s bed.” Susan grinned.
She wished. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Toni pulled out her laptop and booted it up. She connected it to her small portable projector and lowered a screen from the ceiling. Birdie frowned at her as the screen slid down in front of the dry erase board before edging behind it to continue drawing rainbows.
“Birdie, come out of there. I need to use the screen.”
“I’m bored,” Birdie said, and Toni could hear the pout in her tone. “I wanna draw.”
“I have paper and pens in my bag. Draw on that until I’m done.”
Generally cooperative, Birdie did what she was told. Toni handed her bag to Birdie, and Birdie sat cross-legged in the corner, digging through the bag hunting for treasure.
“Why are you setting up for a presentation?” Susan asked. The derisive tone of her voice wasn’t lost on Toni.
“I wanted to show you what I’ve been working on so you have a better idea how the book is coming along.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Susan said.
Toni scrunched her brows together. She was at a complete loss.
“Then why are you here?”
“Your mother and I have been talking about the direction of the book,” Susan said. “We think it will sell more copies if—”
“Let’s see what Toni’s been working on first,” Mom interrupted.
Toni offered her mom a relieved smile and opened the first mocked-up page she’d created the night before. It was a table of contents.
“I’m sure some of these topics will change as I continue on tour with the band. The longer I’m with them, the more ideas I get. I’ll start with their history, the formation of the band in their own words. Dare saves band memorabilia. He said I can use reproductions in the book if I can secure the rights from the copyright holders.”
“Sounds expensive,” Mom said.
“According to him, it shouldn’t cost us anything. We’ll have to credit the photos to the photographer, but most of the photos were taken by friends and family. He doubts they’ll be interested in money.”
“Everyone is interested in money,” Susan said.
“A lot of people are just happy to help the people they love,” Toni said, trying not to glare at the woman.
“Yeah. Until money’s involved.”
It must be hard to go through life so bitter and jaded, Toni thought, but she moved on with her presentation. “There will also be sections on what goes on backstage.”
“Now we’re talking,” Susan said.
Toni ignored her and continued down what she’d worked out so far for the table of contents. “The crew. The fans. Promotional events. The tour bus. The private jet—which I haven’t seen yet. A huge section on concerts and a chapter on each band member. Each of those will vary depending on the band member. For instance, Logan is an open book and has tons of hobbies outside of music, so his chapter will look a lot different from Max’s because Max is very private and more focused on the fans. I’m really excited about the section on what it’s like to create and record new songs as a member of Exodus End. Dare says they’ll consider creating a song exclusive to the book. And let me track the entire process from brainstorming to writing to recording.”
“That sounds exciting,” Mom said, her eyes wide with wonder.
“That sounds dull,” Susan said as she pretended to stifle a yawn. “Where’s the real dirt on these guys? That’s what will sell books.”
“There’s no dirt,” Toni said. That was exactly what she didn’t want in this book. No dirt. Nothing that could potentially hurt a member of the band.
“There has to be dirt,” Susan said. “You’re around them twenty-four seven. You have to be privy to things more exciting than what they had for breakfast.”
“You’d be surprised how much preparation goes into getting them breakfast. Their tour runs like clockwork.”
“Which is boring,” Susan said. “This is all very boring.”
“I think the fans will love it,” Mom said.
“Oh, yeah, they’ll eat this shit up,” Susan said. “But we discussed this, Eloise. Remember? The fans are a niche market. And you want to sell this book to millions of people. To do that, you need dirt.”
“Exodus End has millions of fans,” Toni said. “It may be a niche market, but it’s a huge niche.”
Susan and her mother stared at each other for a long moment, as if communicating by telepathy.
“Before I saw this, I was convinced the book needed dirt to sell, but I think Toni is on to something here,” Mom said.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” Susan said. “Let me take over. I’ll create a book that will sell like wildfire.”
