Текст книги "Cardinal"

Автор книги: Sara Mack

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Chapter Twenty

“Uh …” I stutter. I’m flustered by the famous celebrity pop star standing in front of me.

“You know,” she turns toward the mirror and checks her bright red lipstick, “Gunnar’s phone call surprised me. I didn’t think he’d keep my number.”

Wait. “Latson called you?”

She nods and turns to me, then pulls at the top of her strapless leather bustier. In fact, her entire outfit is leather. She’s got the body to pull it off, too. She reminds me of Anne Hathaway when she played Catwoman, but without the mask and ears.

“I don’t know who thought this was a good idea,” she says as she adjusts her chest. “I’ve got more double-stick tape going on than 3M.”

I suppress a laugh as her eyes comb over me.

“I’m jealous,” she continues. “You don’t have to worry about flashing an arena.”

“True.” I take a few steps toward her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t find a way to embarrass myself.”

She gives me half a smile and starts to back away from me. “Well, you’ve made it this far. You must’ve done a few things right.” She turns around and reaches for a guitar case propped against the wall. I don’t remember seeing it before.

“Whose is that?”

“Yours,” she says before placing it in my hands. “It was delivered to me with strict instructions to make sure it got safely to you.”

I’m confused. I take the case from her and set it on the vanity in front of the mirrors. Popping the latches, I open the lid to a familiar sight.

“No way,” I breathe as I stare at the Fender. It’s Latson’s. The same guitar he let me play the night of Dean’s show. There’s a folded piece of notebook paper tucked in the strings, and I wiggle it free.

 

So we can be on stage together.

She’s yours now. I know you’ll take good care of her.

You’ve got this, Little Bird. Knock ‘em dead.

 – Latson

I’m speechless. His gift is unexpected and over the top. Slowly, I run my fingers over the strings.

“Do you like it?” Ariel asks.

“Very much.”

“Then it looks like my job here is done. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

“Thank you.” I meet her eyes. “You didn’t have to be Latson’s delivery service.”

She smiles. “He thought if he sent it to Dean you might accidentally see it and ruin the surprise.”

“I don’t ruin surprises,” Dean’s voice sounds as he enters the room. “Ariel. How in the hell are ya?”

She opens her arms wide and squeals. “C’mere!  I need hugs!”

Dean wraps her tiny frame in his big arms. “Thank you so much for this. We’ll make you look good, I promise.”

“No worries. When that Australian boy band canceled I knew who I wanted to open for me.” She steps out of his embrace and hangs on to his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here!  It’s almost like old times.”

As the two of them reconnect, Paul appears by my side with his bass. “Hey. You want me to help you tune that thing?” His eyes dart to the Fender.

“Yeah.” I lift it out of the case. I swear the air around me changes the moment I slide the strap over my head. I position my fingers on the strings and Paul strums an E. With his tone as a reference, I strum the same note and then adjust the tuner. We go through all six strings and play the beginning of our opening number for good measure.

“Sounds good,” Ariel says. “I’ll be watching you guys.”  She starts to leave, but stops. “Oh, and I’ll see you after the show. You’re coming, right?  Never mind. I just made it mandatory. I’m at the Ritz. In the penthouse.” She gives us two thumbs up before disappearing out the door.

“After party?” I ask the guys.

Drew stops doing push-ups and wags his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah.”

Why is he on the floor?  “What are you doing?”

“Pre-show ritual,” he huffs. “Gotta get the blood flowing.”

Good to know.

I run my hand over the smooth face of my new guitar before I decide to give Latson a call. I want to let him know I got his gift. It’s unbelievable, and he shouldn’t have done it. I no more than tap his name on the phone when headset guy returns for a third time. He must get exhausted running back and forth all night.

“D.U. The stage is ready when you are.”

I swallow and hang up.

“Okay.” Dean looks at us. “Ready?”

