Greg gnaws on his bottom lip for a second. Too bad if he doesn’t appreciate the question. I have no intention of allowing anyone to exploit every creepy and grotesque moment of my ordeal so the general public can get their jollies at my expense. No way. I won’t relive the most terrifying moments of my life over and over to boost my career.
“We’ll vet the offers carefully, Shelby. I won’t advise you to accept any if we don’t think they’ll be respectful.”
Yeah, sure. I’ve heard that before. “I’ll tell you right now, any shock jocks can go take a suck.”
He flashes a tight smile. “Noted.”
“Morning, Shelby.” Even though I recognize Trent’s voice, I jump about a mile when his hand lands on my shoulder.
“Jesus,” I yelp.
“Nope, just me,” he teases, not questioning my overreaction.
“You guys have the space until eleven,” Greg says. “You sure you’re ready for this, Shelby?”
“Do I have a choice?”
His mouth works, like he’s trying to form an answer that won’t piss me off. I am being pretty awful this morning. I can’t seem to help it, though.
“Come on.” Trent takes my arm. “I have something I want to play for you.”
“All right.” I follow him to the small, raised platform. Kenny and Abram meet us, dishing out hugs and kind words. My bass player and drummer aren’t usually so touchy-feely and their effusive greetings further unbalance me.
Abram has his sticks but no one bothered to bring his drum kit inside. Interesting rehearsal this will be.
Trent strums three chords in D minor.
“Kinda melancholy.” It’s not the most popular chord to write songs in. Definitely not in country music. It matches my mood, though.
“Something I was playing with…while you were…gone.” His earnest emotion tugs at me. We’ve known each other a long time.
I reach over and press my hand to his. “You know you’ll never get rid of me.”
He lifts his gaze, staring at me long enough that I twitch, regretting the attempt at a joke. “Your man knew what to do right away. I hesitated. He didn’t. Went after that van like wildfire.”
I’m not exactly sure what he’s trying to tell me but I sense guilt of some sort. “I’m glad you didn’t. I’d be upset if you got hurt.”
He cringes and looks down.
Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.
Maybe I’m not ready to hear what he’s trying to tell me.
He strums the same three chords, then moves on to a chord progression in C major. After a few notes, I recognize one of my favorite Carly Simon songs. I’ve sung You’re So Vain a million times. Know the words by heart. Normally, I’d jump right in.
But I’ve got nothing today.
“I know it’s been covered a bunch of times, but you could really do this justice,” Trent says as the last note fades.
“Nothing will ever top Faster Pussycat’s version.”
He snort-laughs. This has been a frequent argument of ours for years. The bit of normalcy feels like an inside-out sweater today.
I reach out and flick his hair. “What’s with the baby manbun?”
He cups the back of his head. “What’re you talking about? This is in. The chicks have been digging it.”
“Yeah? You get lucky in Virginia?”
“A gentleman doesn’t tell.”
I glance around. “I don’t see any here.”
“We rehearsing or not?” Kenny shouts.
I cough and rub my throat. “I’m still…my voice is pretty raw. You guys go ahead. I’ll listen in.”
It’s only a tiny white lie. My voice isn’t raw—it’s gone. Along with my muse. All I can picture is opening my mouth and nothing coming out. Not sure how I’m supposed to go back on the road like this.
My mom brings me a cup of tea and a packet of honey. “See if that helps, baby.”
“Thanks.” My eyes well up and I will away the tears before anyone notices.
Damn, this sucks. My mood’s all over the place this morning. One horrible event seems to have turned me into different people trying to co-exist inside the same skin. I hate it. Hate this timid girl who jumps at her shadow. Hate the emptiness inside me.
Most of all, I hate the missing music.
Chapter Twenty-One
Shelby
“Well, that was pointless.” I sigh and drop into a chair outside the hotel’s coffee shop upstairs.
“The band sounds good. Trent’s grown up an awful lot. He looks so professional now.” My mother sips her coffee and wrinkles her nose, reaching for another packet of sugar. “How do you feel?”
Scared. Out of body. Like I’ve aged ten years in the last few days. “Okay.”
She stretches over the table and brushes my hair from my shoulder. “Your hair’s getting so long. I wish you had more people attending to you on the road.”
I tug at the ends of my hair, still wavy from braiding it last night. “I like it. Besides, it’s all mine. I’d hate having to stick extensions and stuff in every night.”
“Well, I hope you’re using a good heat-protecting spray or something on it,” she says, still studying me.
“I use whatever Cindy has and try avoid heat on my days off.”
“Good.”
“Is my hair really what you want to talk about before you go home?”
She shifts her gaze from my hair to my face. “I’m just disappointed. I always thought things would be more, I don’t know…glamorous for you out on the road. That you’d be traveling with rolling racks of fabulous wardrobes, have a large entourage, a bus with your face—”
My whole world tilts on its axis. This is the last damn conversation I want to have after my bust of a rehearsal. Momma chose the wrong day to unravel this particular ball of yarn. “Nothing I do will ever be good enough for you, will it?”
“That’s not what I meant at all, honey.”
The hell it isn’t. “Not many artists tour that way these days. I’m still so new to the business. But I’m doing what I love. Can’t that be enough?”
“I want the best of everything for you.”
I’m sure she believes that, so I let it go.
“I like Trinity. I think it’ll be good for you to have a female friend of sorts on the road with you.”
“Yeah, and her husband’s hella scary, so hopefully his presence keeps the wackos at bay.”
Her mouth twists with worry. Shoot, maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up right before she leaves. But hell, the whole reason we’re even sitting here is because of the kidnapping…abduction? I’m hardly a kid, so kidnapping feels weird. Goddamn, I wish I’d kicked that bastard in the balls while I had the chance.
“I am glad Rooster and some of his brothers will be protecting you the rest of the tour,” she says.
I have to pick my jaw up off the table.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She huffs and fixes her blouse. “I still think you’re too young to settle down.”