Ransom Read online

  I look up to see the officer who had booked me standing in front of the holding cell. I bite back a groan. If my lawyer is here, I’ll bet anything my dad is with him. I know I have to face the music eventually, but I was hoping that eventuality could wait until morning.

  I’m led to a small conference room where a tall man in a suit—the lawyer, I assume—is sitting at the table. Instead of my father, Reed is there. They stand as I enter the room.

  I stop just inside the doorway, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m trying to help your ass,” Reed says, scowling, “which is totally not what I feel like doing tonight, by the way. So your thanks is appreciated.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just… I wasn’t expecting you. Thanks for coming.”

  The lawyer holds out his hand. “John Dwyer. I’m on retainer with your record label.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “The record label keeps criminal lawyers on retainer?”

  Reed shakes his head at me.

  I hold out a hand to John. “Uh, thanks for coming. I’m Daltrey Ransome.”

  John gestures to the table and we sit. “Well, Mr. Ransome, I’ve been in contact with the prosecutors in Ohio. The location of the incident adds quite a bit of complication to our situation here, but we’re working on it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The state of New York is not the prosecuting entity, but they are required to provide for your extradition to Ohio, where you would be charged. Technically, Ohio has thirty days to decide whether or not they want to come and get you.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “He can be here for thirty days?” Reed asks, sounding equally shocked. “Can’t he just post bail?”

  “He hasn’t been charged with anything yet. And he won’t be until he’s extradited back to Ohio.”

  “Which can take thirty days,” I mutter, resting my head in my hands. I feel sick. “Shit.”

  “Yes, well, we’re going to try to make sure that doesn’t happen. We’ll recommend waiving your extradition rights, which can speed up the process, but we’ll work to get you released even sooner. My colleagues in Ohio will be speaking with a judge first thing tomorrow. Our goal will be to arrange for your release with the promise that you will present yourself in Ohio.”

  “Yeah,” I say quickly. “I totally will. Whatever I have to do.”

  “In the meantime, is there anything I can get for you? Are you comfortable? You haven’t had any issues, have you?”

  I shake my head. They put me in a private holding cell, which I’m thinking has something to do with my name. I’m not complaining.

  “You are within your rights to have access to your attorney at regular intervals,” John says, handing me a card. “That’s my direct line.”

  I take the card without looking at it. “Thanks.”

  “We’ll get you out of here, Mr. Ransome.” John smiles for the first time. “The label has a great amount of interest in getting you back on stage as soon as possible. No expense will be spared.”

  Somehow, this makes me feel worse. I’m letting a heck of a lot of people down here. “Thanks,” I mumble.

  The lawyer starts to stand.

  “Can I talk to him for a few minutes?” Reed asks him.

  John looks toward the door, where the officer who escorted me stands on the other side. “That should be fine,” he says. “I’ll wait outside.”

  Once he’s gone, Reed lets out a deep sigh. “So. You really fucked up, huh?”

  I laugh bitterly. “I was just thinking that.” I look at my knees. “Dad didn’t want to come?”

  “He probably didn’t want to get arrested himself.”

  “He’s that pissed?”

  “Pissed is an understatement.”

  “I’m really sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking, you know? I mean, I knew I could get into trouble, but I didn’t think it would be this fast. I thought maybe once we got back to Ohio or something…”

  “The press got a hold of it. Someone posted cell phone footage online, so it’s all over the news. And that Justin punk is insisting on pressing charges. Law enforcement was probably feeling some pressure to take action, not look the other way because you’re a celebrity.”

  I swallow hard. “I went out there because he has pictures, Reed. Of Daisy. I had to make sure that he knew I’d come after him with the full force of the best lawyers money could buy if they ever got out again.”

  “I know,” he says, his voice sad.

  My stomach sinks. Daisy must have told them all what happened. She shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m such an asshole.

  “We’ve got people on it,” he adds.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dad’s got some lawyers looking into it. We’ll make sure those pictures stay hidden if we possibly can.”

  His words bring a rush of warmth to my chest. My father may be too angry to come visit me in jail, but at least he’s going to do his best to protect Daisy.

  “What all did she tell you?” I ask.

  He looks at me blankly. “What do you mean?”

  “Daisy. She told you about the pictures, right? What else did she say?”

  His face falls. “Man, I don’t know how to tell you this. Daisy didn’t tell us anything. We heard it on the news.”

  The room seems to get very quiet all of a sudden. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. “What?”

  “It’s all over the news that you beat up Justin because he passed around nude pictures of your girlfriend.”

  No. This can’t be happening. “Do they have her name?” He doesn’t have to answer. The look in his eyes tells me everything that I need to know. “Do they have the pictures?”

  “No, not yet. The lawyers are talking to Daisy’s dad. It looks like there was some threatened lawsuit at the time, and the pictures were sealed. But a lot of people had them, man, so there’s no guarantee it will stay that way.”

  I close my eyes. This is all my fault. Daisy’s name is in the news. People know about this terrible thing that happened to her, this thing she tried to keep a secret for so long. It’s my fault. And it’s also my fault that I’m not there with her right now to help her deal with it.