Drew gets to his feet, and Paul slams the last of his Red Bull. They both walk toward Dean, so I do the same. We end up standing in a circle, and Dean puts his fist in the middle. Paul follows suit and so does Drew. I place my fist in last. It looks small next to the others.

“Tonight is the beginning of something I thought I’d never see,” Dean says. “I wasn’t sure I’d set foot on a tour again, let alone one this big. You all made that possible. We’ve put in the hours and we’ve practiced our asses off. Now, there’s only one thing left to do.” He looks each one of us in the eye. “Go out there and kill it.”

“Hell yeah!”  Paul pumps his fist in the air.

“Kill it!” Drew does the same.

“Let’s do this!” Dean says with the most excitement I’ve ever seen from him. He high-fives me, and then we file out the door.

When we get to the side of the stage, the place is swarming with crew. They descend upon us, attaching receiver packs to the backs of our clothing and helping us place our ear piece monitors. Dean and Paul are given their guitars, and another crew member tries to hand me mine until he sees the Fender in my hands.

“Change of plans?” he asks.

“Yes. Sorry. Is it a problem?”

“Nope. Here.” He hands me a few extra picks, and I slide them into my back pocket. “You’re all set.”

I give him a nod of thanks and suddenly Roxanne is in my face. “Nervous?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Well, snap out of it. You’re stepping on stage in less time than it takes to pour a cup of coffee.”

My expression twists. “Gee. Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

She gives me the first genuine smile I’ve ever received from her. “You don’t need any talk from me. I saw the effect you had on that girl at the meet and greet. I don’t know what you said to her, but she was grinning from ear to ear. I like it.” She leans closer. “Now go out there and show the boys how it’s done.”

I’m starting to like Rox a little more now.

Drew walks on to the darkened stage and I go with him. I find my place and plug into the sound system as he gets settled behind his kit. Paul joins us, and my eyes catch the first arena audience I’ve ever seen.

Now would be a good time to remember how to breathe.

My hand clutches the neck of my guitar as I stare. I can see the arena isn’t full by any means; however, a lot of people have found their seats. Other concert-goers wander the aisles trying to find their section and, closer to the stage, I see people returning to their friends carrying plastic cups. Drew hits the bass drum a few times and does a quick fill, testing the sound of his equipment. This gets the attention of the audience and, realizing something is about to happen, a small cheer erupts. The sound sends chills down my spine.

Paul gets my attention from across the stage. He tests a few chords, and I respond back on the Fender. Satisfied with the sound coming through the amps, he starts the bass line that will weave into our first song. In this big space, with this many speakers, you can almost see the notes vibrate through the air. On his cue, Drew jumps into the mix, pounding the drums in a familiar rhythm. Each hit resonates deep in my chest and I close my eyes, listening until the hair on the back of neck stands on end. It’s time for me to add the hook.

Taking a deep breath, I think of Latson and his faith in me. I think of Oliver, my brother, Jules, and everything that’s brought me here. I open my eyes and see Dean standing at the side of the stage, ready to make his entrance. I strike my first note.

