Page 24 of Falling for the Guy Next Door

“And that is where you are wrong. There is no direct access. Spotting him on the beach is one thing, but that’s where the intrusion on his privacy ends. Got it?”

I didn’t like that she was still wearing that plotting smile. “Right. Got it. Does that mean you don’t have a frozen pizza?”

I pulled her along. “C’mon, I think we’ve got one.”

ChapterFourteen

Nash

It was Wednesday, so I’d hoped for a smaller crowd size. The summer heat had made the bar hot and stifling, but people were still trickling in long after it seemed the room was packed to capacity. I’d been looking for one, and only one, face in the crowd. I saw her friend, Emily. She’d found the same spot up front near the speakers and was standing with another woman. Layla wasn’t with her.

I was glad when the last set was finished. Bosco had been in a bad mood all evening, and it seemed the rift between us was getting wider and deeper. I knew this was still about the European tour. I planned to talk to him, to all of them, while we were packing up the van. I realized I was ready to let this whole thing go, the band, the nightly gigs, the constant movement around the country. Unfortunately, I needed the money, so I’d have to find another way to supplement my day job.

“Nash! Hi, Nash,” a voice called down the hallway. “Let me through, Betty, he’s a friend.” It was Emily. Betty was blocking her from walking down the corridor.

“It’s all right, Betty. Like she said, she’s a friend,” I called.

Betty rolled her eyes and begrudgingly allowed Emily to walk through. Betty had unofficially appointed herself as our band’s one-woman security team. Emily practically flew down the dark, narrow passage. A smile nearly split her face in two.

“Thanks so much. I didn’t think she was going to let me through,” she said breathlessly. “She’s always such a grump. You were amazing tonight. I had to leave my friend, Raylene, out in the barroom because I didn’t want to bother you too much. But you said you’d sign my CDs.”

I was hot and thirsty. “Follow me. I’ve got to get some water, then I can sign them.”

Ronnie looked up from her phone when we walked inside. She raised a brow. “Uh, Ronnie, this is Emily. She’s a friend of Layla’s, the woman who’s been walking Rocky.” I grabbed a bottle of water and offered one to Emily, but she declined.

Ronnie looked pointedly over at Bosco who was putting his guitar away. Ronnie knew Layla was the woman Bosco tried to hit on at the last show, and her rejection had put him in a bad mood for the rest of the night. He hadn’t noticed the exchange. Or, at least, I thought he hadn’t.

He clicked shut the guitar case. “You hired a friggin’ dog walker for that mutt of yours?”

“My friend, Layla, lives next door to Nash,” Emily added excitedly.

Bosco shrugged. “Well, that’s convenient.” Then his face turned up. “Wait. Layla?” Bosco looked at Emily. “You’re her friend, the napkin phone number,” he added, unnecessarily.

“That’s right. You were talking to Layla that night.” Emily put on a sweet frown. “I’m sorry she didn’t give you her number. She’d just broken up with a guy, and he didn’t make it easy—if you catch my drift.”

“Whatever,” Bosco said rudely. He shot me another glower and snatched up his guitar case. “Let’s get the van packed. I’m beat, and I wanna leave.”

Seth popped his head in right then. “Van doors are open. Ronnie, are the drums ready?”

“Not sure, let me ask them. Oh, that’s right. They’re not living beings, so they’re probably ready.”

Seth held out his hand in question. “What did I say? Jeez, maybe you should carry them out on your own.” Seth left. We were all tired, and the stage lights had made the room extra hot.

I smiled weakly at Emily. She was still standing with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon.

“The CDs?” I asked.

“Oh, right.” She tapped the side of her head playfully. I guzzled the water as she dug into her purse and pulled out three CDs and a purple pen.

I started signing them. “Why didn’t Layla come with you tonight?” It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question, but something about it shrank her giant smile.

“Why didn’t Layla come?” she repeated. Her tone had lost its enthusiastic, lyrical quality.

“Just wonderin’.” I shrugged to let her know it was no big deal, but she read it as something entirely different. Maybe she wasn’t wrong about that. The truth was—for the last two days at work, I’d rushed to pull out my phone at break time, hoping there’d be a text or photo from Layla. It seemed my usually comedic dog hadn’t done anything entertaining enough to warrant it.

“Uh, yeah, she has to work early, so she didn’t want to come out tonight.” The boisterous Emily had grown quiet. I finished signing the CDs and handed them back with a smile and wink.

“Thanks so much for listening to our music. It’s people like you who keep us playing and singing.” I was working hard to repair whatever it was I’d just done, but she smiled faintly, and that was when I noticed her eyes were glassy with tears.

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