  “Who’s with her?” I ask, my eyes still closed. I can’t get the image out of my head of Daisy at the top of the Empire State Building, so scared and panicked that she couldn’t even breathe.

  “Levi took her out of the hotel. There was press there and…”

  My eyes snap open. “The press?”

  He nods, looking miserable. “They went back before any of us, bro. She and Levi didn’t have anyone with them.”

  I picture Daisy trying to get through the throng of reporters with no one to help her but Levi, and suddenly, I’m sure I’m going to be sick.

  “But Levi got her out of there, man. He texted Lennon to let him know.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “Levi wasn’t sure where they were gonna go, yet. I think they’re just driving. For now at least.”

  I nod, feeling marginally better. If Levi is with her, she’ll be okay. He’s been looking out for her and her friends ever since they joined the tour. But one thing is certain. I need to get the hell out of here.

  “Reed, you have to get me released. I’ll do whatever I have to do, pay whatever bail they want. I’ll go straight back to Ohio to be charged tomorrow. But I have to get out of here. She needs me.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Not that I doubt that, Dalt, but there’s also the little matter of our tour, you know? We have several more shows left.”

  I grimace. The tour is the last thing on my mind. “Then use that angle to press the lawyers. Don’t allow them to let up.”

  “We won’t, man.”

  There’s a rapping on the door, then John sticks his head back in. “We’re out of time.”

  I look across the table at my oldest brother, feeling terrified. They’re going to leave me here, alone. And I’ll
be spending the night in jail. I know it’s not the end of the world, know I can handle it. But it’s still not an idea I like very much, particularly not when I know Daisy is out there even more scared and alone than I am.

  Reed surprises me by pulling me into a hug. “It’s going to be fine, man.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter into his shoulder. “I know I’m screwing things up for you guys.”

  “Let’s just focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

  I nod, pulling back and avoiding his eyes so he won’t know how close to tears I am.

  “We’ll be in touch tomorrow, Daltrey,” John says, shaking my hand. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to get you released tonight, but I promise you it’s our top priority.”

  “Thanks.”

  The officer escorts me back to my cell. As I walk back down the dingy hallway with the grey peeling paint, I think about how I woke up this morning with Daisy in my arms. It was literally a dream come true, something I’ve wished for for years. Yet less than twenty-four hours later, I’ll be sleeping alone on a cot behind bars.

  I messed up the tour for my brothers, for all the crew that works for us, and for the fans who we owe everything to. But none of that even compares to what I did to Daisy. With one stupid swing of my fist, I not only put her directly into the spotlight she abhorred, I also left her alone to deal with the consequences.

  The officer locks the door of the holding cell, and I flop down onto the cot. I really, really screwed up this time. And the people I love are the ones who have to pay for it.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Daisy

  Levi arranges a car to meet us in the parking garage, far from the eyes of the press and the gawkers. We drive straight out of the New York, Levi behind the wheel, allowing me to sit in numb silence.

  After an hour or so, I ask, “Where are we going?”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  I stare out the dark window. “Somewhere far away,” I whisper, not caring how stupid that sounds. Levi has a job with the band. I can’t ask him to take me away. But maybe he could get me to an airport or something.

  He nods. “I thought you might say that. What do you think about northern Michigan? My family has a place. It’s quiet and private.”

  “Michigan? That’s like, a day away.”

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  I try to make out his expression, but all I can see is shadows in the dashboard lights. “Can you just leave? Don’t they need you?”

  “Daltrey would want me to take care of you. So just let me worry about that, okay?”

  I know I should argue and tell him that I can take care of myself. But I really don’t know if I can. I haven’t felt like this in months, not since before Horizons. The way I’m feeling scares me. And there’s really nowhere else for me to run.

  I leaned back into my seat. “Okay.”

  We stop at a motel somewhere in Pennsylvania so Levi can get a few hours’ sleep. He books adjoining rooms and refuses to allow me to pay. “This is coming out of Ransom petty cash.” He grimaces. “It’s the least Daltrey can do for you.”

  The rooms are simple and clean, though pretty outdated. I like knowing Levi’s right next door, but I don’t manage to sleep much at all. I dream about the reporters and the panic in my dad’s voice when he called.

  We check out of the motel early, and Levi drives for the rest of the day, stopping only twice for gas and food. We don’t talk much as Pennsylvania turns into Ohio and eventually Michigan, rolling fields and suburbs slowly giving way to heavy forests.

  Levi pulls off the freeway. After a few more turns, we’re on a back road, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

  He turns off the radio. “My family owns a little cabin on the shores of Lake Huron. It’s off in the woods. From the front door, you can barely see the foot of the driveway. The neighboring cabins aren’t close enough to be a problem.”

  I start to tear up a little. “Thanks so much, Levi. I don’t know how—”

  He holds up his hand. “Just listen. The cabin has no phone and no Internet, and getting a cell signal is pretty much impossible. There isn’t even a cable hookup. Basically, it’s the perfect place to hide.”

  Hiding. That’s what I’m doing. I left my phone in the bathroom in New York. My dad has no idea where I am. I didn’t even tell the girls that I was leaving, though I bet Levi let them know.