And find absolute heaven.

~~~~

 

“Break free of the bonds

Break free of the chains

Own the blood

That runs through your veins

Love’s bigger than you

And it’s bigger than me

We’re breaking free, baby

We’re breaking free.”

 

I finish singing the chorus with Dean. “Breaking Free” is the last song of our set. As the final notes of our instruments fade, Dean sings the ending lines solo:

“There’s so much more out there to see

If love breaks one of us, let it be me.”

 

The crowd cheers as his voice drifts away.

“Thank you!” Dean says into the mic. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with his arm. “We’ve had a great time with you tonight, L.A. Now, who’s ready to see Ariel Allyn?” He puts his hand to his ear and the crowd roars. He looks over his shoulder at us, grins, and faces the audience once more. “That’s what we thought. It won’t be long now.”

He lifts one hand above his head in a wave, our signal to join him at the front of the stage. The guys and I leave our places to form a crooked line with him in the middle. Dean speaks, his voice echoing through the speakers. “Thanks for a great show, Los Angeles!  We’ll see you all again real soon.” I watch him take a small bow over his guitar and see Drew wave his sticks in the air. Paul and I wave too, and I know my smile consumes my face. So much adrenaline is pumping through my veins right now, I don’t know what I’ll do to contain myself once we’re off stage.

Speaking of off stage, as we exit, I catch a glimpse of Heidi and her friends near the front row. They’re being so loud they’re impossible to miss. Heidi must catch me watching because she shuts up for a second. I’m not close enough to see her eyes but I’m sure they’re shooting daggers at me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing can ruin this high.

Nothing.

As soon as we’re out of sight, the crew descends upon us again. We’re stripped of everything technical and electronic, and even the Fender finds its case. I’m confused as to how it got backstage, but I’m so geeked about the show I don’t care. People rush everywhere to transform the stage for Ariel, and I realize I should get out of the way. Dean is talking to Roxanne, so I start to head in that direction. Suddenly, strong arms wrap around my waist, stopping and startling me.

“You blew me away out there.”

His voice melts over my skin, warm and soft beneath my ear. I turn around and throw my arms around him. “You’re here!”

Latson grins before ducking his head to catch my mouth with his. It’s a greedy kiss, one I’ve missed, and I pull him closer by the back of his neck. He holds me tight, clutching my waist, as I press the length of my body against his. “Surprise,” he says when we take a breath.

This night couldn’t get any better. “How long have you been here?”

“Since we talked on the phone. I was in a cab when you called.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to distract you. Dean needed you focused.”

“He knew?”

“Who do you think sent me this?” He holds up a backstage pass. “It pays to grow up with the lead singer.”

I look at the plastic and get hopeful. “Please tell me that’s good for tomorrow, too.”

“Definitely. Oliver is staying with Mrs. Gibson until you leave for Anaheim.”

I bounce up and down on my toes, then pull him toward me and kiss him again. I get to keep him for two whole nights.

“So, how do you feel?” Latson searches my face. “How was your first show?”

“It was …”  I can’t find words. I don’t think anything I say will do the experience justice. “It consumed me.”

He gives me a gentle, knowing smile and brushes his thumb across my cheek. “You were incredible.”

Dean appears beside us. “I see you found each other.” He looks pointedly at me. “I promised you’d be together soon.”

“You did,” I say. “Thanks for delivering.”

“C’mon.” He waves us forward. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

“Up to the label’s private suite. Ariel said we could watch her perform from there.”

He walks away and my jaw drops. I had hoped I would get to see some of Ariel’s show, especially after being attacked by her props.  I assumed if I did it would be from the television in the dressing room or some other obscure location, not a suite. Excited, I start to follow Dean until Latson takes my hand and stops me.

“Hey.”

I face him. “What’s up?”

“Do you really want to watch Ariel?”

“Yes. Don’t you?”

He looks confused. “Isn’t there anything else you’d rather do?”

“Like what?” I know this scene is nothing new to him, but it’s shiny and sparkly to me. “I’ve never seen her perform before. I’ve also never been in a private suite. It sounds like fun.”

