Fade Into You (Shaken Dirty #3)(73)
Flopping back down on the couch, she opened her laptop and pulled up the directory of artists’ phone numbers and addresses. She scrolled through until she found the number she was looking for, then dialed it on her phone with fingers that were shaking just a little.
She was so freaked out by the thought of her father’s reaction that she nearly hung up three times as she waited for Drew to answer, but the second his slow, Tennessee drawl came over the line, she knew she’d made the right choice. No matter what happened after this, Wyatt—and Shaken Dirty—were worth the risk.
“Hello, Drew? This is Poppy Germaine from Six Strings. I’m Bill Germaine’s daughter. How are you?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Are you sure we shouldn’t cancel?” Ryder asked, glancing down at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“We’re not canceling. We’ll go on without a bass player if we have to, but canceling isn’t an option, not now.” Quinn held up his own phone. “Someone spotted Jared arriving and put a photo of him out on Twitter more than an hour ago. The fans know we’re here—it’s why the place is so packed. We are not canceling another gig on them.”
Though he knew Quinn wasn’t leveling a dig at him, Wyatt still felt the sting of his words. He tried not to dwell on it, though. Not when they had other issues to deal with. Like the fact that they should have been on stage ten minutes ago, but were stuck in the dressing room hoping Poppy delivered the bass player she’d promised them.
“So why are we waiting?” Jared demanded. He was pacing the room like a wolf trying to catch the scent of prey, doing his best—Wyatt knew—to work off the nerves he got before every performance, no matter how big or small. “Let’s just get out there and give them a show—”
“We’re waiting,” Wyatt told him, “because Poppy asked us to. Let’s give her another few minutes, see if she shows up with whatever mystery bass player she’s got on tap.”
“Who could she get? She’s a marketing person, not a music person. Besides, we’ve checked out all the top guys looking for bands right now.” Quinn got up, grabbed a Twinkie from his bag. “Unless she’s going with some undiscovered guy, and in that case, don’t you think we should have had a chance to vet him first?” He ate the Twinkie in two quick bites. “Besides, how much pull could a social media director have, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know who she got. I don’t know how she found him.” He pulled out his phone to text her and ask, but saw that she’d beat him to it. He swiped on to her text then groaned out loud as he read it.
Poppy: Sorry, flight delayed. We’ll be there in fifteen
The text had come in close to ten minutes ago.
“What?” Jared asked, pacing toward him.
“The good news is, they should be here in five,” Wyatt said, holding up his phone.
“Who?” Ryder demanded. “Who should be here in five?”
“Whoever the hell Poppy’s got on tap. His flight was late but they’re on their way now.” He held up his phone to show the rest of them her text. “Now you know as much as I do, so can we all just stop freaking out? Everything’s going to be fine.”
At his words, Jared stopped pacing and just stared at him. “Who are you and where the f*ck is Wyatt Jennings?”
Wyatt flipped him off and rolled his eyes.
“No, really,” Ryder chimed in. “Usually you’re the doom and gloom guy we have to keep settled. So what’s up with this whole everything will work out persona of yours?”
“Seriously? I’m trying to be reasonable here, and you make it sound like I’m pulling rainbow colored unicorns out of my ass or something. I’m just saying, why freak out if I’ve got a text from Poppy that says she’s going to be here in less than five minutes?”
“You’re right,” Quinn said, hands raised placatingly. “You totally are. It’s just we’re not used to the new, enlightened Wyatt. It’ll take some adjusting.”
He started to flip them all off again, but in the end he just shrugged. Because they were right. Resolving to cut out the drugs had changed him. Meeting Poppy and listening to what she had to say about him—and about his relationship with the rest of the band—had changed him. Chilled him out. Made him more ready to trust that everything wasn’t always about to go to hell.
If he were honest, he’d have to admit he kind of liked his new outlook. Almost as much as he cared about Poppy.
Not that he was going to tell Quinn and the others that. During the last few days, they’d done enough of the Kumbaya sharing shit to last a lifetime. But before he could think up a suitably smart-ass remark, Poppy came rushing into the room, dragging a tall guy in worn jeans and cowboy boots hot on her heels. He was carrying a plain black bass case. “I’m sorry we’re late, guys! So, so sorry! But I want you to meet Drew Fitzpatrick. It turns out he’s a big Shaken Dirty fan.”
“Drew… Holy shit,” Quinn said, dropping his bag—and his second Twinkie—as he all but leaped over the couch to shake Drew’s hand. “I’m Quinn Bradford. I’m a big Drew Fitzpatrick fan.”
Drew grinned as they shook. “I notice you didn’t say you were a big Smoke and Mirrors fan.”