Daisy and the Front Man

a Backstage Pass novel

Table of Contents

Preface

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover the Backstage Pass series…

Aimee and the Heartthrob

Mia and the Bad Boy

Anya and the Shy Guy

Abby and the Cute One

The Winter People

The Summer Marked

Discover more Entangled Teen Crush books…

Not Okay, Cupid

Ten Things Sloane Hates About Tru

Keeping Her Secret

Blackmail Boyfriend

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Rebekah L. Purdy. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Crush is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Stacy Abrams

Cover design by Jessica Cantor

Cover art by Shutterstock

ISBN 978-1-63375-299-3

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition June 2015

Preface

Trevin Jacobs

Age: 18

Hair: dark brown/borderline black

Eyes: brown

Hometown: Topeka, KS

Favorite song on debut album: "The One"

Turn-ons: mad video game skills and beautiful eyes

His dream date: long walks on the beach—where he can serenade his girl under the stars

Quote to live by: No! Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try. –Yoda

Prologue

Daisy smoothed down her dark blue dress as cameras flashed around her. The whole town had shown up: local television crews, the newspaper, people from school, and even one of the ladies from Entertainment Tonight. In approximately fifteen minutes, Trevin Jacobs would arrive to take her to Homecoming. The Trevin Jacobs—as in famous boy band hottie. Two months ago, she’d won the nationwide contest from Girls for Change magazine by starting a recycling program in her hometown. Out of the thousands of girls who’d entered, she still couldn’t believe she’d won. Although her recycling plan was awesome, she had a feeling her grandpa had used some of his music industry connections to help make this happen before he died. And the grand prize for her hard work? A date of her choosing with one of the guys from Seconds to Juliet.

Nervousness erupted in her stomach like an active volcano. God, she hoped she didn’t spew in front of everyone. If she were going to make headlines, she didn’t want it to be a picture of her barfing in her mom’s rosebushes.

Girls screeched, holding up I love Seconds to Juliet posters, while several cars maneuvered to park on her front lawn. Just stay calm. He’s probably a regular guy. No need to freak out.

It’s almost time, her mom whispered in her ear, giving her shoulder a squeeze. This is so exciting.

Mom was armed with a camera ready to take the obligatory Homecoming photos, which would likely adorn their walls forever. She’d baked a cake and had a professional cleaner come in to make sure the house was immaculate—not that Daisy thought for one second Trevin Jacobs would actually come inside. But they wanted to be prepared, just in case.

Tonight would be full of firsts for Daisy. Her first date. Her first high school dance. Her first brush with a celebrity. It was like this moment had been in the making forever. All the more reason she needed to make sure everything was perfect.

Time seemed to tick by slowly, each second giving Daisy more of a chance to worry—about her dress, her hair, her makeup, her breath…it was never-ending.

Daisy’s mom glanced at her watch again and frowned. Looks like he’s running late.

Probably the traffic. Daisy laughed, scanning the street for a limo, but instead she saw a delivery van park in the grass. A moment later, a courier climbed out and pushed through the crowd.

I’ve got a package for Daisy Morris. He held up a large envelope.

Right here, she said.

Just need you to sign for it. He produced a tablet and she quickly scribbled her name.

Her mom peeked over her arm. Who’s it from?

I have no idea. Maybe I should wait until after the dance to open it.

Come on. Mom grinned. Someone went to all this trouble to send it overnight delivery.

Oh God, maybe it was from Trevin. Like a secret romantic note to calm her nerves before he picked her up. She ripped open the cardboard and reached inside. There it was, a letter from Trevin Jacobs. She smiled, staring at the band’s letterhead. But her smile soon melted away. Her fingers trembled.

Dear Daisy,

I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. Someone canceled for the VMAs at the last minute and they need me to fill in as a presenter. Please find a signed headshot of myself to make up for it.

Sincerely,

Trevin Jacobs

Daisy stared at the letter for long moments, her eyes welling with tears. The picture slipped out of the envelope. A signed headshot? Seriously? It wasn’t even a real signature; it was one of those stupid manufactured ones. Same with the letter—it wasn’t handwritten or personal, just some fancy type of font to make it look real, to make it look like she mattered. He hadn’t even bothered to sign his name to the damn thing.

Daisy? Her mom touched her arm.

He’s not coming. He’s not flipping coming.