Latson looks disappointed, then shakes the expression away. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

“What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He starts to walk. “Sometimes I forget our experiences are different. Just because you’re on tour doesn’t mean you’ve seen it all.”

We make it out of the backstage area and into the hallway I took from the dressing room. We look left and right until we see Dean waving to us from an elevator. Once we make it inside, Latson’s fingers tighten around mine.

“So, what’d you think?” Dean turns toward Latson. “Did you notice we changed the end of “Over-Exposed”?”

“I did,” he says. “I know that transition was bothering you. The show was epic, man. A great start.”

“I thought so, too.” Dean runs his hand through his hair and gives Latson a resigned smile. “It felt like Vegas. Remember?”

Latson’s eyes go blank for a second. If I didn’t know him so well I wouldn’t have noticed. He quickly adjusts his features and nods. “Yeah. I remember.”

The elevator stops and we exit. I let Dean get a few steps ahead of us before I ask Latson, “What happened in Vegas?”

“We opened our first tour there. It was Sacred Sin’s first concert as a headliner.”

Mentally, I frown. I understand why Dean would compare his first concert with the Union to his first with Sin, but didn’t he realize it would bother Latson?  I try to lighten things up. “I bet it was a rush,” I say and then pull on Latson’s hand. He leans over. “But nothing compared to tonight,” I whisper. “Hands down, Vegas blows L.A. out of the water.”

He kisses me.

When we arrive at the suite, Roxanne, Drew, and Paul are already congregated by a small bar just off the entrance. The room is filled with people I don’t know, some of whom are already seated outside on the suite’s private balcony. The place resembles a tiny apartment, with a bathroom, the wet bar, and a bunch of overstuffed furniture. A flat screen mounted from the ceiling in one corner broadcasts the empty stage below, and a variety of hors d’oeuvres are set out on a small dining table.

“There they are!” Paul gets loud. “Get your asses over here and do a shot with us.” He hands Dean a glass filled with amber liquid, then me, and then Latson. “Gunnar!  How in the hell are ya?” Paul thumps Latson on the back. Then, he holds up his glass and we all follow suit. “To the Renegade tour!  May the groupies be hot, Betty be swift, and the music rock!”

“Hear!  Hear!”  Glasses clink together.

I sniff my shot before I send it down my throat. It smells like whiskey; I bet it’s a Three Wise Men. I toss it back and grimace. Yep. I was right.

I hand my glass back to the bartender. “Who’s Betty?” I ask no one in particular.

“The tour bus.” Latson stares at his empty glass. “We always named them Betty.”

Jesus. Couldn’t they have come up with another name?

“Let’s go get seats,” I suggest and pull on his arm. “I’d rather sit out on the balcony than in here.”

“Gunnar?  Is that you?”

A man dressed in a button down and jeans approaches. His dirty blonde hair is styled, and he flashes a perfect white smile.

“Caleb,” Latson says. I can sense the irritation in his tone, and, judging by the size of the Rolex on Caleb’s wrist, I assume he’s with the record label.

“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head in disbelief. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, you know. Here and there.”

“I thought you fell off the face of the earth.”

“Nah,” Latson gets sarcastic. “I just disappeared from music.”

Caleb’s smile disappears. “You know my hands were tied.”

“Yep. That’s what you said two years ago.” Latson sets his shot glass down on the bar and pushes it forward with two fingers. “It’s good to know you’re sticking with the same story.”

The record exec looks uncomfortable as Latson turns to me. “Let’s find those seats you wanted.” He sets his hand against my back and starts to usher me toward the balcony.

“Jen Elliott, right?”

I give Caleb a questioning look. “Yes?”

“I caught your set. Dean was smart to bring you aboard. I look forward to working with you.”

I cross my arms. “And you are?”

“Oh, forgive me.” He plasters on a smile and extends his hand. “Caleb Jackson. I work for Snare Records.”

I shake his hand to be polite. “I thought Dean hadn’t signed with a label.”

“He hasn’t. Not yet. But we’re interested. If the tour goes well, I think we can offer him a pretty sweet deal.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I say. “I’m just here to play.”

Caleb tilts his head toward me. “I like your attitude.”

Latson presses his hand firmly against my back to get me moving and I nod goodbye to Caleb. As we walk toward the sliding doors that lead to the seating, Latson says, “If Dean signs with that asshole I’ll kill him.”

