She straightens her spine, looking like a proud momma kangaroo. “Talk it over with Greg but I think you should consider it. Wouldn’t that be something? Your face at every checkout counter back home?”
“Oh. Yay.” I lift my fist in the air with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. Momma rolls her eyes at me and sips her coffee.
Rooster’s phone chimes, and he quickly shuts it off. “Ready to head to the airport, Lynn?”
“Oh, thank the Lord you were paying attention.” She glances at her phone. “I totally forgot what time it was.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Jigsaw says casually.
Rooster side-eyes him. “You hate being in the truck.”
“But I love your big, ugly face,” Jiggy says, while slapping Rooster’s cheeks and making kissy lips at him.
“Jensen, will you help me grab my bags from the front desk?” my mother asks, ignoring their display of brotherly affection.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rooster shakes his head as they walk off together. “He promised he’d behave.”
“My momma can handle him. Don’t worry.”
He glances down at me. “I’d rather not end up with him as my step-father-in-law one day.”
I snort at the absurdity of that idea. “I’m like ninety-nine percent certain she has no plans to remarry. Ever. And I don’t feel like Jiggy’s a big proponent of marriage either.”
The implications of what he actually said don’t hit me until later.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rooster
At least Lynn’s departure is more pleasant than her arrival. No more complaints about me—or at least none that I overhear.
“I made sure I talked you up every chance I got,” Jigsaw assures me with a smug expression as we watch Shelby and her mom tearfully hugging goodbye at the airport security gate.
“Thanks. Exactly what I need.”
“She’s a feisty one.” Jigsaw rubs his chin, still focused on Shelby’s mom.
“Can you please not eyeball my girlfriend’s mother?”
“Why? She’s a fine woman. Meant to be appreciated. Like wine.”
“You’re a beer drinker. Appreciate her from a distance.”
“A man’s taste develops, you know.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble.
“Bye!” Lynn waves to us one final time before heading through the metal detectors.
Shelby turns our way, sniffling and wiping her eyes. When she’s close enough, I pull her into my arms. She presses her face against my chest and lets me hold her for a few minutes.
“Aww,” Jigsaw mouths, forming a heart with his thumbs and index fingers.
“Asshole,” I mouth back over Shelby’s head.
“I’m surprised your mom doesn’t want to be on the road with you, Shelby,” Jigsaw says.
She pulls away. “Bite yer tongue. I love my momma but I’d never go onstage again if I had her nitpicking at me every dang night.” She scowls. “‘Your hair’s too long. Why don’t you have more costume changes? More makeup. Less makeup.’ No effing thank you.”
Jigsaw’s mouth opens, then closes. “I thought she made your dresses?”
“Some of ’em, yup. And I’m damn proud to wear ’em onstage too. Then send her pictures.”
Chuckling, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and steer her toward the exit. Jigsaw falls into step beside me. “So, what’s our plan today?”
I throw a glance at him after the word “our.” “I wasn’t aware we had plans.”
“That’s why I was asking, dickface. Unless you need me, I’m gonna check out of the hotel and stay at Ice’s until we’re ready to hit the road.”
“Good idea. I still need to finish some stuff for him.”
“I can do that for you, brother.”
“Thanks.”
Shelby seems lost in thought, not adding anything to our discussion. I wait until we’re back at the hotel to ask her what she wants to do.
“Whatever you need.” She gestures toward the door to our room. “I’m sure all this stuff has put you behind.”
“Don’t worry about that.” I drop down on the edge of the bed, running my hands over my jeans, carefully considering my next question. “You want to go look for some luggage maybe?”
She taps her fingers against her thigh. “I didn’t think of that. Where’d all the rest of my stuff end up?”
“I think Greg and Trent shoved everything in some plastic bags and tossed it in the van.”
“Shoot. All my clothes are gonna be wrecked.” She moves closer and drops down onto the bed next to me, staring straight ahead. “I can’t…I’ll miss my trunk. I’ve had it forever, but I don’t think I’ll ever look at it the same way again. Although I’m sure the FBI don’t plan to give it back any time soon.” She flashes a pained smile. “You’re right. I need a suitcase or something. But no luggage I can fit inside of.”
It’s too early for me, but I’m glad she’s able to joke about it a little. I reach over and take her hand. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Think we can find a Walmart or something around here?”
“We can do better than that. You need something sturdy for all the traveling you’re doing.”
“I can’t afford sturdy.”
For now, I let it go. Shelby’s proud and I respect that. But she’s dating the wrong man if she thinks I’m not going to take care of her needs.
“Let me fix my hair and then I want to track Greg down to find out where my stuff is.”
“All right.” While she’s in the bathroom, I pull out my phone and google luggage for touring musicians. I search through a few suggestions, finally deciding a hard-side case with spinning wheels will probably work best for her. The one that’s rated the highest even comes in Caribbean Blue. Looks close enough to Shelby’s favorite color—electric teal.
Done.
Next, I search for any locations near us that actually has the set. One of the malls has it, so while Shelby’s still occupied, I give the store a quick call to confirm they have each piece and ask the salesperson to set them aside for me.
Luggage issue solved.
“All ready.” Shelby drifts over, brushing her leg against mine. “Who were you talking to?”
I click my phone off. “No one. Ready to go?”
Suspicion glitters in her eyes but she nods.
“How do you feel about staying at the clubhouse tonight?” I ask. “Ice said they’re having a party and strongly hinted he’d like to see my face.”
“Sure. Of course.”
I pack the few things I brought with me. Shelby gathers her stuff and meets me at the door.
Greg lets us onto the van to grab Shelby’s stuff. I drag the garbage and tote bags over to the truck.
“My dresses are a wreck.” Shelby paws through one of the giant plastic bags, sighing and frowning at the jumble of clothes.
The other bag must have all her shoes in it. It’s lumpy and already has heels and toes poking through the sides. Now that I have a better idea of how much stuff she has, I consider calling the store back to see if they have two sets of the Caribbean Blue hard-side cases.