by Lisa Lewis
Good thing he was a good leader, because if left to her own devices, she wouldn’t have a clue what she was doing.
She was numb.
Scared.
Because although the physical intimacies she’d experienced last night had been figments of her imagination, the emotions they’d evoked were all too real.
She was in love with Tom. Deeply in love.
This wasn’t the half-ass emotion she’d felt for Eric prior to her arrest. No infatuation here—this was the real deal.
And she didn’t think it was going away any time soon.
•
Tom held the door open for Bethany and allowed her to precede him into the diner. He was hungry as a horse, as the saying goes.
Once Hannah had left him alone last night, he’d dozed off, guided by images of the woman by his side.
He didn’t remember any details of what he’d dreamt, but he’d woke with a smile on his face and a ravenous feeling in his gut. The kind of feeling a man gets after a period of strenuous exercise.
He only wished the kind of exercise he’d imagined had been reality.
But there was always later, at the hotel. He was sure he could find time alone with Beth at some point today. They actually had an extra day off scheduled this week, leaving plenty of time for socializing.
Maybe they could finally make some of his dreams come true. But right now, he was hoping to just sit next to her while they had breakfast.
“Hey, Beth! Over here!” Cole’s loud, eager voice interrupted Tom’s musings. “We saved a seat for you.”
So much for that little wish.
“Go ahead,” he told Beth. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
He watched as she gave her father a good morning kiss and sat down beside him, then Tom moved to a nearby table where Leo was seated.
At least he wouldn’t have to crane his neck to look at her. From this vantage point, he could see Beth’s face clearly as she spoke with Mike, Cole, and George. It was a poor consolation prize, but he’d take it.
The waitress came to take their orders, and a short while later the band and crew were served dishes overflowing with hot food. Conversation slowed and eventually stopped altogether as people focused on clearing their plates.
It wasn’t until meals had been devoured and everyone was lingering over coffee that a comment spoken at Beth’s table caught his attention.
“Hey, Beth, you must’ve been having some nightmare last night. You was squirming around so hard in your seat I figured you was gonna end up on the floor!” It was Cole again, speaking loud enough for half the restaurant to hear.
Tom’s eyes shot to Bethany.
Her face was beet red, her eyes open wide as her gaze locked with his.
Then she glanced away, back toward Cole, and began babbling an answer. “Um, yeah. Yeah. It was a horrible nightmare. From childhood.”
She darted another glance at Tom, who hadn’t bothered to look away.
“My mother died, you know. In a horrible accident. Drunk driver. I was only eight.”
Another quick look at Tom.
“That’s when I started traveling with Dad, on the road. The motion of the bus probably brought in all out of my subconscious.”
It was such an obvious line of bull that Tom almost laughed.
But he couldn’t laugh because the fear he’d felt for Beth yesterday came rushing back with full force. It was clear to him that Beth hadn’t been dreaming of her dead mother at all.
She’d been dreaming of Eric Sharpe.
She’d put on a good act for him, he’d give her that. He’d honestly believed that she wasn’t concerned about Sharpe coming after her.
But she’d just buried the fear, only permitting it to surface while she slept.
Dreams were usually a good place to find hidden truths.
“Tom! Leo!”
The men simultaneously turned to see what was happening.
Liz rushed toward them, her naturally olive complexion now pale and streaked with silent tears, cell phone clutched in hand. Hannah, Dylan, Sam, and Jack were close behind her.
“I have to leave! I have to go home!”
“What’s going on?” Leo asked.
“My mother’s had a stroke. I have to get home—there’s no one else!”
The women had been singing with Roadhouse for a couple years, so Tom was aware of Liz’s situation. Her elderly mother lived on her own, and Liz’s brother was in the Navy, currently somewhere overseas.
He knew how close Liz and her mother were, and he understood that she had to get back to Savannah. He would’ve done the same thing if his own mother were alive and needed assistance.
Nothing was more important than family.
Tom looked around at the other members of Roadhouse. Their faces showed sympathy, and he knew they all felt as he did.
“Go on, Liz. Head on home. We all wish you the best of luck. Let us know how your mom is doing.”
Murmurs of acquiescence and condolence could be heard from the surrounding group.
Hannah wrapped an arm around her friend. “I’ll help Liz get her stuff together and make arrangements to get back to Georgia.”
Liz started crying again, loudly this time. “I’m so sorry, guys. But I can’t stay. I—I just can’t.”
“Shh. Things will be fine around here.” Hannah hugged Liz and gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “The only person you need to worry about is your mother. Now, come on. Let’s get you back to her.”
Goodbyes were said, but as the two women made their way out of the diner, Dylan spoke the concern that was in everyone’s mind.
“Damn. What are we gonna do? We’re short a back-up singer and still have a ton of concerts left.”
“We have to cancel the rest of the tour.” Jack’s response nearly incited a riot among the band and crew. Those seated close by had easily overheard Liz’s problem. Which, it now appeared, was everyone’s problem.
Amidst the confusion, Leo stated another option. “We’re only down one person. How hard could it be to find a replacement?”
