When I get bogged down too long, Steer and Pants aren’t shy about pushing people back to keep us moving.
With all the excitement, I totally lose my place in the song. Somehow Dawson’s still keeping up his end of the chorus.
“Third verse, Shelby!” he shouts.
Son of a biscuit.
My mind blanks.
We reach a small platform and Rooster helps me up the steps. From this vantage point, I see hundreds of happy fans way up in the stands and I wave. “How y’all doing! So good to see your smilin’ faces! You wanna help me sing this one?”
They respond with enthusiastic yells but no dang lyrics.
Laughing into the microphone, I turn and spot Dawson on a similar platform halfway across the arena. “You’re the expert. You’re gonna have to help me out, Dawson.”
“I gotcha, darlin’,” he croons into the microphone and launches into the final verse.
Mother of sweet sinnin’ fools. Did Dawson get the first couple lines wrong himself?
Please forgive us, Garth. We’re not worthy.
We get our acts together for the kiss my ass line, which we sing in unison before launching into the chorus together. Everyone’s on their feet. The building’s shaking from the thundering voices singing along with us.
The band’s boisterous and vibrant, carrying us through the chorus again. Dawson’s voice cuts out for a minute, then returns. He’s off the platform, coming my way.
Someone taps my leg.
I glance down into Rooster’s eyes. He motions me forward and helps me down the steps.
My pack of bodyguards approaches Dawson’s and they open up so we can sing a few lines together, then keep moving past each other. I end up returning to the stage on the side Dawson left.
He meets me up there and grabs my hand, lifting it over my head, then dipping us forward for a dramatic bow. “Thank you, Nashville. Thank you, Shelby Morgan…” he rattles off a long list of people and introduces his band members again.
The band’s still playing. Crowd still singing.
Dawson pulls me in for a sweaty hug. “Thank you so much, Shelby.”
“No, thank you!” I gush, laughing and holding back a rush of happy tears. “Thank you so much for the opportunity.”
He pats my back and I take that as my cue to get gone before I embarrass myself.
This has to be the highest moment of my career and I don’t want the night to end.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rooster
“I’m deceased,” Shelby flops onto the bed in our hotel room face-first. “Stick a fork in me. Bury me with my boots on.”
Next to me, Greg chuckles. “This is the fun part of artist-wrangling no one tells you about.” He claps his hands. “Come on, Shelby. You can sleep later.”
Normally I’d tell Greg to fuck off at this point. But people expect to see her at this after-party.
“Miranda went to a lot of trouble to set this interview up. Shelby has to do it,” he pleads with me. “The CMA votes will happen soon and we need her smiling face to be shown all over town.”
“I’ll get her there,” I promise. Everything in me wants to protect Shelby and let her rest but she’ll be furious with herself later if she misses this interview.
Greg shoots one last begging face my way before backing out the door.
Jiggy glances at the bed. “What do you wanna do? Carry her?”
“No!” Shelby shouts.
Laughing and shaking my head, I approach and consider my options. While the show was great, she’s been pushed to exhaustion. I sit on the edge of the bed and lift her leg, sliding off one of her boots.
“I don’t think fucking’s gonna help,” Jiggy says.
“Shut up.”
“It’s bad enough you listen.” Shelby raises her hand without lifting her face from the pillows and points in Jiggy’s general direction. “You ain’t watchin’.”
I glance at the ceiling.
“Is she drunk?” Jigsaw asks.
“She’s just tired.”
I slip off her other boot.
“This is why all the great rock stars were cokeheads,” Jiggy mutters.
“How is that helpful?” I ask.
“My body is a temple,” Shelby shouts into her pillow.
“Yes, a temple only Rooster is free to come inside.” Jiggy cackles at his stupid joke. “We know, songbird.”
Shelby giggles and rolls over, grinning at him. “Good one.”
I cock my head and stare at both of them. “Was it though?”
She sits up and blows out a breath. “Okay. Got my second wind.” She turns her reddened eyes on me. “I feel so bad. You guys must be tired too.”
“Nah,” Jiggy answers. “I’m going to find my own temple to worship at for the night.”
“Lordy.” She flicks her hands toward the ceiling. “They sure invited enough groupies back to the hotel. You’ll have your pick.”
“Steer’s already there—” Jiggy’s gaze slides toward the door.
“Are we holding you up from perving on Dawson’s leftovers?” she asks.
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Sorry.” Shelby giggles some more. Best sound in the world. “This skirt’s scratching my legs to hell.”
She grabs some clothes and heads into the bathroom.
When she closes the door, I turn to Jiggy. “You really don’t have to stay.”
“I was worried about her.” He waves his hand toward the bathroom. “Might as well wait and go with you two now.”
“Let’s do this!” Shelby flings the door open and marches out, scooping her boots off the floor.
“That’s the spirit.”
The three of us find the elevator that leads to the rooftop bar. Dawson rented the whole thing for the night. Party sounds are already filtering to our floor.
“Should’ve stayed somewhere else,” I grumble, hitting the elevator button.
“They gotta pass out sometime.” Shelby yawns and leans against me, resting her head on my chest while the elevator rockets to the top floor.
One of Dawson’s guards blocks the entrance to the roof. He recognizes us and steps aside. “Evening, Shelby. Great job tonight.”
“Aw, thank you.”
He nods to Jiggy and me as we pass.
Greg’s seated at the bar, talking to a slim blonde with long legs.
“No way she’s with Greg,” Jiggy mutters to me.
“Never mind,” I growl.
“That’s the reporter, I think,” Shelby adds.
I clutch Jiggy’s shoulder. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn him.
“But—”
“No.”
I swear to fuck he actually whines.
“There must be a hundred other women here.” I gesture toward the pool where Steer and Pants are chatting up two groupies I recognize from previous shows.
“Fine.” He huffs and stomps off toward the pool. I wave to the other guys.
“Why’d you chase him away?” Shelby whispers. “What if I say something dumb and need Jiggy to sleep with her to fix it?”