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I’m under no illusions that I’ll be ready to headline a tour on my own by next summer, so this is definitely the next best thing. “Thank you. Yes, of course I will.”
“We’ll talk to Greg and get that sorted. Still got plenty of dates left on this tour to worry about.” He turns to Rooster again. “Now, about that payroll. How ’bout you set up something official and I’ll get that over to my accountant. That way I’m not feelin’ like a schmuck when your guys are helpin’ me out and stuff.”
My phone vibrates, drawing all of our attention.
“You plannin’ to answer that?” Dawson asks me.
“No, it’s Greg calling to yell at me.”
“He better not yell at you.” Rooster snaps up the phone and hits accept.
“Why are you doing this to me, Shelby?” Greg moans. Guess he and Miranda aren’t planning to give me some leeway on this one.
“You got Logan.”
“And Dawson.” He leans forward and shouts at the phone. “Don’t be yellin’ at the lady, Greg.”
“Where’s Shelby?” Greg asks.
I lean closer to the phone. “I’m right here. And I didn’t do anything to you, Greg. I went out with my friends.”
“Can I talk to you privately?” Greg asks.
“Sure, sure.” I grab the phone from Rooster and scoot to the other side of the bed, scurrying into the bathroom.
I need to pee and since Greg’s kinda pissed me off this morning, I feel it’s acceptable to do it while he’s still ranting. I mute my end of the conversation, though. I’m a lady after all.
“Greg,” I cut in when I’m finished but he’s still rip-roarin’ mad.
“Did you see the pictures of you smiling and twirling around the pole like a…like a…”
“Like a girl having a good time? You know pole dancing is actually a sport, right? Maybe I was trying to get in shape since all these magazines keep insinuating I’ve got too much junk in my trunk.”
“No one takes pole dancing lessons from half-naked strippers in what looks like a damn whorehouse, Shelby. You know better.”
“Dawson was there too.” Damn, I hate that whiny tone to my voice. “Why isn’t anyone bent about that?”
“He’s a man. I thought you’d come to terms with how this business works?” He blows out an annoyed breath. “Why are we having this conversation? You want to win that CMA award, this isn’t the way to do it, Shelby.”
Shoot. The double-standard burns my ass, but he’s right. I still have to work within the confines of the industry if I want to reach my goals. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”
Rooster pushes the door open and snatches the phone out of my hand, flipping the speaker on again. I don’t even bother to protest.
“It’s my fault,” he rumbles. “No one should’ve been taking photos there.”
“The video and photos are shit,” Greg concedes. “So it must’ve been a customer or something sneaking the shot.” His voice gets distant likes he’s looking at something on his screen while he’s talking to us. “Hardly even looks like Shelby. If it wasn’t for the clear shot of you in the parking lot, I’d go with a ‘that’s not even her’ defense.”
Oh, hell no. I can already see the tracks Greg’s thought train is barreling down. “I won’t lie or apologize for going out and having fun with my friends.”
“Shelby—”
“No.”
“Where’s Dawson? He still there?”
“No,” Rooster answers. “He had to run.”
Greg grumbles. “This might kill your chances at the CMAs. Hell, you might not win that Small Screen award either, Shelby. That show’s coming up soon.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” I take a deep breath. “But I’m not apologizing.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Rooster
After such an eventful morning, it’s almost anti-climactic when we finally roll into National’s parking lot.
Shelby’s so happy to see the RV she runs inside of it to change and I follow.
“Babe, I’m gonna run inside. I need to talk to Priest.”
She emerges from the bathroom in shorts and a tank, her face damp and hair in a ponytail. “I might take a nap. Is that okay?” She eyes the bed longingly.
“You want to use the cabin? I still have the key for it.”
“I kinda wanna sleep in my own bed. But I also want to take a bath.”
I turn on the fan. “Why don’t you nap here. I’ll come get you when I’m done. We’re not leaving until tomorrow morning. Plenty of time to bathe you.” In fact, I’m looking forward to it.
“All right.” She yawns and pads over to the bed. I pull back the covers and tuck her in, stopping to kiss her cheek.
“Better?”
“Mmm.”
Chuckling, I step outside, closing and locking the door.
“Is she okay?” Jigsaw asks.
“Shit. Why you sneaking up on me?”
“Everyone else went inside,” he says, ignoring my question. “You need me to talk to Priest with you?”
I appreciate the offer but I’m not dragging Jiggy into this conversation. “Nah, that’s all right.”
