Dare to Dream (Truth or Dare #2) (17 page)

No one is home when I reach Robby and Amanda’s. After trying, and failing, to reach either of them on their phones, I punch in the code to Robby’s garage and pull the Cutlass inside. I leave a note on the windshield, letting Robby know that we’ll be back for it by Christmas. He won’t care—this spot has turned into Colby’s over the past number of years, the result of how much time we’ve spent here.

It’s too cold to walk back to my place, so I call a cab and wait in the warmth of the heated garage. While I wait, I try calling Colby. The voicemail picks up and I debate leaving a message. I don’t, figuring that he’ll call back when he sees my number in the missed call log.

Back at the apartment, April has everything loaded into the moving van. And bless her heart, she’s also run to the convenience store around the corner to load up on soda and snacks for the drive. “You ready to hit the road?” she asks, offering to drive the first leg since I was up early for school and we both know she’ll ask me to take over the minute she sees freezing rain hit the windshield.

“Let’s do it.” I take one last look around the apartment that’s been home for the past few years. There are so many memories within these walls, but it was never meant to be a forever home. Still, I’m
a bit saddened, knowing that my crappy little apartment will never again host one of our impromptu parties. There will never be another early morning newspaper fight, leaving every horizontal surface in the apartment, bathtub included, covered in crumpled newsprint. No socks dried in the microwave after being washed in the bathroom sink, causing everything cooked for the following week to have the faint taste of feet. Not every memory created here was pleasant, but this was the beginning of so many things and it’s not as easy as I expected to say goodbye.

“Before you pass out on me, did you get to talk to Colby?” April asks, easing her way onto the highway. I’m staring out the window, saying goodbye to the place that has been my home since I was a baby. When I was a moody teenager, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Now that I’m leaving, the only thing that pushes me to follow through is the knowledge that Colby and I will be together, where we need to be, when this is all said and done.

When the lingering doubt tries creeping into my mind, I remind myself that I’m the only person who knows Colby that was stupid enough to believe the tabloid pictures this morning. He’s never done anything to violate my trust, so I have to have faith that he’s not going to start now. Rather than wonder if moving is the wisest decision, I hold out hope that being with him again whenever he’s home will help us grow stronger.

“No, he didn’t pick up. I figured he was probably on stage or doing whatever it is they have to do after the show.” Pulling my phone out, I try him again. And just as before, I’m sent to voicemail. “Hey baby, it’s me. Listen, I really need you to call me when you get this message. I don’t care what time it is. Okay? Love you, bye.” Hanging up, I toss the phone on the seat beside us, rolling my coat to use as a pillow.

“I’ll wake you when he calls,” April says, glancing in the mirrors before shifting lanes.

Colby

Of course
, Lea would call me six times the night that our set went twice as long as anticipated thanks to technical issues. Luckily, the owner of the club bought a round for the entire bar so no one revolted. Seriously, it could have gotten ugly quick. I tried calling her back, but the phone went directly to voicemail. There aren’t many things that upset me about Lea, but she has this way of forgetting to put her phone on the charger when she goes to bed that’s annoying as shit.

“Hey, it’s me. You told me to call, so here I am. Now, if only your battery wasn’t dead we’d be set. I guess it’s your turn to call me when you get this. I’ll put my phone on vibrate so you can call anytime without waking up the whole bus. Love you, see you later tonight.” I hang up after leaving yet another message for her.

When my phone rings, I don’t bother looking at the caller ID. It’s after three in the morning now and there’s only one person I’m expecting a call from. “Hey, what the fuck is going on?” Robby’s is not the voice I expected to hear. The worried tone of his voice causes me to sit up, forgetting that I’m in my bunk until my head bounces off the ceiling above me.

“What are you talking about?” I whisper, sliding out of my little cubbyhole at the back of the bus, hoping I didn’t already wake anyone.

“I’m talking about your car in my garage with a note saying you’ll pick it up at Christmas. I’m not mad, but—”

“Dude, you’re not making any fucking sense. I’m on my way from Kansas to Minnesota right now, so I haven’t done shit with my car. What do you mean there was a note on it?” I start a pot of coffee, trying to keep from throwing a mug down the aisle of the bus. My heart races as I wait for Robby to say something, anything at all, because right now I’m about one wrong word away from completely losing my shit.

“I mean that when Amanda and I opened the garage door tonight, your Cutlass was sitting in the garage with a note on it. I get that I woke you up, but it’s pretty straight-forward, man.”

Slumping into the seat at the small dining table in the bus, my head falls back. My throat’s closing and my jaw hurts from clenching my teeth so hard. None of this makes any sense. “Your guess is as good as mine. Has Amanda tried calling her?” I ask, tapping my fingers nervously on the table. I hate this shit. Something’s not right and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way of getting to her. Hell, I can’t even get her to pick up the damn phone.

