Run Rose Run(73)

“Can I play in my socks tonight?” she asked. “My boots are too tight.”

“I think you know the answer to that question,” Ethan said, opening the beer and taking a long, cold drink.

“How about barefoot? Hillbilly style?”

He just shook his head. AnnieLee had learned a lot from Ruthanna, but she couldn’t be convinced to care about perfect stage makeup or glamorous costumes. “If it doesn’t matter what I look like when you’re listening to me on the radio,” she’d say, “why should it matter when we’re in the same room?”

Ethan could see her point, but he felt that shoes onstage were nonnegotiable.

So AnnieLee wore her too-tight boots for her performance that night, along with a pair of loose jeans and a low-necked T-shirt that showed her delicate collarbone. He watched her stride onto the stage, gaze out at the crowd and up to the rafters, and then give the room a smile as bright as any spotlight. The crowd cheered, and she began to play.

“A rough road, we’ll walk it,” she sang.

“Never give up, we’ll talk it.”

Her voice seemed even fuller and richer than usual, and in between songs, she joked and bantered with the audience as if they were old friends. She was a born performer, Ethan thought. She fed off the crowd, and she grew more energized the longer she was onstage.

He was leaning back, relaxing and letting the music flow over him, when he heard his name coming through the PA. The front legs of his chair banged hard on the floor as he sat up, suddenly alert.

He looked over and realized that AnnieLee was staring at him from center stage. “You gonna come give me a hand or what?” she said into the microphone. Then she turned to the crowd. “Don’t you want to hear my friend help me out with a little harmony?”

The answering applause made it clear that Ethan had no choice in the matter.

Man, he thought, getting up and shaking himself out a little, the way he used to do before a boxing match. She really should’ve warned me. I would’ve done a shot.

But then he jogged out onto the stage and took the second guitar from its stand. For a second, the instrument felt as foreign to him as the first rifle he’d ever held—like something he had no idea how to use. But then AnnieLee smiled her beautiful, wild smile at him, and his nerves eased. He knew how to do this; he’d done it a hundred times before. Smaller crowds, sure, and local ones—but did that really matter? He stepped up beside her and put his mouth to the second mic. He’d even remember to introduce himself this time.

“Hello, Tulsa,” he said. “I’m Ethan Blake, and usually I’m just the chauffeur these days. But tonight I guess AnnieLee and I are gonna play a song for you.”

He looked over at her. Her eyes were shining.

“I don’t know about you,” she said to him, “but I’m feeling like we should honor the woman who brought us together.” She turned back to the crowd. “That’s Ruthanna Ryder, everybody—and I know you all love her as much as I do.”

As the crowd cheered, AnnieLee strummed a chord progression that Ethan instantly recognized. Tapping his foot to the beat, he joined her in song.

Big dreams and faded jeans

Fit together like a team

Always bustin’ at the seams

Big dreams and faded jeans

He leaned into the microphone, the spotlight bright in his eyes, the stage solid beneath his boots, and AnnieLee by his side.

I could get mighty used to this, Ethan thought.





Chapter

62


Ethan rode high on their duet until they were heading back to their hotel at midnight. He was gliding down Cincinnati Avenue when he felt a sudden prickle of alarm along the base of his scalp. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the lights of the car that had been following him for several blocks. They didn’t belong to a black truck—he could see that much. But this didn’t necessarily reassure him. Camouflage was easy; anyone could rent a different car.

He looked over at AnnieLee. Her eyes were closed, her feet were on the dashboard, and she was softly singing the song she’d helped him to write.

Lost and found, I’m safe and sound

No more drifting aimlessly, I’ve settled down

She had no idea that he was worried, and he decided to keep it that way. He looked behind him again. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, he thought.

Without signaling, Ethan made a few leisurely turns so that he was now heading in the opposite direction. He passed a Dollar Tree and a gas station, and then a car lot, its empty vehicles gleaming under the streetlights. Whoever was driving the car behind him kept close, and AnnieLee remained oblivious. Soon she wasn’t singing anymore. But it wasn’t because she’d noticed anything. It was because she’d fallen asleep, her head against the window, cushioned by the jacket he’d given her.

Ethan was glad that she could relax, even as he felt the chill of certainty crawling over his skin. It wasn’t paranoia on his part. Someone was following AnnieLee, and this wasn’t even the first time he’d sensed it on tour.

He knew it wasn’t Mikey Shumer. Crooked as Mikey was, Ethan had believed him when he’d said he had nothing to do with it. Mikey Shumer wouldn’t waste his time or his money, not when he could nab the next hungry up-and-comer, especially one who’d be less stubborn than AnnieLee.