Ransom Page 22

  The other cop said, “Daltrey Ransome, you are under arrest for the assault and battery of Justin D’Angelo.” He pulled a card from his pocket and read, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…”

  The sounds of the concert and the officer’s voice fade as a heavy buzzing fills my ears. I’m vaguely aware of Levi’s hand steadying me and of Daltrey looking at me sadly. The words repeat over and over in my head. The assault and battery of Justin D’Angelo. The assault and battery…

  Then the officers are leading Daltrey away, and I’m left alone in the darkness with only Levi to keep me from falling.

  ***

  After the concert, Levi arranges for a cab and takes me straight back to the hotel. “The girls can handle the merch table,” he tells me firmly.

  He has an arm around me as he leads me through the back hallway. I see Mr. Ransome frantically conversing with Dan, the tour manager, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. The rest of the crew is standing around dazed, no one knowing what they’re supposed to do.

  “What about you?” I ask. “What about your job?”

  “Someone else can do it,” he says shortly. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  I feel numb as the cab winds through heavy traffic. “Did you know? Where he went?”

  Levi sighs. “I had a feeling.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I hoped I was wrong.”

  “So… what? He flew home, kicked Justin’s ass, and flew back?”

  “It would seem so.” He pauses. “You have to give him credit; he’s a multitasker.”

  “Not funny, Levi.”

  He grimaces. “I know. Sorry.” He’s quiet for a minute. “What the fuck is wrong with him? I understand the wanting-to-protect-you thing, believe me, but how could he be so stupid? Like the thing you need is for him to get put in fucking jail.”

  I shake my head. “This is all my fault.”

  “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. This is not what you need.”

  I stare out the window. I can’t believe Daltrey did this. After everything that happened last night, everything I told him, the way we comforted each other. The way we made love… I thought it was finally the beginning of something new for me—freedom from the past months and all the pain they had contained. I woke up this morning—God, was it just this morning?—feeling happy and peaceful for the first time in ages. Hopeful, even. And now…

  “So I take it you told him everything,” Levi says.

  I nod, not turning to him.

  He sighs. “When?”

  “Last night. I thought he… I thought he was okay with everything. When we went to sleep—”

  I hear his sharp intake of breath and blush. “Sorry, I guess that was TMI. I just… I thought we were happy. I woke up feeling good today, you know? And he woke up and went to beat the hell out of someone.”

  “Like I said, stupid,” he mutters.

  We approach the hotel, and I cringe at the sight of the normal crowd. Is it my imagination, or is it bigger than usual? There definitely seem to be more reporters. My heart starts to pound. Has the news about the arrest already gotten out? We have no one from security with us. None of these people will have any idea who we are, but I wish I would have thought to ask to be taken through the garage instead.

  “Can you stop here?” Levi asks the driver, pulling out his wallet.

  The driver pulls over and takes the money. Levi hops out of the cab then comes around and opens my door. When I climb out, he puts his hand lightly on my back.

  “Just walk fast,” he says. “Without the guys here, they shouldn’t pay any attention to us.”

  I nod, leaning into him more than I normally would, wanting to hide. We head toward the front doors.

  “Hey, it’s her!”

  My head snaps up. They aren’t talking about me. They can’t be—

  “Daisy! Daisy Harris! What do you think about Daltrey’s arrest?”

  Suddenly the photographers and reporters are converging on us, surrounding us completely. I can’t even make out the door in front of us through the crowd.

  Levi gasps. “What the hell?” Then, his voice is blocked by the yells from the paparazzi.

  “How do you feel, Daisy, knowing he did this for you?”

  “Did you ask Daltrey to attack Mr. D’Angelo?”

  “Is the tour off?”

  “Do you feel like justice has been served?”

  “Is it true you spent time in a mental institution? Does Daltrey know about it?”

  “Do you love Daltrey Ransome?”

  I know we need to get out of here, know I have to fight my way through these people, but I’m frozen in place, terrified, as they hurl their questions at me. One thought manages to work its way into my shocked and overloaded brain: They know everything.

  “No comment,” Levi yells. “Get out of our way. No comment.” With his arm wrapped around me, he tries to force his way through the crowd.

  I bury my face into his shoulder, every instinct screaming to hide. The lights from their cameras flash brightly through my closed eyelids. Finally, we seem to make some progress. I hear other voices shouting, ordering the throng away. Security from the hotel must have figured out what’s going on and come to help. They manage to hold back the reporters, forming a path for us to reach the door.

  “Daisy, one picture!”

  “Daisy, how do you feel?”

  “Daisy, do you feel responsible for this?”

  “Has Daltrey seen the pictures?”

  With one final push from Levi, I’m inside the lobby. The noise from outside immediately fades a bit when the glass doors close behind us. I hear the remaining security guards yelling that everyone needs to back off, that they’re trespassing, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I peek out from Levi’s chest and see the desk staff and several guests staring at us. I close my eyes again and allow Levi to lead me to the elevators.

