It was one song.
One stunning, unexpected song.
“Plenty of musicians are talented, but that doesn’t mean I want to listen to ’em,” I say.
“Right, just like you didn’t want to listen to that one.” Rusty chuckles under his breath. “Pride goeth before the fall.”
“My fall made Ancient Rome’s look like a minor stumble,” I say, and Rusty laughs.
After a little more talking and a lot more comfortable silence, we reach the bustling Capital City Theater in downtown Columbia.
I hear the low, steady rumble before we even turn into the parking lot.
A line of semi-trucks is parked outside, and everywhere, crew members are unloading equipment and taking it through a set of large, wide-open double doors on the side of the building.
Security guards are posted at the sides, and a short, long-haired man with a team of assistants directs crew members like a cop managing traffic.
Manny, no doubt.
Lou is evidently big enough to sell out arenas, but the first stop on a tour is where you work out the kinks. I’m glad to see her tour manager is smart enough to schedule a smaller venue to ensure the bigger shows run smoothly. That speaks well for Lou, because the artist hires the tour manager, not the label.
Of course, she probably had her mom’s help in picking him. Winona Williams is an absolute legend.
Although, asking her mom for advice would indicate a willingness to learn thatalsospeaks well for her?—
Stop thinking about her.
Rusty parks, and the two of us get out of his truck. He grabs my oversized duffel bag from the back and meets me around the front. It’s bright out, and I’m glad I remembered sunglasses. I drop them over my eyes, then give Rusty a hug.
“Thanks, man.”
“Good luck.” He slaps my back, then separates from me. “I think the guy sucks, but I hope Connor Nash is willing to listen.”
I sniff. “Thanks. Check in on Sean for me, will you? And my dad?”
“I’ll be there as much as they need me,” Rusty says, as if he isn’t cut from the same self-sacrificing cloth as Sean.
I should feel awful asking him, but, well, I’m not a good enough guy.
“Rusty!”
Lou’s gorgeous, gravelly voice hits me before I see her, like a chord struck too hard. Then she’s there—laughing, hugging Rusty, sunlight tangled in her wild hair.
And I hate that I notice.
She slaps Rusty’s arm with a grin that could give a guy a sunburn. “Where you been lately?”
Rusty smiles. “Trying to give Ash as much Janes time as she needs.”
“Oh, come on. You’re an honorary Jane if there ever was one.”
He drops his head like he’s honored. “I hope Sonny won’t mind the company,” he says.
Sonny… Luciano?
Yeah, that’s right. The ex-NFL star is dating one of the Janes. Parker, I think?
Honestly, I can’t keep any of them straight except Ash and now Lou.