One of the reporters in the yard moved closer to the porch. Did Trevin Jacobs stand you up? He shoved a microphone in her face.

Oh my God, he totally ditched her. This is epic, Emma Lassiter said from the lawn, holding up her phone to get a picture of Daisy. I bet she made this whole thing up to get attention.

Camera flashes went off all around her. Daisy cringed, trying to duck out of view. Her lip trembled as another reporter pushed closer to the porch. She wanted nothing more than to have the floor swallow her up.

Can you tell us how you’re feeling? A woman holding a tape recorder maneuvered closer to her.

How she was feeling? Seriously? How did they think she felt? Without answering, she turned and bolted into the house.

This wasn’t happening. What would she say to everyone at school? What about the reporters and the news crews? Shit. By tomorrow, she’d be the laughingstock of the town. Hell, maybe even the world. Everyone had expected to see Trevin. And he didn’t show. What if they believed Emma and thought Daisy had made this whole thing up?

When she made it into the living room, Daisy sagged against the wall and glared at the photo of Trevin. How had she ever thought he was hot? And better yet, why did she ever consider for one second that he’d actually take her to homecoming?

Everything will be okay. Her mom followed after her and attempted to hug her.

No, it won’t. Didn’t you see everyone standing in our yard? Do you know how embarrassed I am? He ruined everything. A sob raked through her and she scrubbed her eyes against the back of her palm. She should’ve known someone like him wouldn’t really want to go on a date with someone like her. He’d probably seen a picture of her and decided she wasn’t pretty enough.

Maybe he’ll make it up to you, she said.

Daisy cried. He already did, or didn’t you see the picture he sent? Hands clenched at her sides, she rushed down to her room and slammed the door shut. Trevin Jacobs’s face surrounded her, staring at her with mocking, shit-colored eyes. She’d come here to get away from him, and now his damn pictures bombarded her. Her collection of posters, magazines, bedding—all of it hammering home the fact that she’d been stood up. The same way her dad did last year at Christmas and the year before that. The same way all the guys in her life did. Tears trailed down her cheeks like acid. What an asshole. What a fricking giant asshole. Daisy ripped the Seconds to Juliet posters from her wall and tossed them on the floor.

She screamed, stomping on them like they were an infestation of spiders. She glanced down at the signed picture once more and then tore it in half. He hadn’t even had the balls to call her. He’d known since yesterday he couldn’t make it, and he let her get all dressed up instead of sending her a letter, which was probably typed by his publicist or agent or someone. She’d bought a dress with money she didn’t really have—money her mom had helped her save to make tonight special. And he’d ruined everything. Her chest hurt so badly. Maybe there was something wrong with her that made all the guys want to stay away? Like she was un-dateable.

She stripped out of her dress and let it fall to the floor at her feet. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she rocked back and forth, as if that would make it better. But nothing would. There was no point in going to Homecoming now. She didn’t have a date, not to mention she didn’t want to deal with Emma’s nasty comments all night.

Never again would she fall for any boy. Trevin Jacobs or otherwise.

You, Trevin Jacobs, are going down. At that moment, she had no idea how she’d accomplish this, but she’d dig deep and use the same determination that had won her the contest to begin with.

And when she did, Trevin Jacobs would wish he’d never screwed her over.

Chapter One

Nine months later…

Lights pulsed onstage as girls screamed Trevin’s name. He smiled, pointing at a brunette girl in the first row. Girl, I just want you to know… You can kiss this, he sang, gesturing back to his mouth.

The girl reached up to touch his hand, and he bent down, letting his fingers graze hers. She screamed louder, her eyes welling with tears. When he pulled away, he felt her slip something into his palm, and he glanced down to see a pair of panties dangling from his fingers. Damn. Not another pair. His face burned. Someone could probably write a book about his cheeks called Fifty Shades of Red.

Ryder slid across the stage next to him and grinned at the underwear. No way would he live this down. Still holding the mike, Trevin quickly shoved the panties in his pocket. The drums pounded out and Ryder leaped back to his feet, humping the air in front of him and singing Kiss This.

The song ended, and Will moved to the front of the stage. Good night everyone—thanks for coming out…

They stood in a line and bowed, Ryder on one side of him and Miles on the other.

You’re blushing. Ryder nudged Trevin’s arm. If you don’t want the panties, maybe you can give them to Nathan.

