Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Oh why didn’t he say so?” Shelby slaps her thigh. “Dang it. He texted to congratulate me. But I didn’t know he got nominated too.”

  “You can talk about it later.” Greg’s gaze lands on me. “How’d it go?”

  “Good. Thanks for the alternate route suggestion.”

  Greg nods and stops to talk to everyone for a second. He sure has loosened up about having all these bikers in his face night after night. Not that we gave him a choice.

  “Oh, before I forget. I set up a visit through Dream Makers. Little girl. Ten, I think. She’ll be at the meet-and-greet. I’ll try to have her come in last so you can spend extra time with her.”

  “Thank you. What’s her name?

  Greg screws his face up. “Laura? Lorna? Something with an L.”

  “Can you send it to me, so I can get it right?” Shelby says, barely hiding her irritation.

  “Yes. Yes.” He flicks his gaze at me, but he’s not gettin’ any sympathy from me on this one. He knows how important those visits are to Shelby. “Can I have my star?” he asks me with a fraction of his old sarcasm before returning his attention to Shelby. “The dressing room here is probably the nicest one you’ve had on the tour.”

  “Go ahead, Shelby,” I lift my chin toward the back entrance. “I’ll bring your stuff in.” As much as I hate letting her out of my sight, I’m the only one who knows what Shelby likes to have with her before a show. Murphy, Wrath, and the girls follow behind Shelby and Greg. No one will mess with Shelby as long as they’re watching out for her.

  Jigsaw walks over, stretching out his back.

  “You all right?”

  “Just tweaked. I shouldn’t have teased Shelby about all the yoga. Now she probably won’t teach me anything, will she?”

  “You’re smart. Look it up.”

  He follows me into the van. The other guys mill around outside, rehashing the ride here and going over their plan for the night.

  “Logan! Glad you’re here,” Dawson calls out as I’m stepping out of the RV.

  He jogs over the pavement to meet us, nodding hello to all my brothers.

  “Congrats, heard you got a nod too,” I say when he stops in front of me.

  “Oh yeah.” He waves it away. “It’s good for Shelby. She can use the exposure.”

  I nod and keep moving.

  “The big, big one, Wrath? He said half your crew is headin’ home tomorrow?”

  I nod to Remy, Griff, and Hustler. “Yeah, they gotta get back. I’ll still have some guys with me, though.”

  “Good, good. Look, I got a buddy with a ranch about ten miles outta the city. We’re parking there after tonight’s show. Probably camp out at his place for a day or two.” He motions toward the truck. “You’re more than welcome to park there too and hang with us.” He glances at the guys. “Everyone’s invited. I already cleared it with him. We always do a big bonfire. There’ll be beer, music, and barbecue. It’s usually a fun time.” He glances at the parking lot. “Some ladies from the show usually find their way out there with the crew…”

  That gets the attention and approval of my more degenerate brothers, naturally.

  “Thanks, Dawson.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Appreciate it. Yeah, we’ll do that tonight.” I glance at Jigsaw. “We’re heading to our mother charter in Mississippi tomorrow. Not sure if we’re staying for the whole four days off, though.”

  “Don’t matter. Come and go as you please.” He glances over his shoulder again. “I gotta run. I’ll text you the directions later.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once he’s gone, the guys circle around me. “That sound all right to everyone?”

  “Fuck yeah.” Pants pulls a wrinkled, filthy pink card out of his pocket. I groan when I recognize it. “I gotta catch up or I’m gonna miss my patch.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I groan.

  “Oh, like you haven’t been gettin’ your card punched every night,” he says.

  “I’m gonna punch your face if you don’t knock it off.”

  Jigsaw remains mercifully silent.

  Pants scans the crowd already gathering at the front entrance. We’re too far away to make out many details but that doesn’t stop him from searching.

  “Please, stop eyeballin’ my girlfriend’s fans like they’re your own personal meat market,” I warn.

  As if I hadn’t said a word, Pants continues. He slaps Jiggy’s arm and leans in close. “Let’s be selective with who we bring with us. Some of these girls are too loose.” He makes a squeezing gesture with his hand. “I need a real tight pussy, you know?”

