Page 29 of Hero on the Road
But here’s the thing. Atomic sent them out here on their own. No managers, no agents. No band. No roadies. They don’t even have a tour bus.
I mean they have a van. But it’s nothing to write home about.
They don’t have any backing from their label, which means they don’t have any money. And that’s the best part.
They’re doing shows on the side to pay for their food and board. They’re literally singing on corners with their guitar cases open. They’re the working men (and women) of the country world, singing for their supper while on tour for their record label, because the suits don’t want to have to lay any other money out.
People, I ask you. Is this fair? To put artists out there without any backup and make them fend for themselves on the streets?
I think not.
But you’d never guess it to look at Olivia and Connor. They’re putting their hearts into every show, whether that show is in a bar, theater, or on the sidewalk. They’re playing in parking lots and at fairs, and if you ask them whether they’re bitter or upset, they’ll tell you they’re not. They’re counting on coming back here next year, and they want everyone to remember them.
Now, the good news is that this means they’re playing in towns that would never get Atomic’s attention in a million years. They’re kissing babies and sampling barbecue, and every time I see them, they’re picking flowers. Is it the most sophisticated tour ever?
No.
Is it the most down-home, friendly, intimate set of events I’ve seen?
Absolutely.
Folks, if you’re in the area, you have to see them. We’re just outside of Cascade right now, and Olivia tells me we’re going to take the 15 as far as Helena, then take the 12 to Townsend. From there, we’re heading for the 89 and then the 90. We’re going to head for Billings and hit every small town and popcorn stand between here and there. Olivia and Connor will be singing their hearts out at every truck stop and theater, and I’m guessing they’ll put on a better show than you’ve ever seen.
As for me? I’ll be in the back, writing as fast as I can and trying to figure out how to one-up Connor when it comes to giving Olivia flowers.
Get your butts to a show and let me know what you think! I’ll see you on the road!
-C
CHAPTER17
Olivia
Connor finished reading and looked up at me over the picnic table. “Liv, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I think this guy might have a thing for you.”
He said it with a straight face, looking entirely serious, and I reached out and poked him.
“I’ve heard.”
This wasn’t, after all, the first time he'd said this. It wasn’t the first time we'd taken a break to read about our own exploits via Colin’s blog, and it wasn’t the first time Connor had gone right to the fact that Colin talked about me more than he talked about Connor.
It was bad enough having a blogger write about me like I belonged to him. Having Connor read it just made it even worse. At least Colin was honest about how he felt. And he always laughed about it. He’d write a blog, then sit down with me for a drink or at lunch and joke about how his fans were taking votes on whether we were going to get married or not.
I liked Colin. I liked his goofy glasses and his floppy hair, and I liked that he was always making me laugh.
I liked that he was honest about how he felt.
Connor...
I’d always thought Connor was one of the most honest guys around. He’d been almosttoogood when we were in school, always stepping up to save the little guy or the girl who needed help and never trying to hide who or what he was. But being on the road with him was making me think he hid more than I’d realized. I’d catch him staring at me sometimes, looking thoughtful, or feel his presence at my back and feel like he was just about to reach out and touch me. He’d been picking flowers and putting them in my hair before every show, letting his fingers brush my skin as he pressed the stems behind my ear.
And on more than one occasion, he’d turned and sung right to me, his eyes a deeper blue than I’d ever seen them.
More than once, I’d been sure he was about to say something to me about what we’d gone through at Christmas. At least bring it up. More than once, I’d thought he was going to kiss me.
I’d had no idea how I felt about it. I didn’t know if I wanted him to kiss me or not, and I sure as hell didn’t know how I felt about him. But we’d been right there on the edge, just waiting to step over that line into Something More.
And he’d pulled away every time. Dropped his eyes, turned to the side, blown right past the moment.