  “Okay, Daisy,” Levi whispers into my hair. “It’s okay.”

  I hear a ping and open my eyes as I’m pulled into the elevator.

  The guards come with us. “Are you okay?” one asks.

  I nod, burying my face into Levi’s shirt again. I take deep breaths, the familiar smell of him washing over me, calming me slightly.

  “What the hell was that?” Levi asks the guards.

  “I have no idea. The crowd out there was bigger than normal, but I figured it was because it was the last show. We didn’t hear anything from the band indicating we should be on higher alert. We weren’t expecting any of you to be back for a while.”

  “There was an arrest tonight,” Levi says, his voice soft as if he can stop me from hearing it. “One of the band members. We came back early.”

  “If someone would have called,” the guard says, sounding upset, “we would have—”

  “I’m sorry,” Levi tells him. “Don’t worry. None of this is your fault.”

  “Can we expect more of the same when the band gets back? We have a call in to the police.”

  “I’ll tell the band manager to call,” Levi responds.

  The doors open with another ping. I need to get off this elevator, away from these security guards. I can’t hear any more of this, can’t think about what’s happening. I just need to get away. I pull away from Levi and rush down the hall to my room, fumbling with my key.

  He catches up to me just as I manage to get the door open. “Daisy—”

  “Leave me alone, Levi.”

  “Yeah, right,” he mutters, following me into my room.

  I collapse on the couch, my head in my hands. The reporters’ words are chasing each other through my brain on a constant loop. They know. They know about all of it: that I’m the reason Daltrey got into that fight, that I spent time in a mental hospital. Did Daltrey see the pictures?

  “Oh, God,” I moan. If they know about the pictures, does that mean they found them? Are they going to be publishe
d? Will everyone see?

  I thought that the worst thing that could happen to me was for the kids at my high school to see those pictures, pass them around, and put them all over the Internet. But that is far from the worst thing. Because this is a completely different level. National entertainment reporters. Magazines. Websites.

  “I’m going to be sick!” I barely make it into the bathroom in time. I kneel in front of the toilet and empty the contents of my stomach.

  Levi crouches beside me, holding my hair back and rubbing my back. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “It’s going to be okay.”

  I can’t even argue with him. I continue to dry heave long after my stomach is empty. I know I should get up and call my dad, let him know what’s going on. The pictures are supposed to be sealed. Maybe there’s something his lawyer can do to stop all this before it gets out of control.

  Before it gets out of control. As if we’re not already miles past that point. I let out a strangled laugh and raise my head. Levi looks at me as if he’s worried for my sanity.

  I shake my head. “Sorry.”

  “What can I get you? Sprite? Juice?”

  “Sprite would be great.”

  He rushes out into the main room, and I lean back against the tub, wiping my mouth.

  Levi returns, Sprite in hand. “Here you go.” He grabs a tissue from the counter and sinks down to the floor, handing me the tissue then the glass.

  “Thank you, Levi.”

  He sits next to me while I carefully sip the soda. My breathing is still way too fast, so fast the room is spinning. I know from experience that I’m in danger of fainting if I can’t calm down. I concentrate on taking slow and steady sips with deep breaths in between, trying to keep my mind empty and blank.

  The shrilling of my phone breaks the silence. I pull it from my pocket and see my dad’s name. My stomach immediately plummets, and I fear I might start gagging again soon.

  “Ignore it,” Levi says. “You can call him later.”

  I shake my head. “He’ll freak out if I don’t answer. Why don’t you call Dan and let them know about the press outside.”

  He still looks uncertain, but when I bring the phone to my ear, he sighs in resignation and leaves the bathroom.

  “Hello?”

  “Daisy? Is that you? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  The sound of Dad’s voice sends a lump straight to my throat. As I expected, he sounds frantic. “I’m okay, Dad.”

  “People are calling here, reporters. And the news says Daltrey got arrested, and you’re involved. What did he do to you?”

  “He didn’t do anything to me, Dad. He… had a fight. With Justin.”

  After a beat, he says, “So he thought he’d be all big and tough, huh? And he pulled you right into the middle of it. Did he consider, even for a minute, what this attention would do to you? I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out there.”

  “Dad, please…”

  “I’m booking you a plane ticket,” he goes on, ignoring me. “Right now. I’ll call you when I have the details.”

  “No! I’m not leaving.”

  “Daisy, of course you’re coming home. You think I’m going to allow you to stay there? With the media and God knows who else at your door? Absolutely not.”

  I know he has a point, and I have no desire to be within a hundred miles of the band right now. But I also know I can’t go home. “I can’t be there either, Dad!” My voice is way too loud, but I can’t seem to control it. The idea of being so close to Joanie and Justin right now makes me break out in a cold sweat. “I’m not coming home. I refuse.”

  “Your apartment then,” he says. “I’ll book the ticket for Fayetteville.”

  But that won’t work, either. If everything is getting out, if people are talking about me, it won’t be long before they know where I go to school. “Dad, I need to think. Just give me some time to figure out what I want to do.”

