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“Okay,” I answer slowly. “I’m on tour now.”
“I know.” She blows out an exasperated breath. “Let me see what I can do. Dawson’s probably up for a few nods himself. So maybe you both can work it into the schedule.”
I don’t think I like where she’s going with this, but I don’t want to piss her off yet. I’ll have to reserve judgment for later.
“Now,” she says, briskly transitioning to the next item on her list. “The Glow magazine interview is scheduled. They’re going to meet with you the day after the Atlanta show.”
“I thought that show got canceled?”
“Well, Dawson says it’s on or it’s been rescheduled.” She waves her hands in the air as if it doesn’t matter, which I suppose it doesn’t. I don’t wanna bring another lick of negative attention to myself on this tour. No matter how understanding Dawson’s been, if people start to think I’m a magnet for trouble, I’ll never be invited onto a major tour again. And Lord knows, I’m not big enough to headline my own shows yet.
Unless I want to be kicked back to my roots of headlining bars and honky-tonks, shut up and deal is my new motto.
A flush of fear ripples over my skin. How can I be so excited to get back on the road and terrified at the same time?
Next, Miranda relays an obscene amount of money Glow wants to pay me for the interview and reminds me that interviews aren’t usually paid but they’re willing because this is a “special circumstance.”
I take that to mean they expect the goriest of details no matter how uncomfortable it makes me to relive the kidnapping.
“You made it clear to them that they need to be respectful, right?” Rooster says as if he’d read my mind.
“Yes, of course,” Miranda huffs. “But they will pose serious questions. It’s probably better if you’re not there to alter the vibe of the—”
Rooster laughs, low and threatening. “Yeah, not happening.”
“Mr. Randall—”
“I won’t open my mouth and say a word, unless I have to. But Shelby’s not doing any interviews alone.”
Under the desk, I slide my hand over his leg to let him know how much I appreciate that. He reaches down and squeezes my hand.
“Shelby,” she protests.
“Nope.” I lift my chin. “That’s non-negotiable.”
“Fine.” She tips her head down, furiously scribbling over her notepad, adding what looks like a dozen exclamation points. “All right. Dream Makers. I’d like to set something up and—”
“Not gonna happen. I don’t use those visits for publicity. Never have. Never will.”
“Jesus,” she grumbles. More strokes of fury with her pen. “All right. I think I saved the best for last.” Under her breath she mutters something I can’t make out. “Diamond Tough Denim—you heard of them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Since I couldn’t afford many—or any—brand name stuff growing up, I’ve never paid much attention to labels. Even now, it’s not something I care about. Why waste time wanting stuff I can’t afford?
“They’re an old company. All American-made, so they’re on the pricier side. Quality stuff. They used to lean more toward work clothes for, you know, rich people who wanted to play dress up and pretend they were stable workers or whatever.”
I can’t really make sense of what she’s yammering about, but I nod along, waiting for her to get to the point.
“Well, they’d like to break into a more youthful, fashionable market and they’re looking for someone to help them influence that transition by targeting their ideal demographic.”
“Okay…”
“They want you to wear their pants in public, on your social media, on stage, and take some photos in them for money, Shelby,” she spits out in an exasperated rush.
“Well, why didn’t you just say that?”
“They think you’d be perfect. You’re very down-to-earth and have that graceful, Southern belle vibe.”
No one’s ever confused me for a Southern belle. This lady sure has some strange ideas about the South.
“And of course, country music is very popular. So you hit all their sweet spots.”
“Great.”
“You’re open to it?” she asks with two delicately penciled, hopefully raised eyebrows.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Fantastic.”
“No nudity or anything gross, though, right?” I mean, from her description, it doesn’t sound like it will be a problem, but I feel compelled to throw that out there.
“No, honey. That is absolutely not what we want for your image. We’ll need to find you some people to go over these contracts. But I’ll get working on this now. I don’t want them to offer it to anyone else.”
This sounds great and all but before we go any further, I need to clear something up. “We haven’t discussed your fee yet, Miranda—”
“You and I can discuss that later,” Rooster says to the screen.
I choke and turn his way but before I open my mouth, Miranda whistles for our attention. “My fees have been covered for now.”
What? “By who?” I sputter.