“Hmph,” was Sam’s reply to that. “Do you realize how many fruitcakes we’d be surrounded by if we suddenly advertised for a back-up singer? Not to mention that she’d need to be ready to sing in two days. We couldn’t ask that of anyone. It’s nuts.”
“It’s the only choice we have,” Leo shot back. He looked around. “Unless you all want to head back home right now?”
Band and crew members alike shook their heads. No, they wanted to complete the tour.
And in the silence that fell over the entire crowd, an idea took root in Tom’s mind.
“I know who we can ask.”
Chapter Ten
“Are you freakin’ crazy?”
Beth couldn’t comprehend what was going on in Tom’s head. He couldn’t have said what she thought he did.
“You’re asking me to replace Liz as a back-up singer? I’ve never done anything like that—you have to find someone else!”
“We don’t have time to find someone else,” he replied calmly. “And I wouldn’t be asking you unless there was a good chance you could do it.”
“What gives you that idea?” She couldn’t believe this conversation was happening, and in the middle of a restaurant which was getting more crowded by the minute.
“Hannah and I talked last night.” He left it at that, but she understood.
Her clandestine singing activities had been revealed to him. And since Hannah had previously raved about Beth’s talent, she knew what sort of comments had been made to Tom. She had little hope of convincing him that she stunk.
But maybe she could talk the other members of Roadhouse out of this ridiculous idea.
She turned to Leo Harper, Tom’s best friend since high school. He was as fair as Tom was dark, with short, curly blonde hair and bright hazel eyes. “Leo, you can’t think this will work,” she entreated with open arms.
He shrugged his shou
lders, arms crossed over his broad chest. “We have to try. If you’re willing to help, that is.”
She liked the man, but right then his heavy Texas accent grated on her nerves. Sure, put it back on her.
“We need you.” Dylan Talbot looked like a gypsy with his wavy, medium-length black hair and equally dark eyes. He was undeniably good looking, but long eyelashes, prominent cheekbones, and a diamond stud sparkling in his left earlobe almost made him look too pretty. Almost.
Right now his exotic appearance didn’t hold her attention, but his simple statement did.
“There has to be someone who can do it better than I can. Don’t you guys know any singers from around here?” She looked at the remaining band members one by one, hoping for an affirmative response. From anyone.
Jack Fleming answered, but he didn’t say what she wanted to hear. “The three of us have been living in Georgia so long we wouldn’t know anybody up here who’s qualified. According to Tom, you’re it.” His brown eyes showed sympathy for her situation, but he didn’t help it any.
Beth turned from the sandy-haired keyboardist to her last chance. Sam Waters.
Who was, indeed, one tall, cool drink of water.
She’d never seen him without his battered black Stetson, so she was clueless about his hairstyle—it was even possible he didn’t require one. Sam did, however, have a dark, neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, and the bassist’s deep blue eyes always radiated intelligence and sincerity. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it was with a Joe Friday “Just the facts, Ma’am” attitude.
If there was any other choice available to the group, she knew Sam would come up with it.
“Beth, you’re our only hope right now.”
Crap. Her last chance for escape went up in flames.
“But,” Sam continued, “there’s no guarantee we’ll like your sound.”
And just like that, the fire was gone. She might still be able to squeeze her way out of this.
“What say you do a little audition for us? You and Hannah can run through some of the backing tracks, and we’ll see if we like how you two sound together. If we don’t think it’ll work, we’ll do whatever we have to do to get a different replacement. Sound fair?”
Leave it to sensible Sam to find a plan which was acceptable to everyone. The man originally hailed from Arkansas and still retained a faint southern drawl, but he’d also lived in many big cities of the Northeast. He was a superb blend of North and South, and, through experience, he knew the importance of compromise.
There was no way she could back out now without looking like a heartless brat.
Unless …
She turned to her father. “Dad? What do you think?”
Beth figured he really should have the final say. After all, he’d hired her to be a roadie. Taking Liz’s place would leave more work for the remaining technicians.
She waited, hoping George would take the decision out of her hands.
“Bethany, the guys will be able to pick up the slack if you want to do this.” Nods from the crew echoed his statement. “They’re experienced workers, and we’ve all had to make adjustments in the past, so don’t worry about us not being able to hack it this time.”
Yikes. Foiled again.
Beth looked back at Roadhouse. The men she’d once thought had juvenile mentalities were waiting for her answer with serious, yet hopeful, expressions on their handsome faces.
She couldn’t let them down. She had gained too much respect for them over the past weeks.
And she wanted to keep their respect, too.
“All right,” she relented. “I’ll audition for you.”
As smiles appeared on their faces, Beth pushed on. “But you guys need to be absolutely honest about how I sound. If I’m not at the standard I should be for your shows, tell me.”
“Sure.”
“No problem.”
More quick nods showed acknowledgement of her terms.
They’d readily agreed to be truthful about her talent, or lack thereof, but Beth had a feeling her life was about to change yet again.
