Rhythm of the Road

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Dex and Jigsaw. I was hoping I’d run into you while I was out this way, but never thought it’d be here.”

  He smirks and gestures toward the stage. “My daughter likes the opening act a lot.”

  “You don’t say.” I run my hand over my chin. Looks like tonight’s going to work out well for me in several ways. Z wanted me to make sure relations between our clubs are one hundred percent solid, and here I am with two backstage passes burning a hole in my pocket.

  “Think she’d want to meet her?”

  He cocks his head, as if he’s assessing me before answering. I don’t have a reputation as a joker, so he must realize I’m not fucking around. “You have a connection?”

  “Kinda.” I grin and pull out the passes. “Shelby’s my girlfriend.”

  His eyes widen and his expression slides into a slow, knowing grin. “No shit. Let me text her.”

  While he slips out his phone and sends his daughter a text, I pull out mine and text Shelby.

  You mind if I bring a friend backstage? His daughter is a big fan of yours.

  She answers right away: Sure!

  Chaser’s daughter joins us a few minutes later. It’s hard to say if she favors her mom or dad more, but she’s a pretty woman maybe a few years older than Shelby if I remember right.

  “What’s up, Dad?”

  He lifts his chin. “You remember Rooster?” He smirks at me. “It’s been a while since he paid the clubhouse a visit.”

  “Uh…” She gives me a blank expression. “I’m sorry, I don’t. Hi, Rooster.”

  “That’s all right. Good to see you, Angelina. Shelby’s right backstage if you want to meet her?”

  “Sure!” She bounces up on her toes, her excited gaze dancing between her father and me. “Thank you so much.” In an instant, she went from a woman being polite to her dad’s friend to an over-excited fan.

  As we walk backstage, I nudge Chaser’s arm. “You were all heavy metal back in the day, weren’t you? How’d your daughter rope you into this show?”

  “No matter how old your kids get, they always have you wrapped around their finger. Remember that.” He laughs. “No, seriously, her friend flaked out, and I didn’t want her coming to a show this big by herself. And I listen to a little bit of everything.”

  Angelina’s an adult, but the overprotective dad thing from Chaser doesn’t shock me one bit. “Good call. Lot more assholes than I expected.”

  “No kidding. I honestly think it’s worse now than when I used to play.”

  We reach Shelby’s door, and I knock before pushing it open. Shelby sets her guitar down and shines one of her smiles our way.

  “Hi!” She blinks and stares at Chaser, then me.

  “Shelby this is a friend of mine, Chaser A—”

  “Chaser Adams! Oh my gosh.” She hurries over and holds out her hand. “In Your Hands was one of my daddy’s favorite albums. I listened to it over and over growing up. Gosh, you were a phenomenal guitar player. I mean you are a…shoot. Sorry. So nice to meet you.”

  Jesus. When Shelby said she knew all years and genres of music, she wasn’t kidding.

  Chaser takes her gushing in stride. “Thank you. Must be mutual appreciation night. You’re very talented. And my daughter’s a huge fan of yours as well.”

  Poor Angelina’s cheeks turn red and her eyes bug out. She seems…shocked…or maybe embarrassed. After a second or two, she raises her hand and wiggles her fingers at Shelby.

  Shelby pulls her in for a hug. “Thank you so much for coming tonight.”

  Angelina blinks and finally smiles. “The day those tickets went on sale—”

  “She begged me to get them for her,” Chaser finishes.

  Angelina rolls her eyes. “I’d defend myself but Dad’s absolutely right.”

  The girls move over to the couch to talk and I lean against the wall. “You still get recognized a lot?” Damn, that must be awkward as fuck when he’s on club business.

  “Fuck no.” He glances over at Shelby. “Shit, she couldn’t even have been born yet, the last time I put an album out. I’m just as shocked as you.”

  I chuckle and slap his shoulder. “She surprises me every day.”

  “How long you known each other?”

  “Not long. We met down in Texas.” I shrug. “Visiting with her while she’s in town.” The smile slides off my face as that last part comes out of my mouth. After tomorrow, who the fuck knows when I’ll see Shelby again?

