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She turned.
Well ...
Jon Boling's common greeting, just like his personality, was easy, friendly. And more than a little sexy, Dance had always felt.
Until now.
She stared blankly. He gave a surprised laugh, apparently assuming she was caught up in whatever drama was going on backstage at the moment--all the somber faces. And he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her.
She returned the pressure anemically, feeling the weight of the blunt realization that he'd come all the way here--three hours--to tell her he was leaving her and moving to San Diego.
At least he's got the balls to tell me face-to-face....
A line, Dance reflected wryly, that had a good country beat to it, though she guessed it wasn't the sort of phrase that would ever appear in a Kayleigh Towne song.
Chapter 79
"YOU LOOK MORE surprised than I thought you would," Boling said, stepping back from the embrace.
He looked around, an exaggerated frown on his face. "Your secret lover must be here somewhere. And, dammit, I bought a ticket. You probably got him comped."
Dance laughed, though the sound only made her feel worse, a reminder of the many good times they'd shared. They walked to a deserted part of the backstage area.
Boling looked around. "What's going on? Everybody okay?"
"Hard to say." She couldn't avoid the cryptic response.
He looked her over. "We've had the worst phone luck. I've been doing t
en-hour days. And you, your mom said you were working on that kidnapping case. Some vacation you had, hm?"
My mother, my spy.
"And Lincoln and Amelia were here?"
"Couldn't've done it without them." She told Boling about the minute bits of trace that gave her the idea that Edwin had taken Kayleigh's song to heart, the one about growing up near a silver mine. "That's how we traced him."
Boling leaned forward and kissed her quickly, his lips firmly against hers.
Her phone vibrated. A glance downward. It was Michael O'Neil.
Well, how's that for some irony?
"You have to get that?"
"I'll let it go," Dance said.
"Good turnout," he said. "I listened to one of Kayleigh's CDs on the way here. I can't wait for the show."
"About that ... there may be a rain check situation."
And she told him about the blowup between father and daughter.
"No! You mean cancel the whole show?"
"Looks like it."
The crew, Kayleigh's band, the local backup musicians, a children's choir ... everybody was standing around awkwardly, heads and eyes pivoting, engaged in a radar search for the centerpiece of the evening. The sense of dread was evident. Kayleigh was the least temperamental performer on earth. If she stormed out it was not diva drama, with her in the trailer waiting to be coaxed back. Her absence probably reflected the sentiment in one of her early hits: "Gone for Good (and It's Good to Be Gone)."
