Leaving Amarillo(74)
“And because of Dallas,” I say, because I know it’s true even if I don’t know why exactly.
He nods. “Yeah. That, too.”
My brain is processing his words at the speed of churning molasses but my heart and lungs seem to grasp them immediately. My chest swells between us, grazing his with the considerable effort it’s taking to breathe normally.
“Bluebird,” he begins, lowering his face to mine so that our noses are almost touching. “Seeing you in this dress is killing me because I know how other men are thinking about you when they see you in it. For instance, that Brian guy was practically salivating.”
“He wasn’t—”
“He was. He still is.” Before I can check over my shoulder, Gavin lowers a hand to my hip and speaks low into my ear. “Give me a break, baby. I know we had our night and that’s that, but you haven’t even showered my scent off you yet. So forgive me for still maintaining an alpha male sense of ownership over your body. You’re going to have to give me a little more time before I can stand idly by and watch another man wish he had what I did last night.”
“And this morning,” I add with a sly grin.
“And this morning.” For a moment we’re just sharing a secret smile, locked in a mutual memory I’m ready to relive as soon as humanly possible.
“Everything okay?” Dallas says, his voice bursting the lust bubble that had formed around Gavin and me.
“Yep,” I say, taking a step backward as Gavin releases me. “Just going over the last-minute details.”
“We straight, Garrison?” he asks Gavin without looking at me.
“As an arrow, Lark. Time to go on?” We look up to see Cold September starting their last number.
“Almost. Let’s head backstage,” Dallas says, casting a wary gaze that lingers over the two of us.
“Lead the way, big brother,” I say, anxious to get this over with.
Sweat rolls down my back and I decide to play without the jacket. Once we’re backstage, I remove it and set it on a chair. Mandy’s eyes meet mine knowingly. She shifts her smug gaze to Gavin and lifts her chin.
Damn it. She knows.
A full-blown panic attack looms on the horizon as Dallas runs through the set list with us one more time.
She’s been paying closer attention than Dallas has and now the one person I don’t trust knows my biggest secret. She sits back like an ominous voyeur as we prepare to set up. I start to wonder how much she’s seen, how long she’s been watching. My stomach twists and turns while it sinks it that she has something on me—on me and Gavin, really.
“In every aspect of life, there are players and moves to be made. There are winners and there are losers.”
I finally understand exactly what she means. She’s the player with the advantage now. That advantage being knowledge of something I never intended for my brother to find out.
Question is, what will she do with it?
I don’t have to wait long to find out how Mandy plans to use her leverage. We have twenty-five minutes from the time Dallas says, “Welcome, y’all. We’re Leaving Amarillo, managed by Mandy Lantram. Thank you for having us,” into the microphone until we sing “When You Leave Amarillo,” an obscure song from long before our time that Dallas found on YouTube and had us put our unique twist on.
The butterflies come to life in my belly in perfect time with the tingling that begins in my toes and ends at my head. I tame the fluttering creatures with my notes, finding my peace on stage when they begin to dance to the music I’m creating instead of slamming around wildly.
The audience seems divided, more of them perking up and paying attention when we play “Whiskey Redemption” while several of them return to texting or chatting with the person next to them during our covers. I stop noticing them and focus on playing, on putting the passion Gavin poured into me into Oz. I live between the strings, playing as though my soul is trapped there and the only way to set it free is to play every note perfectly.
I almost miss a cue because Dallas notices that the standard country covers aren’t holding anyone’s attention and throws in a few more originals and a reworked R&B hit we’ve only rehearsed a few times. By the time it ends, I can’t breathe. I’ve been so caught up, I don’t know if we blew the room away or f*cked it up completely.
Dallas thanks the audience and carries his guitar offstage. Gavin is behind me when we exit stage left, drumsticks tapping out my anxiety on one another. I want to grab them and throw them. I’m placing Oz in his case when Mandy meets us backstage.
“That was a decent show, guys,” she says, giving my brother a pointed look. “It could’ve been better. I think I saw better than that in Austin, which is unfortunate since this is the show that actually matters.”
“All of our shows matter,” Gavin says evenly.
“Right, of course.” Mandy stops in front of Dallas. “Thankfully each band gets to play an encore. So hopefully that will go a little smoother. I’d like to chat briefly about song choice for that one. But first, Dixie, can we talk?” She steps around my brother, gently placing a hand on his forearm. “Private girl chat, you understand,” she says to Dallas and Gavin, dismissing them. I don’t bother giving either one of them pathetic please-don’t-leave-me eyes because there’s no point. Gavin catches my gaze and I nod that I can handle her.