•
Five hours later, Roadhouse had a new back-up singer.
The entire entourage had adjourned to their hotel after breakfast. Following check-in and a quick freshening up, Hannah and Beth had joined the band in their suite.
Where Tom was stunned by Bethany’s vocal abilities.
She had to have had formal training, because there was no way an I-just-sing-along-to-the-radio type of person could know what she did.
Everything Hannah had said about Beth was true: She could read sheet music, had terrific range, and sang like an angel.
But she also had an innate sense of what sounded good—something which could only come from personal experience.
Bethany’s clear voice was nothing like Liz’s more earthy, raspy one, and she knew not to try and duplicate Liz’s singing style. Instead, she figured out within two songs the right way to blend her voice with Hannah’s in perfect harmony.
The resulting sound was slightly different than Hannah and Liz’s mix had been, but even a repeat concertgoer wouldn’t be able to discern the difference. Tom was able to detect the subtle variation of the backing vocals because he’d been performing music for over half his life.
And because he was listening intently to every note spilling from Bethany’s full lips.
“I guess that settles that,” Dylan said as the women finished their final song together. “She’s in, right, guys?”
Leo, Jack, and Sam all nodded, confirming what Tom had known half an hour ago.
She was good. And she was going to help them salvage the rest of the tour.
Tom absorbed the shell-shocked look on Beth’s face.
Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as they’d all thought.
“Beth, could I speak with you? Alone?” His gaze traveled around the suite, searching for a private area to talk.
The bedroom—no, too much temptation in there.
The bathroom—no, that, too, was off limits after his lascivious imaginings of Bethany in the shower.
Leo interrupted his thoughts as they once again began to stray. “Hey, man, no sweat. We’re all heading downstairs for lunch anyway. When you’re through, come down to the restaurant.”
“Thanks, guys. See you in a few.” Tom’s smile and nod of appreciation included Hannah, who gave a wink and thumbs up to Beth as she left with the men.
A heavy silence followed the closing of the door, leaving Tom and Beth staring at each other as muted traffic noise from the street below filtered in.
The need to assuage the fear he saw on her face overrode his curiosity about her singing.
“Are you all right?”
“Tom, I can’t do this!”
Their simultaneous outbursts broke the ice, and they both smiled.
Tom waved a hand toward Beth. “You go first.”
“I just don’t think I can do this. I want to help, but I’m not sure I can.” She plopped down onto a sofa and leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling.
“What’s the problem? You’ve obviously had experience performing.” Which she’d neglected to tell him.
He banked down his irritation at that thought and tried once again to focus on her current concerns.
“My only performances were in community chorus events which had audiences of sixty people, tops. I sang in a group of thirty people, not as half a duo.”
Hmm. Interesting. He’d like to get back to that story later.
She turned to look at him as he joined her on the sofa. “I don’t want to be selfish. Really. But I don’t want to make a fool of myself again and ruin your chance at success while I’m at it.”
Aha. Back to the Eric Sharpe catastrophe again. Would the woman ever move on with her life?
He hoped so.
He lifted her hand from the cushion, placed a kiss on the palm. Then he laid it on his thigh, gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.
“Your voice is amazing. There’s no way you could ruin anything for us.”
Signs of doubt still remained on her face, and he wanted badly to make them go away.
Recalling George’s words of warning that the music had to come first, Tom resigned himself to spending little time alone with Bethany before Roadhouse’s next performance.
“Listen, the concert is two nights away. There’s plenty of time to rehearse, and we’ll run through the set as many times as it takes for you to feel comfortable. You won’t be singing in front of a full auditorium, but it’s the best we can do.”
A small smile appeared, breaking her somber expression. “Thanks.”
“No. Thank you.” He raised her hand for another brief kiss. “Believe me, the more you practice, the more familiar you become with the songs, the better you’ll feel on stage. You won’t even notice the audience is there because you’ll be so involved with the music. It’s intense.”
“Yeah, I’ve watched you perform. Intense is definitely a word I’d use to describe it.”
Another stricken look crossed her face. “Oh, my God! What about my clothing? Assuming I can actually do this, what will I wear?”
His eyes wandered over her tense form. “Relax. You and Liz are about the same size. Hannah is, too, for that matter. I’m sure something in the wardrobe will fit you.”
“But—”
“And,” he pressed on, “if for some reason nothing suits you, maybe the concierge can recommend a local tailor, or—”
“Or nothing,” she now interrupted him. “Don’t even think about buying me an outfit. I’ll make sure something fits. And I can do any minor alterations myself. I’ve acquired more than math skills in my life, you know.”
A perfect opening for his next comment.
“Yeah. I found out today that you have quite a few hidden talents.”
A pink tide slowly rose over her cheeks, but she remained silent.
“Why is it you neglected to tell me you could sing? And that you liked doing it?”
She pulled her hand away and curled up in a corner of the sofa, arms wrapped around her knees.
But he refused to be put off.
Tom moved closer, until her sandaled feet were touching his thigh. She looked at him with pursed lips, her displeasure palpable.