  “They rolling out tonight right after the show?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Well if you’re gonna be in the area, you’re more than welcome to stop by the clubhouse. Welcome to stay if you need a place to crash too.”

  “Appreciate that.” If Shelby was sticking around, I planned to get a hotel room. If they left tonight, I planned to unroll a sleeping bag and spend the night in the back of the truck. A room at the Devil Demon MC’s clubhouse might be slightly more comfortable.

  Someone knocks, prompting Chaser and me to move away from the door. I open it to find Greg. Poor bastard’s really gonna flip his shit when he finds yet another biker in Shelby’s circle.

  “Hey, they’ll be ready for her in fifteen minutes or so,” he informs me before ducking out again.

  “Okay.” I pull out my phone and send Jigsaw a text.

  Chaser raises an eyebrow but he’s too respectful to ask any questions.

  “Meet-and-greet thing. Fucking security is a joke,” I mumble, waiting for a response.

  He glances over at Shelby. “Entire industry is different now. I don’t envy her at all.”

  “How so?”

  “First, she’s probably getting paid peanuts. Don’t get me wrong—suits took advantage of musicians back in my day too, but it’s even worse now. Doubt they’ll cough up much money for shit like security. Or if they do, they’ll take it out of her royalties. She’ll still be paying off her first album when she’s recording her third.”

  “Fuck.” My gaze lands on Shelby. I’ve never asked or stuck my nose in the business end of her career…because it’s really not my business. But I fuckin’ hate the idea of anyone taking advantage of her.

  “I kept my fingers in the publishing end for a long time. Writing for other artists. Suited me much better. I don’t know what her deal is.” Chaser shrugs. “Some go hybrid and keep more control of their catalog. A tour for a big name like Dawson Roads, she probably has label support of some kind. The exposure they can get her is a blessing but the rest can be a curse.”

  “She came off one of those music reality shows.”

  He nods. “Yeah, that definitely wasn’t a thing back then. Mallory and I got approached by a bunch of those lowlife reality shows maybe ten, fifteen years ago. Thank fuck we always turned ’em down.”

  “Shit.” I shake with laughter. “I could see your dad blowing a gasket, bringing exposure like that to the MC.”

  “Right?” He laughs with me. In the biker world, Stump’s not exactly known for his easygoing personality. “The club’s not the only reason we turned ’em down, though.” He tips his head toward Shelby. “If she got her deal that way, I’m sure it’s exploitative as hell. Hope her manager’s got her looking into other streams of income.”

  “I’m not sure what he does to earn his keep.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly objective either.”

  “True.”

  Shelby approaches both of us, with Angelina trailing behind her. “I’m sorry, I have to—”

  “No problem, sweetheart.” Chaser holds out his hand. “Appreciate you taking the time.”

  “You’re more than welcome to hang out here if you want.” She glances around the dressing room. “It’s nothing fancy.”

  “We’re fine.” He lifts his chin. “Told Rooster you two have an open invite to stop by the clubhouse while you’re in the area. If you need a place to crash or just want to visit.”

  “Thank you.”

  He shakes my hand.
“Offer extends to Dex and Jigsaw too, obviously. Mallory would love to say hi.”

  “Careful. Jiggy will take you up on it for sure.”

  Chaser’s jaw twitches. Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the smartest comment. It’s no secret Chaser’s one hell of a vigilant caveman when it comes to his wife.

  There’s another knock at the door. “Bet that’s them now,” I say as I twist the knob.

  But it’s Dawson.

  This dude. Again.

  “Hey, Shelby.” He glances at me. “Logan, good to see ya tonight.” His gaze shifts to Chaser and Angelina, lingering on Angelina too long for Chaser’s taste if his narrow-eyed expression is any indication.

  Fuck, this could get awkward.

  “Hey, Dawson.” Shelby threads her arm through Angelina’s. “These are our friends, Angelina and Chaser—”

  Dawson shakes himself out of his Angelina-induced trance. “Chaser? Chaser Adams.” He squints at Chaser. “I bought a few songs from you in my early days.” He grins wide and sticks out his hand.