“Yeah, and she said it goes to voicemail right away.” The only comfort to be had is that it’s not just my calls she’s ignoring. I haven’t had a cigarette since I moved to Nashville, but right about now, I’d give just about anything to have a pack sitting in front of me. Staring out the window into the dark Iowa countryside, I feel more helpless than I ever have in my life.

“Can Amanda try going to the apartment? I know it’s a lot to ask, but something feels off here. You and I both know Lea doesn’t pull shit like this.” I jump when a small hand land
s on my back and I turn to see Missy standing next to me, her brow furrowed. “Look man, I need to try her again. Just…please ask Amanda to run over there. Call me when you know something. I don’t care what time it is, fucking call me.”

“What’s up?” Missy asks, sliding into the seat across from
me, handing me a mug of coffee. She stares at me, waiting for me to say something. Rubbing the back of my neck, I stare blankly across the table at her. 

“Lea dropped my car at a buddy’s house with a note that I’d pick it up at Christmas.”
My voice is so shaky and weak I barely recognize it. My foot shakes against the support leg of the table, causing everything to jostle around. Missy reaches down, holding my leg still and I pull away. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, but right now, being touched by another woman is the last fucking thing that I want or need.

I was a fucking fool to think that we’d figured shit out earlier today. By the time we hung up, I thought she was calmed down and believed that nothing was going on between Missy and me. She
told me
that it was just the initial shock, but that we’d be okay. But now, she’s not answering calls and she left my car, her only means of transportation, at a buddy’s house. What the fuck am I supposed to think? Right now, I’m thinking that I was a fucking fool for convincing myself that it would be that easy to get past that incident.

“You said she was going to be heading to Nashville after the Rochester show, right?” Missy asks, flashing a smile that does nothing to hide the fact that she doesn’t believe her own words. “Maybe she is getting ready for that and dropped the car off so she didn’t have to drive it down there. I know the weather forecast for the next week is total crap, so it’s possible.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” My head is pounding. This bus has gone from my home on the road to a prison keeping me from taking care of my personal life. Picking up my phone, I try in vain to reach Lea. “Baby, I don’t know what’s going on, but you
need
to fucking call me. I’m losing it here because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. I’m trying my best to stay calm and not jump to conclusions, but it’s getting hard. Just… call me.”

“Come on, let’s try to get some sleep,” Missy urges, rinsing both of our coffee mugs on the way to the back of the bus. I don’t say it, but there’s no fucking chance I’m going to get any sleep tonight.

**

In the past, I’ve thought I had times when I’ve walked around like a zombie, but nothing compares to how I feel today. It’s been twenty-six hours since I’ve heard a single word from Lea. When I asked before my set if she had picked up her tickets from will-call, Pete tried to calm me down by blaming the weather. That did nothing to ease my nerves.
It might have worked if I’d heard anything comforting from home, but Robby had no good news when he called this morning. Amanda pounded on the apartment door, but no one answered and Lea’s phone is still turned off.

I was so out of it on stage that I couldn’t even tell you what songs we performed or if the crowd noticed that I would have rather been anywhere other than Rochester fucking Minnesota.
Foolishly, I thought I’d be able to shut off my mind long enough to get out there and do my job. I should have told Pete I couldn’t do it tonight, but that would have done just as much damage as I did in the end. He would have realized that I’m not strong enough to compartmentalize when shit hits the fan and I’d be sunk.

“Get your ass out to the truck,” Pete orders, slamming the door to the green room behind him.

He’s livid, with good reason. Time and time again, he’s reminded me that I have to learn to separate my personal life from what the rest of the world sees and I failed him tonight. I should feel worse than I do, but I don’t. Maybe the guilt will creep in once I know Lea’s okay. At this point, that’s all I want from her. We can get past whatever she’s got going on, but it’s the fact that I have no clue if she’s safe terrifies me.

I waste no time getting outside and into the passenger’
s seat. The fact that he won’t even look at me sends my mind racing out of control. I start wondering if I’m about to be fired and released from my contract. I wouldn’t blame him given the shit show I put on tonight. He sits there staring out the windshield, his body perfectly still. “What’s up?” I ask quietly.

“The bus is heading on to Chicago, but you and me, we’re going to swing by your place so you can find out what’s going on and maybe
you can get your head out of your ass.” Pete stares straight ahead, as he pulls out of the back parking lot of the club.