I glance back at Caleb who’s now talking with Roxanne. “Why?”

Latson’s hard eyes meet mine. “Caleb is Levi’s brother.”

Chapter Twenty One

Lying on my side, I prop my head against my hand and stare at Latson. He’s sleeping on his back with the starchy white hotel sheets pushed to his waist. My eyes roam upward, over his bare chest, his face, and his arm that’s slung over his head against the pillow. He looks peaceful and content, a far cry from what he was last night. I thought after we left the concert and got away from the record people he would relax. He didn’t. He seemed just as stressed during Ariel’s after party.

I wanted to talk about what was bothering him, but the Ritz wasn’t the place. The atmosphere was too loud and too busy; there were people everywhere. Dancers, friends, band members, crew, roadies, and, of course, Heidi. Avoiding her death stare was impossible whenever she was in the same room. When we left the party and got back to my hotel, I could tell how tense Latson was by the way he kissed me and the way his hands roamed my skin. He was rough and demanding, which I didn’t mind because I’ve missed him and I wanted him as much as he wanted me. As time passed, the more tender he became. Before we fell asleep he was back to the sweet, teasing, unhurried Latson I remember.

Without warning, his eyes open and he blinks a few times. “Hey.” He starts to smile but ends up covering a yawn. “I felt you staring.”

“You did?  How?”

“It’s a side effect of living with a kid.” He reaches for me and I slide over, winding myself around his body. “If I’m asleep and Oliver’s awake, he’ll stare at me until I wake up, too. It’s like a sixth sense.”

I remember staring at my sleeping parents when I was young, especially around the holidays. “I used to do that. My brothers would always send me into our parent’s bedroom because I was the youngest. I finally put a stop to it when I was twelve. I mean, Pete was eighteen for crying out loud.”

Latson laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can imagine your little determined face.”

“Well …”  I drift off. “My brothers had to grow up sometime. I know they were excited about Christmas morning, but come on.”

Latson squeezes me in a one-armed hug. “I started to get excited about Christmas again after my sister died. I wanted to make the first one special for O. Now, I get just as excited as he does. There’s something to be said for playing the man in red.”

I never thought about it that way before. I’ve never been around a kid to surprise on Christmas, and my eyes light up. “Can I help this year?  I can be an elf.”

He scrutinizes me. “Hmmm. You’re a little tall and your ears aren’t very pointy. I guess it depends on how you look in green tights.”

I shove his chest. “You know I can totally rock green tights.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss me. “I’m sure you can.”

When he settles back against the pillow, I snuggle closer to his side. “I’m glad you’re in a better mood. I don’t like it when you’re grumpy.”

He exhales with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to see any of those people last night. I only wanted to spend time with you.”

My face falls. I should have realized the environment would be difficult for him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you where you didn’t want to go.”

He runs the tips of his fingers up and down my back. “Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have let things get to me. Last night was your night.”

I give him a tiny smile, and he pushes my hair behind my ear. “So. You’ve been christened. First show, first suite, first after party. You’re officially a rock star.”

I laugh. I’m not, but I felt like one. “You were right. Nothing compares to performing. I’m glad you talked me into it.”

He shakes his head. “You would have done it regardless. Pete or Jules would have convinced you. Or your parents. Have you talked to them?  What do they think?”

“They sounded thrilled over the phone. They’re planning to come to the last show, since the tour ends in Detroit. You should come, too, and meet them.”

Latson’s brow jumps. “You want me to meet your parents?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve already met your dad.”

He’s silent as he studies me.

“What?”

“I’m a tattooed ex-musician raising his nephew. What are they going to think?”

“They’re going to think you’re stepping in for the father Oliver never had.” I push my body up and partially over him, so we’re face to face. “They’re also going to realize you employ my brother, who makes a decent living. I guarantee they’re going to think I’m happy and you’re amazing.”

