Page 27 of Hero on the Road
On one hand, Connor was right. Atomic had left us out here on our own and it was pretty freaking hard to care what they thought about how we might make money while we were here. On the other hand, we were out here literally singing for our supper because we wanted the contracts Atomic was offering. We’d be idiots to put those in jeopardy just for some extra shows.
I’d called both Parker and Taylor, trying to get copies of the thing, but the coverage out here was terrible and the best I’d been able to do was hustle into the coffee shop before we left Great Falls, use their WiFi, and send emergency messages to both of them.
Then we were on the road, hauling butt for Cascade and our next tiny appearance.
At least this one had been organized by the record label. If independent appearances were vorboden, I was hoping we’d find out before we made any of them.
I looked around the tiny theater now, my fingers holding the microphone stand in front of me, and clicked my tongue. The mic picked it up perfectly, the sound echoing through the small space, and I felt a thrill run through me. I didn’t know what this theater had been before, in this tiny town that made Arberry seem cosmopolitan, but the acoustics in here were phenomenal. I’d been in sound booths that didn’t have this nice a sound, and I couldn’t wait to play in here.
It was going to be even better than expected, too, because the place didn’t have any sound equipment other than the microphones we had in front of us. No amps or speakers. So we’d be playing only with the tiny amp we were traveling with.
Acoustic show, indeed.
When Connor walked through the front door—late, as usual—I laughed.
Because he was once again carrying a white lily.
“Are you late because you went all over town searching for that?” I asked sharply. “Because some of us have been in here getting everything set up and our set list figured out.”
“No,” he said, reaching me. “I’m late because I wanted to get something to drink before the show started. Finding this was a mistake. It was growing right outside.” He reached up and tucked it behind my ear, sending shivers racing across my skin and right into my belly.
I swallowed, trying to still my racing heart, and put a hand up to the lily. “What’s with you and lilies, anyhow?”
He shrugged. “I like them. And they look nice in your hair. Besides, at this point I figure they’re like a good luck charm or something.”
I snorted at that. “Because you gave them to me once?”
“And we had a good show afterward,” he said pointedly. “The best show.”
Normally I would have agreed with him about that. I was a believer in good luck charms, and I was a believer in good shows. But I was also unsettled by how close he was standing to me and how his touch had set butterflies fluttering in my belly. And being unsettled made me cranky.
So I chose to keep arguing.
“That’s one example. Not exactly long-term proof.”
But Connor, who refused to take anything seriously, just chuckled. “Well I guess it’s still good luck in its testing phase, then. When this show goes well, we’ll talk again.”
He turned without waiting for an answer, picked up his guitar, and strummed a chord. “Wow, this place has amazing acoustics.”
“I’d already come to that conclusion while you were gone,” I snapped. “Are you ready to warm up or what?”
He gave me a sarcastic, narrow-eyed look, and then started playing the first song. I jumped in right after him, feeling sour and shaken and not at all ready for a show. This was so unlike me. I was always beyond excited when I was about to start performing, and I almost never snapped at my friends.
Particularly when those friends were my only companions on the worst tour of all time.
But I’d spent all last night staring at the roof of our borrowed van, forcing myself not to think about how close Connor was laying to me and how he sounded when he was sleeping. I’d spent far too much energy not remembering the last time we’d slept in the same space. And now here I was jumping out of my skin because he’d tucked another flower behind my ear.
Come to think of it, no wonder I was jumpy. I was feeling things for him I had no right to feel. Thinking things I knew I shouldn’t be thinking.
And I needed to stop it right now, before I ruined everything.
* * *
“Don’t know what you see in me!” I sang, pitching my voice to harmonize with Connor’s. I stood back and grinned out at the audience, who had picked up the chorus and were singing at the tops of their lungs with Connor. We didn’t have much power behind our sound—just that one tiny speaker—but you’d never know it by the way the audience was reacting. Half of them had come for the show’s start and the other half had wandered in when we were already singing—probably because there wasn’t much else to do here—and now we had a packed house.
And there was a ton of noise.
People were cheering and shouting out requests, dancing and singing along with us. And though none of the requests were foroursongs—how could they be when people didn’t even know our sings?—we’d played them the best we could, faking it when we didn’t actually know the chords, and this had become more of a party than a show. Beer was flowing—someone had brought a keg—and someone else was barbecuing in the back of the building, and the whole thing was...