  Since we’d grabbed a fast-food dinner at our last stop for gas, we go straight bed when we arrive at the cabin. As Levi leads me to my room, I notice enough of my surroundings to assume that the cabin is pretty rustic and basically furnished. There’s a set of French doors leading from my room to a balcony, and I can hear the waves crashing distantly on the shore.

  Levi pauses at my door as I move to take off my shoes. I have a feeling he wants to say something, but eventually, he sighs and simply tells me to sleep well.

  I spend my second restless night in a row. Every time I wake up I feel a rush of panic, not knowing where I am. After several hours, I give up and climb out of bed. Moonlight peaks through the curtains, and I decide some fresh air would be nice.

  The balcony is small, just big enough for a chair and side table. I lean against the railing for a moment, staring out into the night. Either my eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness, or it’s closer to dawn than I thought. I can now make out the rolling waves of the lake. Lake Huron is vast, a grey void that I can imagine disappearing in forever, slipping below the surface until I fade to nothingness.

  You have to stop thinking like that. You can’t get to a headspace where nothingness seems like a potential alternative. You’ve come too far for that.

  But have I really? I’m basically behaving exactly the way I did a year ago. Shit hits the fan and I run away. But what choice do I have? I couldn’t have stayed there. The band is way too visible, too many people watching them, following them, talking about them. And now those same people are talking about me.

  I wonder where Daltrey is. Is he out of jail? Are they already on their way to the next city, the next show?

  Beneath all the fear and anxiety, a deep ache has pulsed with every beat of my heart. I miss him, plain and simple. I was on the verge of finally having all my dreams come true, and it was all snatched away from me.

  You didn’t have to leave. He went to jail for you. The least you could do is be there for him.

  “I couldn’t,” I whisper, trying to silence the voice in my head. Daltrey would understand why I had to leave, wouldn’t he? But what if he doesn’t? What if he blames me?

  I can’t worry about that right now. I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do next.

  I stare out at the water as the sun slowly peeks out from behind the waves, transforming the sky from steel grey to light pink. By the time I hear Levi stirring from within the house, I’m no closer to having any clue of how to fix this mess.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Daltrey

  I step out of the car, and I’m immediately surrounded by reporters and cameras.

  “Daltrey, where’s Daisy?”

  “What was jail like?”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Is it true she dumped you?”

  “No comment,” I mutter, pulling my beanie lower on my forehead. “Excuse me, please.”

  Even with the combined size and strength of Frank and Benny trying to clear a path through the paparazzi, I still have trouble getting into the building. Over the past year, I’ve gotten somewhat used to press and reporters, but this is much worse than usual.

  “Move back,” Frank bellows. “You all need to take a step back, now!” He manages to make a slight inroad into the crowd.

  I squeeze through and into the lobby. “Holy shit.” I turn to Frank. “That was worse than yesterday. Thanks, man.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s my job to keep your puny ass from getting squashed like a bug.”

  I manage a grin. “How else could a meat
head like you manage to make a living?”

  “Daltrey?” My father sticks his head through the doorway to the practice room. “We’re waiting for you.”

  “We had some trouble getting through the press mess outside,” Benny explains, but Dad’s already ducking back into the room.

  “Don’t bother,” I tell Benny. “He’s having far too much fun being pissed at me.”

  “Good luck, man.”

  I slap Frank on the shoulder as I pass. “Thanks again.”

  My brothers and Dan are all waiting in the practice room where we’ll hold our team meeting.

  “Hey, Dalt,” Lennon begins.

  My dad cuts him off. “Heather just called. She said the interview went well?”

  I nod. Heather is a press secretary with the label. She accompanied me to the interview I just completed with a Rolling Stone reporter. The only positive thing about my arrest is the way we have been able to smooth things over with Rolling Stone. After I had missed the group interview the morning I went to Ohio, my dad had promised them a one-on-one with me, but they weren’t happy about it. After the arrest, that interview turned into an exclusive and quite a big coup for them.

  “Good.” Dad turns to the rest of the band as if dismissing me.

  I try not to bristle. It’s been this way pretty much since I got out of jail last week. True to their word, the lawyers worked with the Ohio judge and prosecutor to get me released less than twelve hours after the arrest. All in all, the whole jail experience was quite a bit easier than dealing with my family.

  “Okay,” Dad says. “Dan is going to walk us through the new schedule. It’s pretty tight, so I want to make sure you’re all on the same page.”

  Pretty tight. In other words, they’re going to work our asses off. Cash shoots me a glare, and I feel that familiar swoop of guilt. Dad and Dan have been riding us pretty hard, and I know my brothers blame me. They have every right to do so. We’ve cancelled three shows, thanks to my stupidity. We’ve been doing extra radio spots, interviews, store appearances, and even a live-streaming concert on the Internet. The reactions have been mostly positive. Dan tells us ticket sales are actually up for the remaining dates of the tour. I have a feeling part of that might be simple curiosity. People seem really into the “Rock Star Defends His Girlfriend’s Honor” storyline.