“This isn’t only about sales,” Toni said. “If we do a good job with this book, other bands will come to us to have their biographies written. If we publish a bunch of scandal, it might make us money now, but our chance at future projects will be obliterated. No one will trust us.”
“Publicity is publicity,” Susan said. “Even if it’s bad publicity. Actually, bad publicity gets more attention than good publicity. What are you more likely to recall: Steve Aimes cheating on his wife or Steve Aimes sending shoes to poor kids in Africa?”
“Steve sent shoes to poor kids in Africa?” Toni mused.
“See what I mean!” Susan said.
“Toni,” Birdie interrupted, tugging on Toni’s sleeve.
“Just a minute, Buttercup,” Toni said absently before continuing to plead her case. “Maybe this book isn’t about publicity.”
“Of course this book is about publicity,” Susan said. “That’s the only thing their manager wants out of it. He wants it to draw more attention to the band. And how better to do that than to get people’s attention with
dirt
?”
“Just because someone reads the book to get this so-called
dirt
you’re so fixated on, that doesn’t make it more likely that they’ll buy Exodus End’s music or go to their concerts, does it?” Toni had never argued with a nonfamily member before. She wasn’t sure why it was so much easier to stick up for her new friends than it was to stick up for herself, but she wasn’t backing down on this. She wasn’t writing the book to sell it to a bunch of nosy people who would snigger and ridicule the band members for their mistakes. She was writing this book to glorify a group of men—and one woman—who deserved to be recognized for their greatness.
“Toni!” Birdie said, yanking on Toni’s sleeve anxiously.
“I said just a minute, Birdie,” she snapped, prying fingers from her sleeve. “Can’t you entertain yourself for a few minutes?”
“She’s bleeding,” Mom said, jumping to her feet.
Toni looked down at Birdie, who had blood trickling out of one nostril, over her lip, and down her chin. “Oh God,” Toni said, forcing Birdie to tilt her head forward and catching the blood in her hand so it didn’t get all over the boldly patterned carpet. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Birdie said. “I just sneezed and blood came out.”
“Just a nose bleed,” Toni said. “Don’t panic.” She looked at her mom. “Is there a bathroom nearby?”
“Just down the hall,” Mom said. “Do you want me to take her?”
“I want Toni to do it!” Birdie wailed.
Mom bit her lip and nodded her go-ahead. Toni wondered if the reason Mom struggled to care for Birdie was partially her fault. Toni was always the one to jump in and fix Birdie’s tragedies. This situation was no different.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Toni promised.
“Can we look at the rest of your mocked-up manuscript pages while you’re gone?” Mom asked.
Toni was rather proud of those few pages, especially since Logan had approved of them.
“Sure. They’re in the folder labeled
manuscript pages
,” she said before steering Birdie out of the conference room and hunting down the nearest restroom.
“I think Mom liked your hard work,” Birdie said as Toni packed her nostril with toilet tissue to stem the flow of blood.
Toni smiled. “I think so too.” It felt great to have won her mom over to her side. And she was pretty sure Mom liked her ideas because they were sound, not because her flesh and blood had come up with them.
“That other lady is not nice to you.” Birdie gave her a comforting pat on the arm.
“I noticed.” Toni doubted anything would convince Susan that Toni knew what she was doing. She hoped that Mom didn’t head back to Seattle and immediately cave to the outspoken editor’s wishes. She liked to think that her mom was made of stronger stuff than that, but Susan was as persistent as she was opinionated.
“Are you coming home with us?” Birdie asked, her inquisitive brown eyes enlarged by her thick glasses.
A pang of guilt twisted Toni’s heart. She stroked Birdie’s cool cheek. “I still have work to do.”
“Mom said if I rode on the plane like a big girl, you’d come home.”
So that was how Mom had gotten Birdie on the plane. “I’ll come home in a few more weeks.”
“It’s too long.”