  Steer groans. Jiggy rolls his eyes skyward as if this isn’t the first time he’s heard this complaint. Hustler laughs. Griff backs away like he wants to distance himself from the bunch of us. Remy shakes his head as if he’s never heard of such a stupid problem.

  Dex eyes Pants for a few seconds. “Bro, I’ll be honest, that sounds like a you problem, not a her problem. Relax your fucking grip when you’re jerking off.”

  Pants glances down at his meaty fists and laughs. “Yeah, you might have a point.”

  The rest of the guys crack up.

  “And maybe stop watching so much porn,” Griff suggests with a straight face. “It gives you brain damage.”

  “Not-even-a-prospect says, what?” Pants says, cupping his ear and pretending to search the area as if Griff is invisible.

  Dex high-fives Griff while the rest of the guys laugh.

  I’m so close to punching one of these fuckin’ clowns.

  I snap my fingers in front of Pants and Dex’s faces. “If we’re done with jack-off tips for the sad and single guy, can we get back to serious topics? Help me carry this shit inside.” I jerk my chin toward Shelby’s guitar case and one of her suitcases.

  Even though I have no idea where we’re going, I end up leading everyone into the building. It’s the easiest way to get the pack moving. Backstage is chaos with roadies moving shit around and security checking everyone out. Dawson’s bodyguards give us a cursory glance as we pass by. I stop and ask one of them where Shelby’s dressing room is and he gives me directions.

  Outside her dressing room, I nod to the guys. “Everyone has their pass, right?”

  They either hold them up or dig the passes from their pockets.

  “Dawson asked if I’d help his guys set up tonight. That all right with you?” Steer asks.

  “That’s fine.”

  We go over our game plan for the night and I set them free for now.

  Hopefully everyone can behave tonight.

  After I set Shelby’s stuff inside the room, Jigsaw follows me out to the merchandise booth. We pass plenty of people. Some I recognize from the tour, some I don’t.

  Night after night, tons of women backstage try to get my attention. Some seem to assume giving me a blowjob will get them access to Dawson, even though the pass around my neck clearly has Shelby’s name on it. As much as I’m dying to tell them to fuck off, I don’t want to be rude to Shelby’s fans. Instead, I smile and politely—well, as polite as I can manage—decline.

  She sends me a text, asking for tea, so after the merch booth, we head backstage again.

  “Why the fuck didn’t we think of going into this type of work when we were younger?” Jigsaw elbows me and not-at-all-subtly lifts his chin at a gaggle of girls in short, tight dresses who keep waving at us.

  “How is this different from all the club girls you’ve ridden over the years?” I growl.

  “I don’t have the knowledge that any of them have fucked my brothers for one thing.”

  “No, but they’ve fucked every roadie and band dude who’s passed through town.”

  “So judgmental,” he scolds.

  Yeah, maybe. More like, I don’t need him doing anything that brings negative attention to Shelby.

  “Come on, I don’t want to leave her too long.” I hurry to grab some hot water and honey packets. Wish I could get Shelby to eat something before she goes on stage bu
t she always refuses.

  “You know, I could’ve done this for you,” Jigsaw says, grabbing a fistful of ketchup packets.

  I smack the packets out of his hand and they scatter all over the table. He stares at them with wide cartoon-like eyes. “So. Much. Ouch. What the fuck, bro? We got no condiments in the RV.”

  “Shelby’s allergic to tomatoes.”

  He glances at the scattered packets again. “Does ketchup even qualify as a tomato? It’s mostly corn syrup and vinegar at this point.”

  “I don’t want to take chances.”

  “On what? That I’ll accidentally squirt ketchup down her throat?”

  “Stop being a fucker.” I grab as many sandwiches as my big hands can hold. Jigsaw snags cans of soda and we head back to Shelby.

  At the door to her room, I stop him with an elbow to his gut. “Do not, and I repeat not, hit on Cindy tonight.”

  “Who me?”

  I glare at him until he stops with the sad clown face.

