Chapter One
Daisy
“Holy shit,” I muttered as our SUV from the airport pulled up outside the arena in Cincinnati.
“This is insane,” my brother Bonham, who also happened to be our drummer, added. His dark hair was a mess and if my parents hadn’t insisted we were related, I wouldn’t have believed we were. It was that way with all of my brothers.
“Right?” I smiled his way.
Logically we’d all known joining Courting Chaos on tour would mean playing arenas like this. Seeing it firsthand was something else altogether.
“Listen,” Mack, oldest brother to all of us and our manager, said before clearing his throat.
His movements were so similar to Bonham. As was his voice and coloring. Same dark hair. Same dark eyes. If I thought about it too long, it seemed even stranger that the four of them had come out looking like they were family yet there I was almost their opposite. They were tall while I wasn’t. They all had the dark hair and eyes while I had red hair and hazel eyes. It was weird.
“I know this is big,” Mack finally said. “Let’s not fuck it up.” Sage advice from a wise man. A thought that made me snicker. “We should get our things settled on the bus. I had the bags you packed before and our equipment brought here already, so we’re set there. Then we’ll have to meet the guys and do soundcheck.”
I let a small noise, something that sounded like and eep, escape from my mouth. I’d loved Courting Chaos’ music long before they’d hit it big and opened for Kissing Cinder. I’d gone to see them on that tour, too. More than that, they were who we wanted to be one day. Success wise.
My brothers had messed around with their instruments for years before I’d become part of Pushing Daisies. Actually, that wasn’t even their name back then. It had been something stupid like Dude Bros or another name that was equally ridiculous. It wasn’t until my brother Van Zant heard me singing one day that they’d lured me in. I never sang in front of anyone before that. Not even for fun. It wasn’t my thing. I would’ve been content to play my violin alone in a room forever, but once they’d made me part of their little group, I was all in.
“None of that, Daisy,” Mack cautioned. “Let’s at least try to pretend to be professional.”
“Yeah, Daisy,” Van Zant, twin to Bonham as well as being our bass player, said like we were in middle school. My brothers were ridiculous.
I grunted. “I’m nothing if not professional, but in private, I am absolutely allowed to vocalize my excitement. You should’ve gone to the concert with me. Courting Chaos fucking rocked plus I got to see Kissing Cinder.”
Daltrey, guitar player and second oldest brother and the only one my mom said held any resemblance to me, patted me on the shoulder. Apparently, we had the same smile otherwise, he was made from the same mold that produce the others. “She’ll be good.”
The scowl I gave him after that comment wasn’t going to do much to deter any further teasing from my brothers. I knew it. They knew it. It was how we worked.
“I’m just glad you know what you’re doing,” Daltrey continued but that was meant for our brother Mack, not for me.
“Was anyone else surprised as hell to find out that Mack does in fact know… well, anything?” Bonham continued.
Mack didn’t respond other than to raise his middle finger at our brothers. This was our normal. The guys gave each other shit and gave me shit. There was always shit going around.
“I just can’t believe our luck.” I shook my head. “Not that it’s a good kind of luck that the Hurricane’s drummer and lead singer were badly injured in a car accident, of course.”
“Of course,” Mack said, but the slight tilt of his lips meant that he really wanted to fuck with me. He wouldn’t because we’d arrived. But he wanted to.
The cheers from the crowd filled my ears as we got out of the SUV that had been sent for us. Each of us carried a single bag of personal items since Mack had shipped the majority of our things. There was no way to tell if those cheers were for us or because these Courting Chaos fans thought one of the guys from that band was inside the car. Probably more the latter than the former, but when we’d joined the tour last week, we did bring a small but energetic fanbase with us.
This tour would likely change all that. The crowd remained chattery as we passed by but the big excitement died down.
We walked toward a woman who didn’t look much older than me with dark hair pulled up into a very neat bun. But she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. It was clear to me that she was headed straight for us.
“Hi, everybody. I’m Barrett Powell. Lawson’s personal assistant and all-around media wrangler. He’s in with the guys and wants me to get you all settled in.”
“We appreciate it,” Mack told her before introducing each of us.
I couldn’t stop grinning over the fact that there was another woman on the tour. That was never a given and mostly rare if you didn’t count the randoms that hung around or the occasional wife or girlfriend. At least in my experience. I desperately wanted us to get along because she could be my safe haven in the middle of the testosterone storm that came with living on a bus with four guys.
Barrett waved us to follow as she began to walk away. The sound of the crowd had started to interfere with us talking.
“Hey, guys,” I said to my brothers as we headed for the door. “Did you notice the dude in front? With the super blond hair? I swear I saw him in Chicago last weekend at our show.”
“Oh yeah,” Daltrey agreed. “I thought he looked familiar.”
“If he came all this way, maybe we should meet him. Like, can we do that?”
Barrett snorted. “Listen, you can pretty much do what you want. If you want that guy backstage, I’ll make it happen.”
“You’re like the all-powerful Oz,” I told her, keeping my eyes wide as if amazed. That got a loud laugh out of her. “I think we should,” I added.
“Oh. I’m going to like you,” she said, falling in step closer to me. “I’ll take care of it.”
Again, we didn’t have a fanbase the size of Courting Chaos’, given how big they’d become since touring with Kissing Cinder last year, but we’d had songs that were considered hits. We had albums out and had amassed a loyal fanbase. But if that guy had come to Cincinnati from Chicago, or wherever he was from, the least we could do was give him a good experience.
“So your instruments joined us yesterday,” Barrett told the five of us as we walked between buses. “They’re inside ready to set up for soundcheck. The guys are doing theirs now.” Then she stopped next to one of the buses. They all looked the same to me, but we’d soon be able to tell them apart. Or I hoped we would. “This is yours.” She pulled the door open then climbed the stairs. I followed closely behind.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called out only as loud as appropriate. But Barrett giggled.
“I like that,” she told me.
“We’re not even inside yet, Daisy,” Van told me.
“It’s a habit that I don’t intend to lose,” I said back. Then to Barrett, I explained, “I call that out every time I get on the bus because I want my brothers to know I’m here. So I don’t get scarred for life from seeing something I shouldn’t be seeing.”