Trevin rolled his eyes. Nathan was the youngest in the group and the most innocent. Plus, he wouldn’t be caught dead holding anyone’s panties. Trevin watched as Nathan’s ears turned pink, and he shook his head at Ryder.

What did I say? Ryder chuckled.

Do you need to ask? Trevin hurried offstage. They’d have just enough time to get out the door and onto the tour bus. Already, screaming fans were pouring out of the stadium. A few girls pushed toward them, but their bodyguard, Beau, quickly blocked the way.

Get a move on, guys—these girls mean business tonight. Beau held out his arms, moving them ahead.

Am I the only one who cringes every time I see our tour bus? Will asked, coming up beside Trevin.

Trevin glanced at the giant pictures of him and the guys, standing shirtless and posing like they were bad-asses. No. I kind of want to spray paint a shirt on me. My nipples look cold.

And cover up those gorgeous abs? The chicks love them. Ryder tore off his T-shirt and the girls in the crowd went wild. The mob pressed forward, nearly shoving Beau over. Here you go, Ryder shouted and threw his shirt into the thrashing group.

They squealed louder. It was like giving blood to piranhas. After a few minutes of pushing and shoving, the guys finally scrambled onto the bus.

All right, boys, we’re on to the next town, Beau said, leaning against the edge of a chair.

In case the rest of you missed it, Trevin was given another pair of panties tonight, Ryder said.

How many does that make now? Miles kicked off his shoes and slid off his belt.

Too many. Trevin attempted to run a hand through his dark hair. But the three tons of hair product the stylist had used held it in place.

Let me see them, Ryder said. Is it a sexy black thong or are we talking granny panties here?

I have no idea.

Wonder if the chick wore them before giving them to you. Ryder waggled his eyebrows.

You’re sick, you know that? Trevin ripped the undergarment from his pocket and tossed it in the trash, then hurried to the bathroom at the back of the bus to scrub off whatever germs now clung to his skin. What he wouldn’t give to have Ryder go back to his quiet, jerky self where he avoided everyone. But ever since he’d started dating Mia, he’d become more involved with the guys in the band.

When he came back out, Beau stood like a giant tank, watching everyone. He cleared his throat, his short red hair standing in spiky pieces. Don’t forget, tomorrow I’ve got to pick up my daughter at the airport. She’ll be joining us on tour.

Is she hot? Ryder asked.

Beau narrowed his gaze. You’d better not try anything with her.

Whoa, I was kidding. He held up his hands. I have a girlfriend, remember?

For your sake, I hope you were kidding, Beau said, before he went to sit up front with the bus driver.

Five bucks says she’s a dog… Ryder grinned at Trevin.

Don’t be an ass. If Ryder riled up Beau, their bus would turn into a giant boxing ring.

Ryder took a swig of water, sat down, put his feet up on the coffee table, and then said in a hushed tone, Trust me, she’ll probably use her dad’s connections to make a move on one of us.

Trevin frowned. Why do you assume every chick is out to scam us? Okay, so Ryder had massive trust issues, and in this business you never knew who might be trying to work what angle, but their bodyguard’s daughter? It’s Beau’s daughter, dude. No way would she be like that. He turned on the Xbox and handed one of the controllers to Miles. How about a little Black Ops Zombies?

Miles snorted. Sure, mate. But you remember how bad we got our arses handed to us last time, right?

With a smile, Trevin clicked on the video game map. Yeah, but this time we don’t have Ryder on our team.

Screw you. Ryder threw a pillow at Trevin’s face.

Will grabbed one of the other controllers. I’m in.

Trevin watched him for a moment. He’d been a lot more talkative lately, which was so un-Will-like. He shook his head and turned to Nathan. You wanna play, too?

Nah. I’ll just watch.

Is he even old enough to play that game? Ryder tossed his empty water bottle at Nathan. Isn’t it rated ‘M for Mature’?

If it’s M for Mature, that counts you out, doesn’t it? Laughing, Trevin sank back onto the couch and relaxed for the first time in days. They had the rest of the summer ahead of them. A new town every couple of days. Hanging out with friends and bandmates. Doing what he loved most in the world. This was what dreams were made of.