  “Daisy, you listen to me. I want you out of there. I’m not kidding—”

  “I’ll call you back.” I hang up before he can protest further.

  I bury my head in my hands. What am I going to do? I can’t stay here. My dad is totally right. His condo back home isn’t an option, nor is my apartment. I feel trapped, cornered, hopeless. I have nowhere to run.

  Levi clears his throat, and I look up to see him standing in the doorway. He looks so concerned. I think of all the times this summer that he helped me out, looked out for me. He didn’t even hesitate tonight, putting my well-being before his responsibilities at work. He’s been a good friend to me, one of the best I’ve ever had.

  “Levi,” I say, reaching out for him, “I need your help.”

  He’s next to me in the blink of an eye, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Of course,” he says. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I need you to get me out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Daltrey

  Well, I really messed up this time.

  I run my hands through my hair, staring down at the concrete floor of the holding the cell. The holding cell. I can’t believe I’m actually in jail. It just doesn’t feel real.

  On the bright side, my brothers can no longer give me a hard time about not being rock and roll enough. What’s more rock and roll than getting arrested backstage at your own concert?

  I pretty much knew all along that going to see Justin would come back to bite me in the ass. Even as I booked the plane ticket this morning, I knew I was making a mistake. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  When Daisy finally told me what happened, I thought I was going to go insane with the anger. I wanted to throw things, to rip out my hair, to absolutely destroy someone or something. The thought of them hurting her like that, for no reason, just because they could… I can’t understand it. She’s never done anything to anyone. Why would anyone be so cruel? As her words sank in, I felt sicker and sicker. That bastard took pictures of her. She trusted him, trusted him with her kisses and her touch and her body, the very things I would have died to have. And what did he do with that trust? He sold her out. He made it possible for people to attack her, to wound her.

  I wanted to kill him.

  When she showed me her scars, and I realized how close I had come to losing her, actually losing her forever, everything else went away. The anger and the hate receded to a deep place within me, so my entire heart and mind could focus on her—on loving her. On healing her. Daisy needed me, and I needed her right back.

  But the next morning, as she slept in my bed next to me, the anger started to simmer again. I watched her fragile little shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and I imagined those same shoulders shaking with sobs. Because of him.

  My phone was on the bedside table, and I picked it up carefully so I wouldn’t wake her. It was easy enough to find him online. Scrolling back through his ConnectMe history took a while, but I eventually found some references to Daisy. I clicked on a post from Joanie Hartfield and switched to her profile.

  Joanie’s references were much more overt. I always knew the girl was a bitch, but I never imagined she could be so downright evil. She’d posted a slew of nasty comments, jokes, made a website, a Picturebook account, all to torture someone who had never done a thing to her. A lot of the content had been removed, but there was enough for me to know that Joanie, too, deserved to have her ass kicked.

  I felt almost guilty when I went to a search engine and typed in Daisy’s name. I knew she wouldn’t want me to see what they did to her, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know.

  Someone obviously went to a lot of trouble to get the pictures removed from the Internet. It was a full ten minutes before I came across one. Her body was pixelated out, thank God, but I felt sick, knowing it hadn’t always been that way. Her face broke my heart. Her head was half turned toward the camera, her eyes wide, the remains of a smile on her mouth. I got the feeling she’d been laughing about something before being caught unexpect
ed by the camera. She looked surprised, as though she’d been interrupted in a happy moment.

  I knew that I had to do something. If I didn’t, the anger would build up until I really did kill him. Besides, I needed to make sure that the pictures really were sealed, inaccessible. That they could never hurt her again. So, ill advised though it may have been, I booked a ticket to go home.

  I found Justin enjoying a liquid lunch at a local restaurant with a bunch of his douchebag friends. At first, I thought I’d be able to get out of there without violence. His eyes got pretty big at the sight of me, so he knew why I was there. That, if anything, made me even angrier. He agreed to join me in a private booth to talk, where I told him in no uncertain terms that I now had more money than God, and if the pictures of Daisy ever got out, I would make it my mission in life to make sure that his children’s children continued to pay for it. He nodded, silent and sweating.

  “And just so we’re clear,” I added, leaning across the table. “You’re a fucking asshole, and I hope you rot in hell.”

  “Hey, man,” he said, holding up his hands. “It all just got out of hand.”

  “You think taking pictures of someone without their permission is out of hand?” I snarled. “And then distributing them without her consent? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  His face went red. “Hey, she was into it, too. It’s not like I forced her.”

  “Watch what you fucking say right now, man.”

  He scowled. “Just ’cause you’re pissed that I got some of the ass you always wanted and didn’t get, it doesn’t mean she didn’t want to be there with me.”

  I lost it.

  I don’t regret jumping him, but I do wish I would have checked to make sure his asshole friends weren’t capturing it on their cell phones.

  The officers told me he was hospitalized, necessitating the arrest, but I’m calling bullshit on that one. Okay, I might have broken his nose, but the bastard will be fine.

  “Mr. Ransome, your lawyer is here.”