Grant put an arm around her waist. “Sorry about your car. We can let the police know we’ll be back for it, but it’s stuck there for now.”
She hadn’t even thought about the car. Her crappy little Volkswagen that had gotten her out of one mess but right into another. She wasn’t sure she’d miss it all that much.
They made their way up the short but steep incline, trudging through the snow and getting soaking wet in the process. Brown Hoodie Devil Man pounded on the door, and when it opened, he climbed aboard first. Delaney followed with Grant right behind her. The bus was blissfully warm, and for that alone, she had to be thankful, yet the feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming.
As a kid, she’d spent hours on her father’s bus, along with Melody and Roxanne. They’d played with Barbie dolls on the bunks and had tea parties at the little folding dinette table. Her mom would let them have Kool-Aid and Swiss Cake Rolls and Delaney had always unrolled hers before eating it. Some of her favorite childhood memories were from days on that bus. It had sat in the driveway for a while after the last Jesse Masterson CD came out, but eventually her parents had sold it to pay other bills. No need for a tour bus when there were no tour dates to play.
“Welcome aboard,” said a chubby, balding man behind the mammoth steering wheel. He had a shiny head and a friendly expression. That missing tooth was hardly noticeable at all.
Their rescuer pushed the hood from his head, revealing dark brown hair that was either wildly styled or had gotten severely messed up in the gale-force winds they’d just hiked through. “Yes, welcome aboard the Paradise Brothers’ home away from home,” he said. “I’m Reggie. This is Sam, our driver.” He pointed to the chubby, bald guy. “This here is my brother, Finch.”
Another man, just slightly taller than Reggie with auburn hair and rust-colored freckles, came forward and extended his hand. “Howdy. Glad to see you folks are OK. That car of yours is damn near buried in the drift. Good thing our Sammy here has got a sharp eye.”
Sammy grinned. “Is that there a brassiere on the antenna?”
Delaney blushed. That brassiere had cost her ninety dollars, but all things considered, it was money well spent.
“Sure is,” Grant answered, smiling at her.
“Hey, folks. How y’all doin’? I’m Humphrey.” A fourth man appeared behind Finch and his velvet voice accompanied his dark brown arm as he reached around the redhead. Humphrey had the sweet-natured face of a third-grade spelling bee champion, but his suggestive wink told Delaney he was every bit a grown-up man. They all looked to be in their midtwenties. Handsome, fit, cocky too. She could tell just by their bright smiles. She’d spent her life surrounded by musicians. She could read these guys like sheet music.
Grant and Delaney shook hands with everyone while he introduced them. “I’m Grant. This is Elaine. Thanks so much for picking us up. It was starting to get damn cold in that car.”
Reggie chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. It looked downright steamy in there when I peeked in the window, yeah?” He patted the driver on the shoulder. “Sammy, let’s get this rig moving before somebody plows into the back of us, yeah?”
Sammy nodded, and Reggie motioned for them to sit down. There were two rows of pine-green suede sofas, one along each side the bus, and a small kitchenette just past that. Delaney knew with a quick glance that curtained sleeping bunks were toward the back, along with a bathroom. Standard-issue tour bus, and although this one was nice, it didn’t have the flashy rock ’n’ roll style of her dad’s old bus.
These guys were honky-tonk. Up-and-comers, most likely. If the y’alls and the howdys hadn’t tipped her off, they oozed a certain Southern comfort kind of charm.
“Where you two headed?” Reggie asked, sitting down next to Humphrey. Humphrey picked up a guitar pick and began toggling it over his fingers.
Delaney sat down near Grant while Finch leaned against the counter, his arms crossed loosely over a green-and-black plaid shirt.
Grant looked her way. “That’s a good question. Memphis, maybe.”
“Maybe?” Finch said. “Kind of shitty weather for a random road trip, ain’t it? Pardon my French.”
Delaney beamed up at him. She needed to spin this her way before Grant went and said too much.
“That’s kind of a funny story, actually,” she chimed in. “You see, Grant’s mother accidently took my phone when she left to visit her sister in Memphis and we’re hoping to catch up with her to get it back. So I take it you guys are musicians, huh?”