Look out world, Shelby Morgan’s back, surrounded by bikers, and taking no shit!
Chapter Thirty-Six
Shelby
We’ve missed so many dates—most of the Southeastern Coast leg of the tour, to be exact—but Dawson was able to reschedule the one in Atlanta, so that’s where my triumphant return to the stage ends up.
It’s a sultry night. Everyone’s excited. Backstage is bursting with people—new security people, Dawson’s regular road crew, Rooster’s club brothers.
Still, I’m shaking in my boots when the time comes to make my entrance.
Deep breath.
Walk out with your head held high.
Trent nods as I pass him and my lips quiver into something that I doubt looked all that reassuring.
I should be excited to be back on stage, right?
All my armor’s in place—makeup, hair, dress, boots, microphone—but as I stare out into the crowd, I can’t open my mouth. What if another wacko is out there waiting to attack?
I open my mouth but can’t follow through.
The band keeps playing even though I’ve missed my cue.
My mouth opens.
No sound comes out.
This is bad.
I’m better than this. The urge to stamp my foot in frustration sizzles down my leg. Instead, I beam at the crowd. My smile falters, some people are startin’ to look at me a lil’ funny.
I glance over my shoulder. Rooster’s waiting, blocking the entrance to the stage. Murphy’s inconspicuously tucked into a corner—well, as inconspicuously as someone his size can be—his black leather cut almost blending into the stacks of equipment, light glinting off his dark red hair. My gaze pings to the right. Wrath and Pants are stationed on the opposite side of the stage. Wrath’s heavily muscled and tattooed arms are crossed over his broad chest, his gaze scanning the crowd while Pants’ bulky frame blocks the entrance to the stage.
I turn to Rooster. He flashes a confident smile, nods, and gives me a thumbs up. “You’ve got this,” he mouths.
I glance at the space below the stage reserved for photographers and other show workers. Trinity’s crouched with her camera, aimed and ready. Heidi stands behind her, weighed down with two bags of equipment, alert and waiting, cheeks pink with excitement.
An awful lot of people here to watch me choke.
So much for my victorious return to the stage after my “horrible ordeal,” as Miranda keeps calling it.
The more I worry about embarrassing myself, the harder it gets to open my mouth.
Finally, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Sometimes your white knight rides a Harley,
Sometimes he saves you from drowning
When you’re only in three feet of water…
I’ve had a lot of dreams come true,
But none as sweet as your rescue
Hello, stranger,
Am I in danger?
Only of losing my heart,
I knew it from the start
Soon I’ll be singing in different towns,
And you’ll give some other girl your crown
I knew I was in danger,
Of losing my heart to a stranger…”
As the last words leave my lips, I stand in the middle of the stage, head bowed, absorbing the crowd’s appreciation. The realization of how much my life has changed since I wrote “White Knight” washes over me.
I haven’t lost my heart. I’ve given it freely and willingly to a man who supports me without reservation.
In fact, there’s a damn good chance I wouldn’t be on this stage tonight if it wasn’t for Rooster.
I tip my head to the side and find him still standing in the same spot. Now he’s clapping and cheering as loudly as any member of the audience.
“I love you,” I mouth the words slowly so he can catch each one.
“Love you too!” he shouts.
Laughing, I turn back to the crowd and raise my arms over my head. “Thank you so much! How y’all doing tonight?!”
I pull the microphone from its stand and pace a few steps to the left. “Phew! It feels good to be here!”
A wave of shrill whistles and screams from the audience enthusiastically agrees.
After I banter a little more with the crowd, the band launches into “Big Lies.”
This time, I don’t miss my cue.
We run through my short set list and by the end, my cheeks ache from smiling so much.
I’m okay. I did it! I survived.
Waving to the crowd, I run off the stage, right into Rooster’s waiting arms.
“You were amazing!” he shouts.
“I almost choked.” I bury my face against his chest.
He wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Couldn’t tell. Just sounded like you were giving the band an extra-long intro for the song.”
I pull back and stare at the hard line of his jaw. Teasingly, I jab my finger in his stomach to lighten him up. “So you could tell.”
His serious expression doesn’t shift. “Only because I know you and I’ve watched you perform the song. No one in the crowd noticed. And if they did, fuck ’em. I’d like to see any of ’em get back on stage so soon after what you just went through.”
“Good show.” Murphy walks over to us and gently pats my back. “Atlanta loves you.” He points toward the sliver of the crowd visible from back here to a group of people holding up a huge sign proclaiming, “Atlanta’s got Shelby Morgan’s back.”
Between the bright lights and the anxiety over screwing up the show, I’d been blinded to everything in the crowd. Now, I’m able to stop and observe the little details I missed. “That’s so sweet.” I duck my head, heat stinging my cheeks. My gaze swings between Murphy and Rooster.
“Thanks for sticking around. I felt so much better knowing you guys were here.” Working for free, I add to myself. But Rooster’s said over and over, it’s a non-issue, so I won’t bring it up again.
Wrath ambles up to our small group, holding Trinity’s hand. Heidi runs up to Murphy, excitedly sharing her experience in the “pit.”
Rooster checks his phone. “I need to go check out the meet-and-greet room.” He glances up at Wrath and then Murphy. “Stick with her?”
They agree. Rooster gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off with Jigsaw and Dex.
“Can I ask you something, Shelby?” Wrath rumbles. I crane my neck and study his serious expression. Depending on the situation, I’ve noticed he’s either full of humor or so terrifying, I want to pee my pants and run away when he settles his scary eyes on me. Tonight, he seems more thoughtful than fearsome.
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Empty Room. You write that?”
I swallow hard and drop my gaze. That song is so intertwined in the deepest parts of my soul. I should probably stop playing it live. Every time, it drags me back to losing Hayley and leaves me raw. I don’t think I can stand to have one of Rooster’s brothers ridicule something so personal. “Yes,” I answer carefully, bracing myself.
“What’s it about?”
My expression hardens as I tip my head back and meet his questioning eyes. “My little sister. Why?”