  “Fine, fine. I won’t say a word.”

  Inside, Cindy’s busy twirling sections of Shelby’s hair around a hot iron. I set the tea and honey on the counter in front of Shelby and give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  I pass out sandwiches to Heidi and Trinity before taking a seat at the table to eat my own sandwich while answering some emails.

  SHELBY

  I’m buzzing with more energy than usual as I walk off stage. That has to be my most enthusiastic crowd yet. I don’t know if people are finding me through streaming charts, word-of-mouth, the Glow article or something else, but Lord, please let it continue.

  Rooster’s waiting for me in his usual spot and I practically knock him over in my excitement to get into his arms.

  “You sounded really good tonight,” he says against my ear.

  I pull back and stare up at him.

  “You sound good every night,” he adds with a flicker of amusement quirking his lips.

  “Sorry I need you to tell me how awesome I am every—”

  He silences me with a kiss. “Love saying it. You are awesome,” he whispers against my lips. It’s loud and noisy backstage so I feel his words more than hear them.

  “Thank you.” I wobble a little as he sets me down.

  “Tired?”

  “Nope.”

  Heidi and Trinity rush over to congratulate me on the show. “I got great shots tonight.” Trinity tilts her camera so I can check out some of the photos.

  I barely recognize myself. Must be the tiny screen. If I squint, I almost look like a younger Miranda Lambert. “Damn, you take good photos.”

  “It’s the subject.” She touches my shoulder. “That’s you. Raw. No filters or retouching.”

  Jigsaw hands me a hot pink hand towel and I immediately press it to my face and chest. “Thank you.”

  “Working hard tonight, songbird. I was exhausted just watching you.”

  “Did you watch?” I always assume Jiggy’s bored and busy trying to pick up chicks during my set.

  “Always.”

  “Aww.” I pat his arm. “Thank you.”

  “All right.” Rooster cuts in between us. “Let’s get you to your dressing room.”

  I’m itching to leave or do something to burn off this extra energy, but I have a meet-and-greet to get ready for.

  Inside my dressing room, I peer into the mirror and cringe at the raccoon smudges under my eyes. Cindy’s long gone for the night. I pull out my makeup bag, but Trinity takes it from me.

  “Here, let me help.”

  “You don’t have to.” She’s already done enough tonight.

  “I don’t mind.” She finds a small container of Q-tips, dips one into some makeup remover and gently swipes under my lashes. A few dabs of concealer and a fresh stroke of black liner and I’m almost good as new.

  She picks up my hair, pulling it into a ponytail and I let out a sigh. For some reason it felt especially hot and heavy on my neck tonight. “Do you want me to braid this off your face?” she asks.

  “I can do a quick braid.”

  “Let me try out this waterfall, fishtail braid I’ve been trying to learn.” She smirks at Heidi. “I tried to do it for Alexa but I can’t get her to sit still for me.”

  Heidi shrugs. “Murphy’s the only one who can get her to sit still for braids.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet.” I let out a huge yawn. All that energy I had comin’ off stage seems to be disappearing fast. “I’m more likely to fall asleep on you.”

  “Perfect.” Trinity pushes me into a chair in front of the mirror and gathers all my hair in her hands, gently combing through the sweaty bundle of sticky curls. Heidi sets a few hair elastics on the counter, then takes a seat on the couch to watch.

  “You’re pretty good at this for someone who’s trying to learn,” I comment after she has about a third of my hair woven into a neat piece. Wild sprigs of hair still poke out around my ears but there’s not much we can do to tame ’em.

  “I can do it on myself but haven’t practiced on others a lot yet,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off her task.

  When she’s finished, I hem and haw over changing out of my dress. Everything feels tight and uncomfortable. What I really want is to burrow into my jammy pants.

  “Change if you want to, Shelby. You’re the star. I don’t think anyone will care,” Trinity says.

  “Honestly, if I was meeting my favorite singer—besides you—after a show, I’d think it was pretty cool and down to earth of them to show up more casual,” Heidi adds.

