AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But I’ve got nothing today.
“I know it’s been covered a bunch of times, but you could really do this justice,” Trent says as the last note fades.
“Nothing will ever top Faster Pussycat’s version.”
He snort-laughs. This has been a frequent argument of ours for years. The bit of normalcy feels like an inside-out sweater today.
I reach out and flick his hair. “What’s with the baby manbun?”
He cups the back of his head. “What’re you talking about? This is in. The chicks have been digging it.”
“Yeah? You get lucky in Virginia?”
“A gentleman doesn’t tell.”
I glance around. “I don’t see any here.”
“We rehearsing or not?” Kenny shouts.
I cough and rub my throat. “I’m still…my voice is pretty raw. You guys go ahead. I’ll listen in.”
It’s only a tiny white lie. My voice isn’t raw—it’s gone. Along with my muse. All I can picture is opening my mouth and nothing coming out. Not sure how I’m supposed to go back on the road like this.
My mom brings me a cup of tea and a packet of honey. “See if that helps, baby.”
“Thanks.” My eyes well up and I will away the tears before anyone notices.
Damn, this sucks. My mood’s all over the place this morning. One horrible event seems to have turned me into different people trying to co-exist inside the same skin. I hate it. Hate this timid girl who jumps at her shadow. Hate the emptiness inside me.
Most of all, I hate the missing music.
Chapter Twenty-One
Shelby
“Well, that was pointless.” I sigh and drop into a chair outside the hotel’s coffee shop upstairs.
“The band sounds good. Trent’s grown up an awful lot. He looks so professional now.” My mother sips her coffee and wrinkles her nose, reaching for another packet of sugar. “How do you feel?”
Scared. Out of body. Like I’ve aged ten years in the last few days. “Okay.”
She stretches over the table and brushes my hair from my shoulder. “Your hair’s getting so long. I wish you had more people attending to you on the road.”
I tug at the ends of my hair, still wavy from braiding it last night. “I like it. Besides, it’s all mine. I’d hate having to stick extensions and stuff in every night.”
“Well, I hope you’re using a good heat-protecting spray or something on it,” she says, still studying me.
“I use whatever Cindy has and try avoid heat on my days off.”
“Good.”
“Is my hair really what you want to talk about before you go home?”
She shifts her gaze from my hair to my face. “I’m just disappointed. I always thought things would be more, I don’t know…glamorous for you out on the road. That you’d be traveling with rolling racks of fabulous wardrobes, have a large entourage, a bus with your face—”
My whole world tilts on its axis. This is the last damn conversation I want to have after my bust of a rehearsal. Momma chose the wrong day to unravel this particular ball of yarn. “Nothing I do will ever be good enough for you, will it?”
“That’s not what I meant at all, honey.”
The hell it isn’t. “Not many artists tour that way these days. I’m still so new to the business. But I’m doing what I love. Can’t that be enough?”
“I want the best of everything for you.”
I’m sure she believes that, so I let it go.
“I like Trinity. I think it’ll be good for you to have a female friend of sorts on the road with you.”
“Yeah, and her husband’s hella scary, so hopefully his presence keeps the wackos at bay.”
Her mouth twists with worry. Shoot, maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up right before she leaves. But hell, the whole reason we’re even sitting here is because of the kidnapping…abduction? I’m hardly a kid, so kidnapping feels weird. Goddamn, I wish I’d kicked that bastard in the balls while I had the chance.
“I am glad Rooster and some of his brothers will be protecting you the rest of the tour,” she says.
I have to pick my jaw up off the table.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She huffs and fixes her blouse. “I still think you’re too young to settle down.”
“I’m hardly ‘settling down.’” I’ve thought long and hard about how to approach what I want to say. Now or never. I reach over and rest my hand against hers. “I know how much Dad hurt you when he left—”
“Oh, screw that man to hell and back.” Her eyes are practically spitting sparks. “I don’t care about him walking out on me.”
The table jiggles and I tilt my head to the side. My mother’s bouncing her leg so fast she’s about to launch herself into the sky.
“Maybe I should’ve told you this when you were younger.” Her words are soft and hesitant now, but that leg of hers is still jumping a mile a minute.