A slow smile spreads across his lips before they’re inches from mine. “In that case,” he kisses me, “I’ll definitely meet your parents.”

“You will?” I whisper. The thought gives me butterflies. “I guess this means we’re serious, then.”

“Were we ever not?” His hands slide down my back and find the bottom of my shirt. They slip underneath and start to trace my spine. “The minute I saw you dancing I was serious about you.”

“No.” I smirk. “You were horny. There’s a difference.”

He laughs. “Is that why you think I asked you to work for me?”

“No. You needed me because I have mad bartending skills.”

His eyes light up and he shakes his head no. My mouth falls open. “I do have mad bartending skills!”

“You do. But my real motivation …”  He stops following my spine and removes his hands from beneath my shirt. He runs them up into my hair, cradling the back of my head. “My real reason was to get close to you. I had to find a way to spend time with you, to get to know you.”

I study his chocolate brown eyes and my heart pounds. “Let me guess. Next you’re going to tell me you lost Oliver at the aquarium on purpose.”

“Hell, no. Running into you there was a coincidence. A very lucky coincidence.”

“You’re telling me,” I say. “I think O stole my heart the minute I heard his little voice. If he had asked the wrong person for help …”

I shudder at the thought before Latson pulls me close. “I think fate stepped in that day.”

“Or maybe it was Audrey.”

I hadn’t thought of the possibility until now, and Latson’s expression softens. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

I smile before his lips gently brush over mine. Before we can take things further, my phone sounds with a reminder.

“Ugh,” I groan. “I have to get moving.”

“What’s on the schedule for today?”

I roll off him and on to my back, reaching for my cell. “Brunch with Roxanne. She wanted to get together after the first show to discuss any changes.”

“Are you meeting anyone else?”

I silence the reminder. “The guys will be there. Why?”

“Not Caleb?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. Last night was the first time I’d ever heard of him.” I sit up and set my phone back on the table next to Oliver’s drawing. “He really gets under your skin, doesn’t he?”

Latson scrubs his face with the palm of his hand. “Yeah. He does.”

I pull my legs beneath me and adjust my expression, to let him know I’m waiting for an explanation. He rolls his eyes.

“I told you Caleb is Levi’s brother.”

“So, he’s guilty by association?”

He sighs. “He’s also the record exec who had the final say in dropping my band from the label. He chose to believe the tabloids and his asshole brother instead of me.”

I vaguely remember some of the headlines I read during my Google search. “How did the press get wind of the situation anyway?”

“Levi. He hates me just as much as I hate him. He was there when I –” Latson catches himself, his mouth forming a thin line. “Levi twisted the truth and took it to people who would listen. Then, my dad got involved and wanted custody of Oliver.” Latson grimaces. “So, yes. Caleb getting under my skin is an understatement. He ended my career.”

The more I learn about Latson’s past the more I think Audrey ended his career. Everything he’s dealt with has stemmed from her decisions. I keep my mouth shut, though. Bad mouthing his dead sister is probably not the best idea.

Instead, I crawl over to his side and hover above him. “People are shitty and I hate that you’ve been hurt.”

“I hate that we’re talking about this.” He sits up straight and reaches for me. “I have one more night with you. Let’s not ruin it by talking about my past.”

I agree and end up in his lap. “No parties after the show tonight either,” I add. “Just us.”

He smiles. “Just us. On a date.”

I shoot him a curious look.

“I thought we could sight-see, if you’re up for it,” he says. “How much of L.A. have you visited since you’ve been out here?”

“Lemme think.” I set my finger against my chin in pretend thought. “Barely any.”

“Good. After you play we’re headed to see the Hollywood sign.”

“Yeah?” I can’t stop my grin.

“And then we can go wherever we want. The Hollywood Walk of Fame is close. I’d take you shopping on Rodeo Drive, but I think most stores will be closed by then.”

Talk about expensive. “I don’t need anything from Rodeo Drive.” I set my hand against Latson’s cheek. “I have everything I need right here.”

He lowers his gaze to my mouth. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Where have you been all of mine?”

He gives me my favorite lopsided dimple smile before kissing me senseless. We may only have the next twenty-four hours together, but we’re going to make them count.

