“Great,” he says. “That’s really great, Shiloh. You’re playing the Staples Center again tonight, right?”
“Yeah. And then we have a day off before we’re in San Diego,” I say, the tiniest flicker of hope tickling my heart.
“Excellent. Let me see if I can work something out with Billie to meet before you leave southern California. Hopefully we’ll have a chance to talk in person very soon.”
“That would be great,” I say. “Thanks.”
I disconnect and press the phone to my forehead. “God, please,” I whisper into the quiet of the bus. I don’t pray, but I sure as hell am now. Because I want this…Lilah and me together again, doing our music. Nothing could be better.
#
“How about if, instead of taking it up and connecting the bridge, we go low instead, right there,” Tro says, pointing to the bit of scrap paper we’re jotting notes onto.
I strum the strings, working though the chord progression and find he’s right. It works, but it’s unexpected. “But then, on the backside, we can bring it back up so it ties into the chorus here.” I work the strings as I explain and Tro nods along with the beat.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket. After our show, I told Billie I was staying for Roadkill, but they finished playing over an hour ago. The venue is nearly empty, but Tro and I are still in Roadkill’s dressing room, playing with melodies.
“Billie’s wondering where I am,” I say, setting his guitar aside and standing from the floor, where we’ve sort of set up camp. There are bowls of chips and a few scattered beer bottles from our impromptu picnic.
“I’ll walk you back,” he offers, even though the buses are just outside the back doors.
“I think I can manage to get there on my own,” I say.
He ignores me and stands, brushing crumbs off his jeans. He shoves his hands in his pockets and we head toward the rear exit. “You should really call Freddie.”
I wasn’t planning on telling him until he talked to Billie, because I’m trying really hard not to get my hopes up in case this explodes in my face. “I did.”
He looks at me. “How’d it go?”
“Good,” I say. “He’s going to try to set up a meeting with Billie and me before we leave SoCal.”
He nods a little. “He’s a really good fit for you, Lucky.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d sent him tracks?”
His eyes are a little wide when they flick to me then back to the floor. “Guess I didn’t want you know I’d taped some of your stuff. Feels a little stalkerish.”
I give him a hard look. “Only if you play it over and over while doing unspeakable things to yourself.”
He fights the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth as he punches open the door. “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.”
We start across the lot toward the buses, and when he takes my elbow gently in his grasp, the slow burn that started under my skin as we were working flares into a bonfire.
“So…what’s the deal with you and Max?” he asks as we pass their bus, where there’s clearly a party raging.
I glance through the front window and just make out Max in a crush of female bodies in the front lounge. “He thought he was going to make me fall in love with him.”
“Working?” he asks, his grip on my arm tightening slightly.
“I think he finally gets I’m not hooking up with anyone on this tour,” I say. “Too awkward.”
We reach my bus and he lets me go, but his eyes don’t. “Good to know.”
I open the door to the bus and Tro watches me up the stairs. “We should finish that song,” I say, trying to keep the tickle of desperation I feel out of my voice. Tonight some inky layer of Tro sloughed off and something shiny winked out. I want to see more of whatever that was.
He nods. “Definitely.”
“Night.” I close the door, and when I turn, Billie is staring me down from her usual spot at the table. I think she’s going to lay into me about being with Tro, but instead, she stands and plants a hand on her hip. “Why am I getting a phone call from Fred Palmer?” she says, shaking her phone in the air with the other one.
“Did you talk to him?” I ask.
“No! He’s pond scum, Shiloh. I got a message from him saying he wanted to meet with us tomorrow. Why would he even think you might be interested in moving to A&M?”
I cringe. “I kind of called him.”
She throws a hand in the air. “Why would you go behind my back and do that?”
“I just wanted to talk to him about doing Lilah’s music. He’s heard some of it and he says he really likes it.”
“Just because he says it, doesn’t mean he’ll do it, Shiloh. People say all kinds of things in this business that they don’t mean. Promises mean nothing until they’re signed in blood on a contract.”
“Why can’t we just talk to him?” I ask. “See what he has to say?”