You'd Be Mine(16)

“You’re right. Not yet, anyway. This is Clay’s tour, and he’s got a hell of a following.”

Jason throws his phone onto the counter and steals my water, taking a long swig. “Oh no,” he says after swallowing and passing it back to me. “Packed house already. They might’ve bought tickets for Clay, but word’s out. Those people out there are here for Annie Mathers.”

Kacey sprints for the bathroom again.

I sigh. “Kacey, I’m gonna need you to get ahold of yourself, chickadee. This here’s a trio.”

A muffled groan and more coughing.

“Knock, knock.”

“Come in,” Jason replies cheerfully.

“It’s just me.” Fitz steps through the door, closing it behind him. “Aren’t you missing one?”

I nod toward the bathroom. “Kacey’s got a case of the pukes.”

“Nerves?”

“Thanks to Captain Encouraging over there,” I say.

Jason rolls his eyes, fiddling with his ever-present drumsticks. “I’m just being the realist.”

I aim a scowl in his general direction. “I’ll thank you to sit on your realism. I need my fiddler.”

Fitz casts a concerned glance toward the closed door. “I’ve got something that’ll help. Be right back.”

A minute later, he returns with a bottle and taps on the bathroom door. Kacey opens it a crack, and he holds the bottle in front of her face, wiggling it in his hands. “Liquid courage. Come on. It’s tradition.”

“Distribution to minors is a tradition?”

Fitz flashes a grin and waggles his rusty brows. “Only when it’s by other so-called minors.”

That little nugget gives me pause. “Wait, how old are you?”

Fitz smirks. “I turned the big two zero last week.”

“No shit?” Jason asks.

“Yes, shit. That’s between us, though. Ain’t no room for legalism on tour, Annie. That’s lesson number one.” He quirks a look at Jason. “Write that down, young apprentice.”

I smile despite myself and scoot forward on the couch. Fitz pulls a couple of shot glasses out of his back pockets and lays them out on the coffee table in front of us.

“Now,” he begins in a serious tone. “One is too few; three is far too many. But for our first night, we have to take queasy stomachs and all-around nervous jitters into account. So we’ll do two half shots.”

“So one,” I say, amused. Kacey is already reaching for hers as he pours.

He protects the glasses with a palm and looks at me. “Lesson number two: Fitz always knows best. I say two half shots, and that’s what we’ll do.” He passes the glasses around, and I see mine reads: Spring Break Panama City.

“Wait. Do you travel with these?”

“Lesson three: always be prepared. Drink!”

I watch as my band members drink. Kacey is dainty; Jason, full of false bravado. Fitz is already pouring the next. He raises a brow at my untouched glass.

“No, thanks.”

“Not nervous?”

“Oh, I’m full of butterflies. But I don’t drink.”

“How do you know?”

I offer him a patient look and point to my throat. “I’m not interested in finding out if golden vocals are all my momma left me.”

A dark shadow falls across Fitz’s face. “Fair enough. I won’t ask again.” He turns to Kacey, and Jason and lifts my glass. “For the rest of us, it’s best not to wait. To your first night of many. May you change the world with your music.”

“Wow, that’s lofty—” Jason mutters.

“Lesson number two!” He reminds him loudly. “Drink, apprentice!”

I swallow hard against the itch in my throat as I watch them. I’ve never so much sipped my grandpa’s Budweiser, but that doesn’t stop my brain from thinking it might be a good idea to try. I take a long swig of my ice water and shake out my fingers. I meet Kacey’s eyes. She’s no longer sweaty and green. Now she’s flushed, but smiling. “Feeling better?”

“Much.” She turns to Fitz with hero worship glowing out of her blue irises. “That was amazing, thank you!”

His face reddens under her attention, and I have to swallow my own grin. “That’s nothing. Just a little show biz trick. I always keep some on hand for Clay. He’s not technically allowed to pre-drink this tour, but if I don’t get a few shots in him, he clams up, and that’s no bueno for the party tour of the summer.”

“Sounds like a banner start to alcoholism.”

Fitz smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he shifts in his seat. “Probably. That’s what I’m around for, though. Everyone needs a buddy. Do you all have your tour buddy? Someone to keep you out of trouble?”

I can’t help but smile at his antics. I’m grateful for devil-may-care Fitz.

“Let’s sing ‘Should’ve Been You’ tonight,” I say impulsively.

Jason groans. “We can’t change the set now; we have ten minutes.”

“Why? It’s not like we have backup dancers or anything. You know it, Kacey knows it, I know it.”

“I thought we agreed to stick to covers tonight,” Jason replies, looking anxious.