“I guess. But the writing part. All those little nuggets I’ve been collecting, he’s the one who helps me polish ‘em into diamonds.” My hands flutter around, as I try to explain the process. “We’ve always worked well together.”
“All right. One thing at a time. Get changed.” He cocks his head toward the stage. “Sounds like Thundersmoke’s almost finished.”
“Dang.” I rush into my dressing room. Rooster throws out everyone except Jigsaw, then starts tapping away on his cell phone.
Nervous, my mind flips through all the potential outfits to wear for my last time on stage. It’s a mismatched collection of stuff I haven’t worn yet for one reason or another.
A sparkly red miniskirt with long fringe catches my eye. I thought it was pretty when I bought it but never figured out what to wear with it. I grab a denim shirt and a wide, gold belt I’ve never worn either. “Think this will go with the red boots you bought me?” I ask, holding up the bundle.
“Do you really want either of us giving you fashion advice?” Jigsaw answers. “What’s wrong with what you have on?”
“Don’t,” Rooster warns under his breath. “Come here a second,” he says to me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if you heard him before, but Dawson asked if you want to walk out into the crowd during your song together. You feel like doing that?”
I’ve watched Dawson do a loop through the crowd once or twice. And I’ve always been a little jealous. I’d love to be able to connect with the crowd like that.
“Yes!”
My enthusiasm dims. What if there’s some creep in the crowd waiting to grab or grope me?
Rooster seems to read my concerns. “We’ll be with you. Steer’s going over the procedure with Dawson’s guys right now. We’ll meet you. Help you off the stage, surround you as you walk up the aisle. You can shake hands and say hello, but we won’t let anyone rush you.”
“We’ll keep our little songbird safe,” Jiggy promises.
“That’s a lot of extra work for you guys.” It seems unfair to spring this on everyone at the last minute. Steer, Dex, and Pants were probably looking forward to the after-party.
“No big deal,” Rooster assures me.
“Let’s do it.”
“Good.” Rooster’s warm smile reassures me. He nods to the bundle of clothes in my hands. “Go, try it on.”
I scurry into the bathroom and wriggle out of my dress. The denim shirt is lighter and softer than I remembered. Hopefully, it won’t be too hot on stage. I tuck the tails into the red skirt. The wide belt pulls the pieces together better than I expected. My boots are a duller shade of red than the skirt but the only other thing I have that might work are gold spike heels and I am not in the mood for those foot prisons.
I turn and pose in front of the mirror. The fringe swings around my knees giving the skirt the illusion that it’s longer. The overall effect is country cute with a smidge of gaudy. Perfect.
“Ta-da!” I shove the door open and flounce out.
Rooster chuckles at my over-the-top entrance. “Looks good.”
Jiggy’s too busy laughing. “You’re so cute, songbird. I’m gonna miss this.”
“I’m sure I’ll find plenty of ways to entertain y’all when we’re off the road.”
Jiggy grins even wider.
“Come here.” Rooster curls his finger at me.
I sway closer, expecting a good luck kiss, but he ends up straightening some of the fringe and pulling a loose thread from my skirt. When he’s finished, he has me spin around. “I think you’re ready.”
“Let’s do this!” I pump my fist in the air, trying to psyche myself up.
Dawson’s already about a third of the way through his set, sweating profusely under the bright lights. The impressive way he works the stage and crowd still enthralls me even though I’ve seen him perform many times now.
I want this. Fifteen years from now, I want to be where he’s at professionally.
I slide my gaze over at Rooster. But I don’t want any of it if this man isn’t standing by my side.
“Nervous?” he asks.
“No.” I reach for his hand and curl my fingers around it. “Happy you’re here.”
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “No place else I wanna be, chickadee.”
During a quick break, Dawson dashes toward us. His assistants rush to bring him water, a towel, and generally make a fuss over him.
“Ready, darlin?” he asks me.
“Whenever you are.”
“Thundersmoke flaked. Already rolled out. So it’s just us.” He grins, winks, and returns to the stage.
I replay the words. Thundersmoke snubbed Dawson and took off? That’s hella rude.
“Guess they won’t be getting invited back,” Rooster says against my ear.
“Guess not.”
At least Kenny and Abram are here, so it’s not just me. I nudge Kenny. “Did Trent get to the airport all right?”
“Don’t know. Car picked him up. He’s supposed to text us later.”