~~~~

“Let me help you with that, darlin’.”

“Thanks, Beau.”

I hand our driver my guitar case as I haul myself up the steps of the tour bus. I keep my acoustic with me between cities because it gives me something to do besides watch movies and sleep.

“Y’all alone?  Where are the boys?”

“They’re on their way. You know how it is.”

The fifty-nine-year-old ex-bull rider scowls at me. “If I told you once I told you a thousand times. Stop walkin’ your tail out to the bus in the dark after shows. You hear me?  It’s not safe.”

I reach up and playfully flick the brim of his Stetson. Beau has become a surrogate father of sorts. “You want to talk about safe?  How can you watch the road wearing this thing?  I can barely see your eyes.”

“Are you sassin’ me?”

“Don’t I always?”

He hands me my guitar case with an exasperated sigh, and I grin. “Frowning like that with give you wrinkles,” I warn him. “You need to keep that face pretty for the ladies.”

He chuckles. “There’s only one lady I’m interested in seein’ and she’s at our next stop.”

“Then I’ll go get comfortable.” I adjust my backpack on my shoulder. “We can’t be late for your date in Dallas.”

He winks at me before I wander back to my bunk. The bus sleeps eight, and my “room” is below Roxanne’s. When I first boarded the tour bus in L.A., my immediate thought was it looked like a motorhome on steroids. The front lounge holds opposing couches, a small table, a mounted flat screen, and a kitchenette. Our bunks are located in the middle of the bus, and another small lounge, along with the bathroom, resides in the back.

Pulling the curtain to my bunk aside, I toss my things on my bed. It’s hard to believe I left Los Angeles three weeks ago. We just played Denver, and in an hour we’ll be headed south to Texas. Time is flying, but I’m enjoying it. My only regret is I haven’t seen Latson since the first show. We talk daily, and I’ve been waiting for him to surprise me again. I have to remind myself that he said his visits would be few and far between.

Before I get comfy in my sweats for the long ride, I grab my phone and send him a message: Bye bye Rocky Mountain High. Hello Lone Star State.

He responds quickly. Say hi to the Cowboys cheerleaders for me ;)

I scoff. In your dreams.

Footsteps and greetings to Beau at the front of the bus make me look up. The guys are here.

“I need a beer,” Drew says, stopping at the mini fridge. He opens the door and pulls out a Miller Light.

“Me, too,” Paul says as he plops down on the couch. Dean joins him and adds, “Me, three.”

“Jen?” Drew holds the refrigerator door open. “You want one?”

“Sure,” I say and catch the can Drew tosses me. It’s Angry Orchard, my new favorite. “Thanks.”

As quickly as Paul sat, he stands and looks around. “Where’s the remote?  I know there’s a game happening somewhere.”

Dean pulls the control from beneath his butt and turns on the TV. It looks like it’s going to be another typical night on the bus. Beer and baseball until everyone gets tired and crawls into their bunks. Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad the guys save the parties for hotels, when we stay a few nights in one city.

Popping the top to my can, I ask, “Where’s Roxanne?”

The boys look at one another and shrug. “I thought she was with you,” Dean says, looking toward the back of the bus.

“Nope.” I lift the curtain to her bunk. “She’s not here.”

“Well, your guess is as good as mine.” He turns back to the television. Paul’s found ESPN and they’re recapping a Detroit Tigers game from earlier today. Go team, I silently think in support of my home state.

I set my drink down and open my backpack, locating the cozy clothes I left out of my suitcase. I walk to the bathroom and change, then brush my teeth and wash my face. I pull my hair back in a loose pony. It takes almost thirteen hours to get from Denver to Dallas, and that’s if we don’t stop. When I fall asleep tonight, I want to crash without having to wake up and wiggle out of tight jeans.

Just as I settle in my bunk with my guitar across my lap, I hear Roxanne’s excited voice from the front of the bus. I lean to the side and stick out my head to see what’s going on.