Maybe it wasn’t his exact dream. He’d hoped to be able to write more of his kind of music. So cookie cutter boy band didn’t exactly satisfy his musical tastes. But their records were selling big, and they were the hottest band out there right now. Just look how well things had gone in the last nine months. Their manager, LJ, had orchestrated an appearance at the VMAs for them—he’d completely surprised them the day of, flying them out to L.A. Not to mention getting their faces on the cover of Rolling Stone. Everything had finally fallen into place.

They just had to keep on track and stay focused.

…

The scent of tofu burgers assaulted Daisy as she pushed into the house, glad to be done with her last recycling run. It’d been hotter than hell today and she just wanted to collapse in front of a fan and drink twenty gallons of ice water. She took the wadded-up newspaper article from her pocket and tossed it in the trash. The one Emma had left taped to the outside of her locker. A last day of school send-off, she was sure. It’d been a copy of the original story from last autumn when Trevin had ditched her.

The whole school year had been like that. Bullies leaving her stupid notes and pictures and clippings of that horrible night. A constant reminder she couldn’t leave behind. There’d even been videos posted to her social media pages, which she deleted, but they kept getting reposted. Daisy thought things would blow over after a couple of weeks—that everyone would find something else to talk about, but in her small town she continued to be the biggest news.

One of the jocks had even given her the nickname Dump, which caught on like a wildfire in a drought. But, thank God, it was summer. Maybe things would finally die down over vacation.

Hey sweetie, her mom’s voice sounded from the deck.

Okay, what have you done with my mom? Daisy yelled from inside.

Her mom’s laugh rang through the house. What do you mean by that?

Um—you never cook, so what’s the special occasion? Daisy kicked off her flip-flops and tromped out onto the deck where her mom stood manning the grill.

Mom’s face lit up and she tossed the burgers onto a plate. Can’t I make you dinner without you getting suspicious? She’d totally avoided answering the question. Her eyes darted around the backyard, focusing on anything but Daisy.

Seriously, what’s going on? She followed her mom back into the dining room.

Mom set the food on the table. You like Dr. Bradley, right?

"Yeah, I guess, but you’ve only been dating him for a few months so I don’t know him that well—"

Mom squealed, hopping up and down like a drunk on a pogo stick.

Oh, God, you’re not engaged, are you? Daisy’s mouth went dry. It’d been just the two of them for so long. Not that she didn’t like Dr. Bradley—he was nice, if not kinda nerdy—but she already had one dad who didn’t come around. She didn’t need another.

No. It’s just, well, he—he asked if I’d go to Italy with him for a few weeks to meet his parents. But I can tell him no.

Wait, you mean just the two of you?

Mom’s face fell. It’s not that he doesn’t like you—he does—we just thought it’d be a nice way for us to get to know each other better. We’ve had some really great dates. But if you don’t want me to go…

Great. Daisy knew her mother never put herself first. And it wasn’t like she’d dated much since her parents divorced all those years ago. How could she be mad about her going away? With a sigh, Daisy rushed forward and hugged her. That’s great. I mean, what an amazing opportunity. I can ask if Lena’s parents will let me stay with them. Or maybe I can just stay here on my own and have Ms. Bennett from next door check in on me.

Mom’s smile faltered and she sat down. About that…

Oh. No. Daisy knew that look. Whatever Mom was about to say, she wasn’t going to like it.

I called your dad today. And, well, he said he’d love to take you for the summer.

What? You never talk to Dad. Besides, I thought he had some bodyguard gig.

H-he does. But he already got permission for you to tag along. I think you’ll have a lot of fun.

Who exactly is he working for? Her heart hammered in her chest. This wasn’t happening. All her summer plans to work on her recycling program in town went out the window in a single earth-shattering moment.

Actually… She rubbed her neck, looking uncomfortable. He’s traveling with Seconds to Juliet.

Are you serious? Daisy stared at her, waiting for the punch line.

Yes. I know it might seem like a bad idea, but you need to build a relationship with your father.

A bad idea? Hell no, it wasn’t. Her dad was working for Seconds to Juliet—which meant he had access to Trevin Jacobs. The Trevin Jacobs, who’d stood her up and made a fool of her. Who’d caused her a year’s worth of humiliation and teasing from her classmates. She’d been dreaming of her revenge for months, but she’d had no way to act on anything.

Until now.

Daisy smiled. "Mom, it’s fine, really. And you’re right; I