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“I didn’t want to question him too much, Z.”
“No. You did fine.” He cackles. “I can’t wait to tell Rock this little gem.”
“Glad I could amuse you.”
“Well, I guess it’s a relief.”
“Trust me, I still plan to lay as low as possible.” I have my own reasons for not wanting my face in magazines that have nothing to do with the club.
Finally, we hang up. Shelby’s still awake, so I ask her to come outside with me.
We stop at the truck where I pull a blanket out of the back seat.
The guys have settled down somewhat but the bonfire’s still roaring. We walk away from it toward the open field.
“Where are we going?”
I stop and stare at the sky. This should be a good spot. I spread the blanket out and drop down, holding my hand out to her.
“We have a perfectly good bed in the RV, you know.”
I roll onto my back, pulling her with me. “I know, sassy pants. But I wanted you to see this.”
Together, we stare up at the stars. So many of them.
“Ohh,” she breathes out. “It’s beautiful. Thousands of tiny diamonds and cosmic dust on inky satin.”
Who else would describe a simple night sky so poetically? “I know I was teasing you before. But your line about diamonds made me think of this.”
She rolls to her side, so she’s facing me. “Really?”
“I used to like sleeping under the stars sometimes when I was a kid.” I turn to her. “I know that’s not your thing so we won’t stay long.”
“With you, it could be my thing.” Her velvety voice caresses my very soul. “The whole world seems less scary when I’m with you.”
“The stars scare you?”
“Not the stars. The things that lurk in the darkness.” She rolls onto her back and slips her hand in mine, softly running her thumb over the back of my hand. “The universe is so big, I feel like it could swallow me whole sometimes.”
“I’d never let that happen.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Shelby
By the time we pull into Baton Rouge a few days later, Greg seems to be over the stripper pole fiasco, as I’ve named the incident.
Sippin’ on Secrets had the nerve to DM me on Instagram for a comment. I may or may not have answered with an unladylike middle-finger emoji.
No regrets.
Tonight, I’m pacing around my dressing room humming my scales when Greg busts in.
“Knock much, Greg?” Rooster growls. “That’s a good way to walk in on something you don’t wanna see.”
I snicker into my hand. “He ain’t lyin’.”
“Neither of you are funny,” he grumbles.
“Hey, Shelby.” Cindy breezes into the room, bumping Greg out of her way. “How’re we feeling tonight?”
“Nervous.”
“Oh, hush, honey. You’re gonna be great as always.” She pats the chair. “Come on now.”
Rooster continues working, ignoring Greg’s presence as much as one can in such a small room.
After seeing all the work he did for Anya’s website, I’d asked him to update mine. Between the photos Trinity took and other content we added, it’s looking a lot more professional. It’d probably be less annoying if Rooster didn’t have to run all of it by Greg. But so far, they haven’t murdered each other.
“You want me to add the pages for each of the guys, right?” Rooster asks me.
“Yup. Trent should’ve sent you pics and bios.”
“I got ’em.”
Trinity and I have been going back and forth on more flamingo pun ideas and illustrations. Rooster’s planning to add a merch shop on my website to sell the stuff once we figure out the designs. We added a few flocking fabulous tank tops to my merch booth and so far, they’re selling well.
“What do you think about putting your hair up tonight?” Cindy asks. “It’s so hot out there.”
“Sure.”
While she works on me, I stick my ear buds in and listen to the pieces Trent and I recorded together earlier on my phone. The quality’s crap. But it’s good enough to get the general feel and make some notes.
“You’re wearing the purple dress tonight, right?” Cindy asks.
“Can we do big, glam eyes with that metallic gold and purple combo we did in Atlanta?”
“Sure.”
When she’s finished, I scoot into the bathroom to change into my dress. I strip down to my bra and panties. I kinda miss the days when we didn’t have so many people in and out of my dressing room before a show so Rooster and I could fool around.
Laughing to myself, I pick up my phone and send him a quick text.
Me: I miss pre-show orgasms.
Five seconds later, he knocks on the door and opens it.
“You rang?” His mouth twists into my favorite cocky smirk as he swaggers into the room and closes the door behind him.
Nervous laughter bubbles out of me. “Is Greg still out there?”
“No, I told him to get lost.” He flips the lock on the door.