  All right. Can’t argue with that logic. I pick out a pair of black lounging pants with rainbow stripes down the sides and the flamingo shirt Trinity gave me. In the bathroom, I sigh with relief when I slip into the pants.

  “Feel better?” Rooster asks when I emerge.

  “Yup.”

  The guys whisk me down the hall. By now everything is moving smoothly. They keep the line moving but back off when they sense I want to spend a little extra time with some of the younger fans.

  A little girl wearing a Dream Makers T-shirt is the last in line and I move around to the front of the table to greet her. “Lorna, right?”

  Her blue eyes light up. “Yes, that’s me.”

  I squat down so we’re eye-level. “How’d you like the show?”

  “It was so good!” She claps her hands in front of her and executes a little spin. “I danced a lot.”

  “You’re pretty good too.”

  “Thank you.” She curtsies for me and my heart melts. She’s the cutest darn thing.

  “Ooo! I like your shirt. Pretty.” She taps the flamingo on my chest.

  “Thank you.” I lift my chin toward Trinity who’s talking to the girl’s mom and showing her some of the photos she took. “My friend Trinity made it for me because she knows I love flamingos and cowgirl boots.”

  She tugs on the hem. “I want it.”

  “No, honey.” Her mom hurries over to us, taking her daughter’s hand. “You can’t have Shelby’s shirt.” She gives me an apologetic laugh-smile.

  “I can have one made up and send it to her,” Trinity offers.

  The mom protests but Trinity wins in the end, jotting down their information.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say to Trinity after they say their goodbyes. “I’ll pay you whatever it—”

  “It’s fine,” Trinity cuts me off. “I was talking to her mom. They’ve been through so much. I wanted…” Her voice trails off for a moment. “I don’t know how you do this on a regular basis.”

  “All right! Clear out!” one of the security guards yells. “We need to set this up for Thundersmoke.”

  “We’re going!” I wave at the guy. “Sheesh,” I mutter under my breath. “Every dang night.”

  Heidi’s busy collecting my stuff from the table, while Trinity packs up her camera equipment. Wrath scowls at the guard who yelled at us and I tap one of his tree-trunk arms to get his attention.

  He rais
es one blond eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “You sure you guys have to go home tomorrow? Trinity and Heidi are the best damn helpers. You too, of course.”

  He rumbles with laughter, and thoughtfully strokes one hand over his neatly-trimmed, dark blond beard. “Murphy and Heidi have to get back. Trin and I could be persuaded to stick around for a few more days.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “What’s up?” Rooster asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

  “Nothing.” Wrath winks at me. “Your girl thinks I’m a better bodyguard than you.”

  Rooster slowly looks him up and down. “Well, you’re built like a fuckin’ tank, bro.”

  Wrath drops his cocky smirk. “No, seriously. I was thinking, it’s fuckin’ stupid not to drop in and say hi to Priest if I’m this close.” He jerks his head toward Pants and Steer who have joined our conversation. “Blink’s been wanting to meet with Steer and me for a while. Might as well get it over with.”

  Pants cocks his head. “Blink never reaches out to me.”

  “We’ll fix that while we’re there.” He reaches over and slaps Pants’ cheek hard enough to rattle some teeth. “Can’t have you feelin’ left out.”

  I assume this is all club business stuff. But no one tells me to get lost, so I just stand there enjoying the way they all joke around and tease each other. All good-natured, well, sort of. No one gets bent out of shape. They laugh every insult off. Everyone takes it as hard as they dish it out.

  “All set!” Heidi hands me a tote bag with all the supplies I brought.

  “Shoot. I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Party time!” Pants shouts, marching out the door with his arms raised over his head.

  Heidi laughs. “One last party before we head home.”

  “Aw, come here.” I envelop her in a hug. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  She squeezes me just as tight. “Me too.” She pulls back. “Hopefully you’ll come through New York often.” Her gaze skips over my head. “When you’re not on tour.”

  I’ve been trying hard not to think about it but the worry always beats at the edge of my mind. Between recording the next album, going home to help my mom, and getting ready for the next tour, I won’t have a lot of free time.