“I know it feels like a long time—”
Birdie shoved her away and stomped out of the bathroom. By the time Toni returned to the conference room, Birdie was already sitting cross-legged in the corner and writing bold angry words across a page. Probably things like
Toni is a jerk
and
I wish Susan was my sister
.
“I think we’ve seen all we need to see,” Mom said from the end of the conference table. The sample page Toni had made about band promotion was displayed on the screen at the front of the room. Susan was conspicuously absent. Thank God. “Continue with your vision for the book.”
Toni’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Is Susan in agreement?” She wasn’t sure why she cared. The woman’s opinions never meshed with Toni’s.
“Not exactly,” Mom said, “but let me worry about Susan. I’m impressed with how much you’ve accomplished already.”
“You are?” Mom didn’t hand out compliments regularly. Toni couldn’t help but smile.
“I am,” she said. Turning, she called out, “Birdie, how’s your nose?”
“It’s fine!” Birdie yelled. “Leave me alone.”
“She’s mad,” Toni said as she moved to the table to shut down her laptop and disconnect the projector, allowing it to cool down so she could stow it away again.
“Why is she mad?”
“Someone told her that if she rode on the plane, I’d come home.”
Mom bit her lip and rubbed at an eyebrow with one finger. “I did tell her that. I figured you’d be more useful at home than here. I was wrong. We’ll figure something out to make this work.”
“Are you coming with us to the track?” Logan would be almost as happy as she was that she was staying and completing the project as she envisioned it.
Mom laughed. “To watch your boyfriend play with his bike?” She shook her head. “I think I’ll pass. I can get some work done before we have to catch our plane.”
“Is it okay with you that Birdie comes with us?”
“Of course.”
“Birdie,” Toni called to her sister, who was sulking in the corner, “are you too mad at me to go watch Logan ride his dirt bike?”
“Yes!” Birdie said.
“Logan will be sad. He wanted you to see him do a trick. I thought you were his friend.”
It was probably wrong of her to manipulate her sister, but Birdie would get over her anger quickly if she was having fun. And who could be around Logan for more than ten seconds without having fun?
“I’ll go,” Birdie said. “But I’m not sitting by you.”
“Don’t be cross with Toni,” Mom said as she rose from her chair. “I’m the one who told you she was coming home.”
“I’m not sitting by you either!”
“This should make our flight home interesting,” Mom said under her breath as she walked toward the door. “Make sure you’re back here before three.”
Toni nodded and sent a text to Logan.
Meeting is over. Went well. I’m bringing my equipment and my sister to our room. You might want to hide the toys.
His reply came a few seconds later.
OK. Where am I supposed to hide them all?
IDK! Use your imagination.
I’ll meet you in the hallway. Just knock.
He was right; it probably wasn’t the best idea to allow Birdie into their suite. No telling what she might see. Still upset that she’d been lied to, Birdie followed begrudgingly. Her attitude changed entirely when Toni knocked on the suite door and Logan appeared with two long-stemmed white roses.
“For the pretty ladies,” he said.
He offered a flower to Birdie first, who lifted the blossom to her nose and sniffed. Toni was too busy ogling the gorgeous spectacle of Logan’s ass in his thin red race pants to give a fig about a flower.
“Thank you!” Birdie said. “It doesn’t smell good.”
“It stinks?” Logan asked, smelling the rose he was still holding.
“No.” Birdie laughed. “I mean you can’t smell it.”
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Logan said, tossing his rose on the floor.
“But I love it!” Birdie rescued the discarded flower from the hall carpet as Toni nudged her way into the suite and dropped off her bags.
While Logan occupied Birdie in “safe” territory, Toni grabbed a couple of sweatshirts. She had no idea what the weather would be like in Denver in May.
By the time they were settled in the waiting limousine outside the hotel’s front lobby, Birdie was too distracted with awe to hold on to her anger toward Toni. Birdie fiddled with the television and other various buttons, while Logan and Toni snuggled close together in the seat.