“Thanks.” I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to say.
It’s more than I deserve, but I’m grateful that he realizes that this is exactly what I need. No matter what I find out, I’ll be able to focus because I’ll have some kind of answer. I watch the highway signs, trying to keep from screaming at Pete to pull the truck over to the shoulder every time I see tire tracks leading from the driving lanes into the ditch. “Look, I know I fucked up tonight. I wouldn’t blame you if you cut me loose after that disaster of a show. You took a chance on me and I screwed that up. Maybe everyone who says I have no place being out here are right.”

It doesn’t escape me that I’m more nervous now about Pete being disappointed in me than I ever was when my father told me that I had let him down. That’s probably because Pete respects me therefore, I respect him in return. The fact that he holds the keys to my future in his hand may
little play a part in it as well.

“Knock it off. If I got rid of every client who had a shitty performance, I’d have about eighty hours more
of free time every week. On the other hand, we already have our work cut out for us to overcome tonight. I’m not about to have this shit become a distraction that leads to a series of bad nights.” He glances at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. His voice is steady and calm, his features unreadable. “But you have to learn to turn off everything but your performance the minute you hit that stage. You didn’t let me down, but you
did
let down an entire club filled with potential fans.”

Fuck, now I wish he would scream at me. But that’s not Pete’s style. He’s the strong, silent type, always giving people the benefit of the doubt and guidance to help them do better.

“You’re right and I’m sorry.” We cross the state line and I turn on the stereo, needing something to drown out the worst-case scenario thoughts that are playing in loops in my mind. No matter how much I tell myself to ignore the clock display on the dashboard, I haven’t made it more than three minutes so far without checking the time.

I’m not shocked when I look at my phone and see that there are no missed calls. The war wages on in my mind, trying to decide whether or not call
ing her again will bring me closer to the brink of insanity. Fuck it. It’s not as if I’m in any better shape by
not
calling her.

“Colby, I know it’s hard for you to be out there, trying to not think about what is going on back home, but I have to tell you, kid, that’s something that’ll never go away.
It won’t always be like this, because this is pretty messed up, but shit happens every day in life and you’re always going to wish you could be there. You need to decide if you’ll be able to live with not having that kind of control.” Pete eases off the gas as the visibility is reduced to nearly nothing. The cab of the truck is quiet as he pays attention to the road conditions. The silence allows me time to think about his advice.

It’s an odd comfort to know that my struggles aren’t going to go away as time goes on. It means that I’m not weak,
that I’m only human. But it can’t stay this way every time I leave. Lea and I have to figure out a way to cope and communicate because I won’t last another week living this way, much less a full tour.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks once the snow eases up a bit,
allowing him to divide his attention between the road and my impending breakdown.

“Not like I have much of a choice, but sure.” Despite the comfortable temperature in the truck, I begin to shiver, a side effect of the adrenaline that has kept me going for so long fading out of my system.

“Do you trust her?” he asks, gripping the steering wheel tight as he sits up straighter in his seat as the road turns snow covered and slippery.

“Of course. I think that’s part of why I’m so freaked out right now. If I thought she was running around on me, it’d be
easier to let her go,” I admit, running my fingers through my matted hair. “But this isn’t like her. Even when we weren’t together, she was always good about staying in touch with me. She’s more than just some girl, Pete. She’s my world. I think she has been since the day I met her as an awkward, shy teenager.”

“Okay, well then I think that no matter what you find out when we get to Madison, you need to remember that. I don’t know her all that well, but she seems to have a good head on her shoulders.”

Pete stops talking and I turn toward the door, resting my head against the cold glass. No matter how much my mind protests sleep right now, my body is nearing the point of exhaustion. The gentle hum of the tires against snow covered roads drag me into a restless sleep until I feel the truck slowing.

It’s nearly
four in the morning by the time Pete parks his truck in front of our apartment building. I close my eyes to pray, something I rarely ever do, that there’s a logical explanation for her disappearing act. When I invite him inside, he declines, telling me that this is something I need to do on my own. He’s not wrong, but it would be nice to have someone beside me since I have no idea what I’m walking into. The lobby of the building is disarmingly quiet as I wait for the elevator. Because we live on campus and most of the residents are college students, it’s rarely ever quiet around here.

The moment I open the door to our apartment, I know something’s very, very wrong. It’s far too still
, and the light that is always left on when we’re home is dark. There’s no gentle whirring of the fans from my computer. Even the scent of the plug-in air fresheners Lea’s addicted to is faint. I flip on the hall light and immediately drop to my knees. She’s gone. Not like ‘I blew off my boyfriend to have a good time closer to home’ gone, but G-O-N-E. Gone.

What used to be a wall of photos taken over the years is now a series of nails sticking out of the wall in random intervals. The lamps that
once flanked either end of the couch are gone, but the couch itself remains.