  “Sure did.” Chaser quickly shakes his hand and motions to Angelina. “My daughter and I were just heading out. Thank you, Shelby.”

  Dawson actually tips his baseball cap to Angelina as she brushes past him. Thank fuck Chaser’s already out of the room.

  Shelby tosses me a wide-eyed what-just-happened expression, and I shrug.

  “Did you need something, Dawson?” I ask to get his attention off Angelina’s ass.

  “Huh. Oh, yeah.” He throws a quick scowl my way. “Shelby, you up for another song with me tonight?”

  “Oh my gosh. Yes! Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  “Apparently, it got some good play in the press, and, well, you know.” He shrugs. Big name or not, sounds like Dawson has to answer to higher-ups too.

  Honestly, it eases my annoyance with the guy. Seems like he’s giving her the opportunity to appease his record label, not to get in her pants. It’d be nice if he was doing it purely to help out a fellow artist but I’m not dumb enough to think that’s the way this business works. Plus, I’m impressed he came to ask her himself instead of sending one of his minions.

  “All right. I’ll see you later.” He ducks out, closing the door behind him.

  “Sorry,” Shelby says. “I thought we’d get to spend more time after my set—”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m thrilled for you.” Yeah, I wanted to soak up every last second with her too but this is a great opportunity and I’m not going to ruin it by being a sulky dick.

  I hold out my hand. “Ready?”

  She peers into the mirror and fluffs her hair. “I think so. Does this dress look okay? It’s vintage.” She reaches down to swish the skirt around. “My mom wore it in high school. Everything old is new again, right?”

  “Sure, I guess.” I glance down at my plain T, leather cut, jeans, and boots. “Not sure you want to take fashion advice from me, though.”

  She tips her head back and pats my chest. “I like your look. Casual and sexy.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  “If I ever get nominated for a CMA or an ACM, or something, I promise I won’t ask you to wear a tuxedo.”

  Well, shit. Escorting Shelby to some high-profile event never occurred to me. The idea of mixing with that sort of crowd turns my stomach. My disgust must be written on my face, considering the way Shelby recoils.

  “Never mind, that’s silly. I’m sure it’ll never happen anyway.” She scoffs. “No one’s nominating the bimbo from the reality show for any awards.”

  “Hey, don’t talk about yourself like that.”

  “Rooster, seriously, that’s how everyone sees me.” She balls her hands into fists. “A joke.”

  “Shelby, I don’t think Dawson would be asking you to perform with him if he thought you were a joke.”

  She snorts. “It’s probably to fuel rumors that we’re a couple or something stupid like that. He just broke up with another country artist so the gossips are all fanning the flames over who’ll be warming his bed next. I’ll send you the link for that blog post. You’ll see.”

  I couldn’t give a fuck about Dawson’s love life. “I’m serious.” I grab her hand and force her to look at me. “Don’t let a stupid post written by some slob living in his mom’s basement do this to you. You’re damn talented. Even I can see it, and I know dick about any of this.”

  “You’re biased.”

  “I know what I see when I look out in your audience.” I press my hand to my chest. “I know what I feel in here when you get onstage and open your mouth.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, knock this shit off and let’s get you ready for your show.”

  Her lips twitch. “So bossy.”

  “I’m told it’s one of my more desirable qualities.”

  She chuckles as I open the door. Normally, I’d have her go ahead of me, but I’m not sure what she’ll step into, so I block her with my arm while I check out the hallway. Crew members move around equipment. Most I recognize from the other night. Others have shirts indicating they work for the fairgrounds. To my right, Jigsaw and Dex are muscling their way through the crowd.

  “Took you long enough,” I say when they reach us.

  Shelby pokes my side. “Rude.”

  I grin down at her. “That’s me being polite.”

  Jigsaw slaps my arm. “Yo, Chaser’s daughter—”

  “Don’t go there. For the love of fuck. Don’t.”

