Of course she already knew that, but she also knew getting them talking about themselves would distract them from asking questions about her. The old bait-and-switch technique. She tried to look starstruck, as if musicians were the coolest thing ever. As if Eric Clapton didn’t play golf with her dad.
“Yes, ma’am,” Finch answered proudly. “We’re the Paradise Brothers. Based out of Nashville but we just played a couple of gigs up in Michigan and Indiana.” He leaned over and playfully cuffed Reggie on the back of his head. “Remember next winter, only shows down south, Reg. This weather is a crazy bitch. Oh, sorry for that French again, ma’am.” He looked apologetically at Delaney, but there was more sparkle in his eye than genuine remorse.
Delaney smiled back and batted her lashes in pseudo-awe. There were platinum records hanging on the wall back at her parents’ house, but these guys did not need to know that.
“Well, fortune smiles, yeah?” said Reggie. “We just happen to be headed to Memphis ourselves. We’re booked on Beale Street in a couple of days, so you’re welcome to ride along with us.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble? We don’t want to put you guys out,” Delaney said. An hour or so in their company was one thing, but it was a ten-hour drive to Memphis from where they were, and in this weather, it could take twice that long. Even though these guys were country, they would have heard of her dad. He’d been out of the scene for a long time, but his reputation lingered. And it was a small step from knowing Jesse Masterson to recognizing her. She pulled her bangs down over her forehead.
Reggie’s dark brows pinched together. “What kind of gents would we be if we just dropped you off at the next rest stop with no car? It’s no problem. We’ve got plenty of room, yeah? But if you want us to leave you someplace, of course we can. We’re probably stopping off near Champaign tonight.”
Delaney turned to Grant. “I need to call my sister. Is your phone working?”
He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. “I don’t know if you’ll get a signal but you can try.”
“Um, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” She glanced up at Reggie.
“Of course not, but if you just want privacy, feel free to go in the boogie-woogie room.”
Grant started laughing and she couldn’t hold back her smile. “The what?”
The rest of them snickered like sassy frat boys. Finch leaned forward and pointed down the hall to the room at the end. “The boogie-woogie room. It’s the only real bedroom on the bus, so whoever brings a lady on board gets to sleep there. Guess you’re in luck, sweetness.” He nodded at Grant and Delaney felt the entire women’s movement take a giant step backward.
“Meanwhile,” Reggie added, peeling off his hoodie, “this thing is soaking wet. I’m going to change and throw this stuff in the dryer. Say, are you two as wet as me? You want to toss your stuff in to dry?”
She was wet. That trek through the snowdrifts had left her jeans soaked, and wet denim was not comfortable, but neither was the idea of taking off her clothes on a bus full of men.
Humphrey jumped up from his seat and pulled a duffel bag from one of the bunks. “I got some stuff you can wear.” He rifled around in it for a minute before pulling out a pair of black athletic pants with a white stripe down the leg, and a T-shirt. He handed them to Delaney. “Here, you can wear these while your stuff dries.”
Finch pulled another bag from a second bunk and pointed at Grant. “Yeah, I got some stuff you can wear.”
Grant held up a hand. “No, that’s OK. I’ll—”
Finch shook his head and interrupted. “Do unto others, man. You can change in there.” He pointed to the infamous boogie-woogie room.
Delaney looked at the offered garments. A white T-shirt? It couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“I don’t suppose you have a bra inside that duffel bag, do you?” she asked.
Humphrey’s grin split wide, making him look even younger, yet even naughtier.
“Oh, hells yeah. We got bras. We got lots of bras.” He stepped to the side and opened a drawer. Full of bras. Then he pulled open the drawer beneath it. “We gots panties too.”
His eyebrows did a little hula dance and Delaney laughed.
“Now, that might seem a little strange, sweetness,” Finch offered, “but the ladies, you see, they like to toss us things when we’re onstage, and we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. So we scoop up whatever they send our way, and when we have a bagful, we drop them off at Goodwill. Everybody wins.”
“And some of these have just been left behind. You know, souvenirs,” Humphrey added, as if there were any question. “But don’t worry. All these feminine undies have been freshly laundered.” He lowered his voice. “Reggie loves to wash the panties.”