Shelby slides out of my lap and stands to meet him. “What’s wrong?”
He grabs her hands, tugging her toward the open bathroom door.
Jiggy’s body tenses, ready to spring into action and tackle Trent to the ground.
“Easy,” I warn Jiggy.
Trent’s rapid words are impossible to make out. But Shelby seems to be consoling him.
I join their conversation. “Everything okay?”
“No.” Trent wipes his cheeks. “I gotta go home.” He shoots a guilty look at Shelby. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Oh my gosh. You take care of your momma. That’s what’s important right now.” She yanks him close and hugs him. “Can we take you to the airport?”
“No, you gotta stay for the encore. I already have a car on the way.”
“That’s crazy.” Shelby reaches for me. “Logan can take you.”
“No, really. It’s fine. I’m all set. I gotta grab my gear from the van and go.” He lifts his chin at me. “Thanks, though.”
I hadn’t actually offered anything but I nod at him.
“I’m so sorry, honey. She’ll be okay. Your momma’s a fighter,” Shelby says, walking him to the hallway.
“Thanks.” He hugs her again before taking off.
Shelby bites her lip, her worried gaze following him down the hall.
“What happened?” I ask.
“What’s wrong, Shelby?” Dawson calls out from his dressing room doorway. “Where’s Trent runnin’ off to?” he asks as he joins us.
“His momma was in an accident. She’s in the hospital.”
“Damn, she gonna be okay?” Dawson asks.
“They didn’t give him a lot of info. He’s headed to the airport now.”
“All right. Well, keep me updated. If I can do anything for him, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
He pats her shoulder. “You did good tonight, kid. Real proud of ya.”
Shelby blushes. “Just when I got a handle on the nerves, tour’s over.”
“There’s always next year.” He glances at me. “You up for this again, next season?”
“Hell, yeah.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Might upgrade the RV to something bigger.”
“Well, I’m hopin’ she’s got a larger budget next tour.” Dawson winks at Shelby. “I’ve got high hopes for the songs we’re gonna put together next week.”
“Me too,” Shelby squeaks. “I’ve got a lot of unpolished diamonds.”
He squints at her, then shakes off the confusion and clamps his hand over my shoulder. “Look, for the last song, they got a ramp here that leads out to the crowd. I’m gonna walk through the arena.” He turns us so we’re facing the parts of the arena we can see from backstage.
People in the crowd notice. Fans jump and wave trying to get Dawson’s attention. Cell phones are thrust in the air and flashes go off.
He points to a riser near the back of the first level. “I’ll sing a few lines from there so the nosebleed seats can actually see me.”
“Is that safe?” In my head I’m picturing some of Dawson’s more aggressive female fans, clawing off his clothes.
“My guys go with me. I’ll shake some hands but no one gets too close. Y’all wanna do the same for Shelby on the other side?”
This kinda seems like something that should’ve been discussed and coordinated way in advance.
He points to another area on the other side of the arena. “Your guys can walk that row with her to the other riser.”
“If she’s comfortable doing it, yeah. We’ll work it out.”
“Good deal. No biggie if she doesn’t want to. It’ll work either way.”
Sure it will.
“I gotta get ready.” He slaps me on the back, then nods to Shelby. “I’ll see you out there.”
“Oh, yes.” Shelby’s flustered answer seems to amuse Dawson.
He cracks another smile. “Easy, darlin’. No different than the other times. We’re up there havin’ fun.”
When we’re alone, she tips her head back. Her questioning eyes meet mine. “Why do you want to get a bigger RV?”
I shrug, surprised she doesn’t have questions about wading into the crowd tonight. “Thought you might want more space. Especially if big ears is riding with us again.” I tilt my head toward the dressing room.
Her lips push into a thoughtful pout and I sense some sort of denial about to come out of her mouth. “We don’t have to talk about it now. You need to worry about your album and then taking some time off first.”
She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Holy moly.” Her eyes widen. “We’re supposed to be recording in a couple days. What if Trent’s not back?”
Shelby
Selfish.
I feel terrible that my first concern is the album.
Okay, that wasn’t my first concern. It took me a few minutes to realize I’m in a pickle.
“Breathe, Shelby.” Rooster rests his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s finish tonight. Get some rest. Then, hopefully you’ll hear from Trent in a day or two. You’re recording with Dawson first anyway, right?”
“Right, but Trent was supposed to work on his parts while I was doing that.”
“Can he record in Texas and send stuff to you, the way you’ve been doing on the road?”