  “What? She’s really nice.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what was on the tip of your tongue.”

  Dex elbows Jigsaw in the ribs. “He behaved. Thought he was going to explode with the effort of keeping his mouth shut.”

  Jiggy rubs the side of his head. “I think I blew a fuse or something.”

  “Jesus.” I jerk my head to the side and step into the hallway, motioning for Shelby to get in the middle between us. “She’s going to be late.”

  The three of us form a semi-circle around Shelby—a good thing since the line to get into the meet-and-greet room is long. No one really notices her until we’re already past them.

  Once we’re in the room, Greg rushes over to us. “You’re all set up in here. No photos with guests tonight.” He gestures toward the table. “Just stay behind the table. Answer questions, smile, sign stuff.”

  “You know I can’t say no to pictures,” Shelby protests. “That’ll break the kids’ hearts. They want to post that stuff online. Half the reason they come to these things is to take a picture with me.”

  He turns and searches the area. “There’s no setup for it.”

  I gesture to Jigsaw. “We’ll move the tables. She can come around to the side if someone wants a picture. Three of us will make sure no one gets out of line.”

  Greg takes a long, deep breath, clearly not in favor of my plan. Not that I really give a fuck. “Please keep to the background.”

  “Last thing I want is to make a scene, Greg. Trust me.” Z will kick my ass up and down the Thruway if I bring unwanted attention to the club. Especially with Priest breathing down his neck.

  I’m still not letting anyone mess with Shelby, though.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Shelby

  Tonight, there were no incidents while meeting the fans, and my set went off without a hitch. I’m almost starting to believe I’m an actual professional.

  I rest my hand over my stomach, willing the butterflies to settle. Waiting through Thundersmoke’s set and most of Dawson’s is torture. Usually by now, I’m in my jammy pants, winding down in my hotel room or on the road to the next destination.

  And tonight I’ve got one hot hunk of man I desperately need some alone time with before we have to say goodbye.

  “Shit, I forgot to give you this earlier,” Rooster says.

  “Give me what?” I turn and he’s pulling a small white paper bag from the inner pocket of his cut.

  He shrugs. “I hope she didn’t feed me a line of b
ullshit,” he mutters, shaking a small white box into his palm.

  “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  I slip the top of the box off and stare at the clear quartz stone suspended on a fine purple silk cord. “Logan,” I breathe out, “It’s so pretty.”

  “The woman told me it was supposed to absorb negativity and bring peace of mind.” His brows draw down, suggesting he thinks it’s all hogwash. “Thought it would help you tonight and then I forgot to give it to you before your show.”

  Aware that he thinks esoteric, spiritual stuff is silly, I’m touched he even considered buying a crystal, let alone talked to anyone about its healing properties. When did he even have the time? I thought he went off with his brothers for dinner but he found me a present instead?

  “Thank you,” I whisper. I hold the box up. “Will you put it on for me?”

  “Sure.” He carefully lifts the necklace out, works the small clasp loose and drapes it over my head.

  The cool weight of the crystal settles against my skin and I glance down. “Thank you,” I whisper. Why am I getting so choked up over a gift?

  I turn to show him.

  “You like it?” he asks. “Is that what it’s supposed to do, or did I get taken?”

  I chuckle at the note of uncertainty coloring his question. “Yes, clear quartz is supposed to remove negativity and promote harmony. Thank you.”

  We don’t have much longer. One of Dawson’s roadies grabs my attention. I steal a last kiss from Rooster.

  Clutching my microphone, I follow the roadie down the long metal walkway leading to the platform under the stage. I slip in my earpiece and wiggle my jaw, humming a few notes to calm my nerves.

  “Ready?” one of the techs shouts.

  I flash a thumbs-up.

  Dawson’s booming voice is slightly muffled, but it sounds like he’s announcing my appearance.

  The platform shakes before rising into the air. Mist dances around my feet as the contraption lurches to a stop. Stage lights blind me, then disappear. Fake-smoke smell tickles my nose. Please don’t let me sneeze.