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Is that a note of sadness or disappointment in his voice? I’ve always wondered if he and Shelby were ever more than bandmates or if he has feelings for her. What better way to have her jump in his lap than by scaring the shit out of her while she’s away from home and everything is familiar except him?
“You’re the one who found the letter this morning, Trent?” My mind’s spinning in a hundred different directions. Gut instinct says it’s not Trent but I can’t help asking the question.
He widens his stance and places his hands on his hips. “Yeah, why? Kenny and Eric were with me.”
The whole band could be in on it. Maybe they resent being no-name touring musicians. Shelby doesn’t interact with anyone besides Trent that much. What if they decided to fuck with her?
“Everyone’s concerned about this, Logan,” Greg says, clearly reading my thoughts. “We all need Shelby to succeed.”
“How long you known Shelby, Trent?” I ask.
“Years. Why?”
“She got any psycho ex-boyfriends? Maybe one who’s jealous she’s gaining some fame?”
“Shoot.” He rubs his hand over his jaw. “Uh, she’s dated a lot of assholes. Like, a lot. Swear the girl’s an asshole magnet.”
“All right,” I growl. “Get to the point.”
“I wasn’t exactly privy to details and such. We don’t discuss our love lives unless we’re writing a song about it, ya know?” He scratches at his chin again. “Cheaters, cheapskates, fuckboys, but none of ’em stick out as psycho enough to write those disturbing letters.”
I chew on that information for a few seconds.
Jigsaw taps my arm. “It’s gotta be an older dude. No one her age writes letters. Fuck, half of ’em don’t even know how to handwrite anymore.”
“Okay, Grandpa,” Trent mutters.
Jigsaw turns his scary eyes Trent’s way. “Your guardian angel must day drink.”
Trent, wisely, backs up.
“All right,” Greg cuts in. “Logan, let’s get you set up.”An hour and a half later, my viewing both looks pretty damn good for something thrown together in less than twenty-four hours.
“What’s up with you?” Jigsaw asks on the way back to Shelby’s dressing room. “You think Trent’s got a thing for her?”
“Don’t know. His explanation of her dating history sure shed some light on her trust issues, though.”
He stops walking and slaps his arm against my chest. “Trust. Issues. Where the fuck did you even hear a phrase like that?”
“Shut up.”
“So you’ve had the relationship ‘talk?’ You’re all committed and shit now?”
“No, I’m down here spending my morning cobbling together an Inspector Gadget spy booth for funsies. What the fuck do you think?”
“You never talked about her past?”
“You met her last boyfriend. The one who let her fall in the river and laughed about it.”
“Riiiight. Shelby in her wet dress was a lovely sight.” He closes his eyes and grins like a puppy laying in the sunshine.
“Knock it off.” I slam my fist into his shoulder.
He scowls at me and rubs his arm. “She wasn’t your girlfriend then. I can maintain that image in my whack album.”
“I’m gonna whack every image out of your head if you don’t knock it the fuck off.”
“Fine. Fine.”
We continue moving through the arena. The doors haven’t opened yet, so the only people we pass are employees in their black and yellow shirts.
Shelby’s sitting cross-legged on her yoga mat with her eyes closed when we enter her dressing room.
I close the door quietly behind us.
“Is she trying to float?” Jigsaw whispers loud enough to shake leaves off a tree.
“No, Jiggy.” Shelby opens her eyes and smiles at us. “Just getting myself centered. How’d it go?”
“Good. I’m gonna have you come back out with me, and we’ll film a few short videos to post online to let people know about it.” I set the laptop Ice loaned us on the table and check that the video feed is working. “I sent Ice the video Greg had. He’s going to monitor tonight’s feed from his location while you’re onstage to see if he notices anyone familiar.”
“Really?” Shelby stretches and stands, bending over to roll up her mat.
“Eyes over here, fuckface,” I growl at Jigsaw.
“Jiggy’s just trying to inject some humor into our tense day, right?” Shelby tiptoes over to me and leans up for a kiss.
“No.” I wrap my arms around her and tug her against me. “He’s begging me to invert his fucking ribcage.”
She tilts her head, peering at him over her shoulder. “You’re a good friend for trying to take Rooster’s mind off things.”
“Suuure, you busted me.” Jigsaw holds up his hands. “That’s exactly what I was doing. It had nothing at all to do with those shorts tattooed to your perfect—”
“Do you want me to skin you alive?” I reach past Shelby and smack his shoulder.
He grins at me.
“If we get anything promising, I’m sending it to Z,” I say, ignoring Jigsaw. “He has…access to a few databases.”
