“Let’s get moving. Time’s not exactly on our side right now.”
Jerking out of my reach, Gavin gets out the van without another word. I’m more than a little affected by what he’s told me and slightly frustrated that I didn’t get to say what I felt, too.
I can still feel you, Gavin. I can still taste you, too.
There’s a difference, though, the same difference that has always divided our feelings for one another.
“You’re the one person that’s supposed to be off-limits. I made a promise. One I intended to keep.”
His words from our conversation in a borrowed car repeat in my head. The truth is, I’m glad I still have part of him inside me. I’m savoring the taste of him for as long as I possibly can. But now there is something else inside me.
A sharp-edged fear that he regrets it—that he regrets me.
Mandy is waiting for us when we walk into the hotel. The second my perusal of the expansive lobby lands on her, she smiles a toothpaste-commercial smile at the three of us, stopping when she reaches me.
“Hi, guys,” she says, practically beaming at us. “You’re all checked in and here’s your key.” She passes the plastic card to Dallas before turning her attention to me. “There are some major players here tonight and I’ve been talking the band up to everyone who would listen.”
“That’s very . . . kind of you,” I say because I don’t know what else to say. We signed the preliminary contract Dallas had with him this morning, so she’s our manager now. But I honestly don’t feel like I even know her. She looks like she just stepped off the runway and I look like . . . like I just spent twelve hours in a van.
“It’s my job,” she says. “But Dixie, I could only get one room so I told your brother I’d be happy to let you room with me.”
Well that’s . . . unexpected.
“That’s a great idea,” my brother announces before I can say anything. “Especially since we all need to get changed and to the Palace.”
She turns to me and I give her the best look of gratitude I can muster. I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching myself being herded like cattle into the elevator.
I resemble a fish out of water, gaping between her and Dallas as they detail the plans for the next few hours. We’ll get ready, our van will be driven to the venue by Mandy’s assistant Randall, we’ll take a town car with Mandy to the Palace, meet and greet the executives in attendance, then perform. I focus on the last word. I need to play, need to work out the craziness of the last week and get off the emotional roller coaster I’ve been on for the last few days. Mandy tells us that there will be record label execs and Grammy-winning producers, along with promoters, music publishers, and booking agents, oh my!
Every word she says lands on my brother like a precious gift. They feel heavy to me. Like pressure. Expectations. The possibility of screwing up and letting him down or damaging our chances at obtaining a record deal.
“You okay?” Gavin whispers from beside me.
I nod because I can’t open my mouth for fear the truth would fall out. Or the drive-through dinner we had somewhere between Memphis and Nashville.
“This is you, boys,” Mandy says when the door opens on the eighth floor. “See you downstairs in twenty.”
As soon as they’re gone and the doors close, she turns her attention to me. Either I’m really wiped from the past week and hallucinating, or she has multiple personality disorder. My vote is on the second one. Her once bright, gleaming eyes that greeted us in the lobby are now dark and menacing.
“Now, Daisy May, what are we going to do with you?”
“Um, hopefully not murder me and pay someone to toss my body in a Dumpster.” I smirk, despite feeling a little afraid and a whole lot intimidated by her but refusing to let it show. “And it’s Dixie Leigh. Not Daisy May.”