The Lipstick Outlaws flags, white with the red lips logo, were unfurled and hung in the corners of the stage. Instruments, lights, and cables were set up and triple checked. Like a colony of bees, their stage came to life. Smiling at each other, Cinnamon and her tour sisters stepped out and went to their spots. The crew smiled at each other, wide-eyed and eager.
“Our own tour,” C.C. said, a catch in her voice. “We have arrived.”
“We’ve come a long way. We earned the right to be here.” Mac glanced up at the flags.
Cinnamon looked out at the empty seats, soon to be filled with people willing to spend their hard-earned dollars on tickets and spend their time to come see them. Tears filled her eyes.
“We’ve arrived. We made it.” The fire inside her leapt to life, and her toes tapped a rhythm and a big smile covered her face. This is what she dreamed about.
* * *
Two hours later the show ended, and Cinnamon let out a spontaneous shout of delight while pumping her fist in the air. She felt she could jump up and reach the stage screen where she and the others were displayed. Sweat drenched her neck and hair and rolled down her back. She mopped it off her forehead and smiled as she looked out over the cheering crowd.
They were on their feet, applauding and whistling and waving back. She’d forgotten that with the lights, all she could see were the first few rows, losing the rest to dark silhouettes. She glanced at her bandmates and read the same awe and joy in their faces she felt in her heart. They shared the great pleasure of realizing a dream come true every night. They were so lucky and blessed! Together, they were six heartbeats striving toward a single, shared dream.
Katie Lyn waited for the cheering to lessen and then held her hands out. “Everyone, meet the band!” She introduced each one in turn, the camera flashing their happy smiles on the big screen. “Taylor on the piano, C.C. on drums, Rissa with the guitar, Mac with the bass guitar, and Cinnamon on fiddle and banjo. And I’m Katie Lyn. Thank you so much for coming!” They waved, blew kisses and made their way offstage. The first show of a new tour—their tour—and it was done. And it had been a great success.
“Oh wow, I can hardly breathe.” Taylor grabbed Cinnamon and dragged her into a hug. “That was so great!”
“I know, Tay, I know. I still have chills.”
They all embraced, exclaiming and crying.
“Everyone, great job.” They complimented crew members passing them by. As the ticket holders made their way out and past the merchandise tables, the Outlaws crew had to breakdown and pack up all their stuff. Full tours with band, crew, family, and equipment didn’t travel light. Cinnamon and the girls slowly made their way through the influx of people moving like a colony of ants.
“Oh, hey, remember back when we used to go to a Waffle House after shows while the crew packed up?” Mac asked as she raised a finger to the yellow and black sign across the street. “Shall we resurrect our old ritual?”
The Waffle House sign glowed invitingly. Murmurs circled the group. Cinnamon considered a patty melt with fries flooded with ketchup. It tasted good in her memory.
“I’m in,” she said as they stepped onto the bus. They threw off their stage clothes and slipped into their regular street grunges. Truth be known, there wasn’t a lot of difference in appearance, but the practice kept their laundry under control. As Cinnamon stomped back into her boots, her cell phone rang.
Nick? Who else would call her on a Thursday evening? Most everyone knew it was the first day of the tour. What did Nick do now? Wait, it was a Nashville number, but not Nick’s and not the kennel where Jasper was. Worry clenched her stomach as thoughts of fries and patty melts slipped away. Her finger trembled as she pressed accept.
“Congratulations. Was it a big success tonight?”
“S-Silas?” She stuttered out his name.
“Yes. I thought I’d call and congratulate you and the band. How’d it go?”
That was thoughtful of him. She shifted hands with the phone, smiling back at the smile she heard in his voice. “Wonderful. Sold out. Standing ovation.”
“Fantastic. Good for you guys.”
“Thanks. So, how’d you know when to call?” She swore she could feel him shrug.
“Lucky guess based on past concerts I’ve attended. I figured worse case, I’d get your voicemail and I’d leave you a message.”
She turned away from the other girls, who had stopped what they were doing to listen in. Privacy was unheard of on a bus. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Silas.” Her tongue tripped over saying his name and warmth spread across her face.
“Now what? You pack up and hit the road?”
“Almost. We have a road crew who handles all our setting up and breaking down. We were just talking about going over to the Waffle House across the street while we wait for them. It used to be a tradition for after shows, starting with our audition at The Turquoise Horse.”
“In that case, I won’t keep you. Have a good evening, Cinnamon.”
Did she detect disappointment in his tone? “You, too, Silas.” She disconnected the call, turned around, and nearly stumbled into Mac.
“Silas? You got a boyfriend?” Mac elbowed Cinnamon.
“Hardly.” Cinnamon pushed Mac away and headed toward the glowing yellow and black Waffle House sign. “He’s just . . . um . . . someone I hired to fix my brother’s remodeling damage.”
* * *
Silas sat back and laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He really didn’t know what made him call Cinnamon like he did. He’d just been sitting here, sharing some late dinner brats and fries with Gunner and listening to the radio. One of his favorite Kansas songs came on. Kansas had been the first concert he attended. He and some college buddies went, driving four hours and spending the weekend, to catch them in concert. He loved every second of it, and it made him think of Cinnamon out there performing in her own concert. Talk about chasing a dream!
He admired her guts. He fed Gunner the last of his brat and bun and dialed her number as he grinned and watched the dog chew through the bun and lick his lips hopefully for more. Then he smiled bigger when she picked up. She sounded tired but exhilarated, then puzzled as to his call. Well, he was a bit surprised by his impetuousness, too. It also told him that despite their friendly comradery before she left, she still considered him the hired guy. He hoped to change that. He hoped to one day be considered her friend.
While staring at the ceiling, he had a thought. What was the name of her band? Something about biker chicks. He smiled, remembering the day he teased her about it. Wow, was that only days ago? Her eyes had flashed with defensiveness, ready to protect her band. Then she slid into indifference with a shrug of her shoulder, as if his opinion didn’t matter to her.
A less watchful man might have missed her subtle changes, but he liked watching Cinnamon. She started out with one emotion, usually something hot, only to check herself and slide into indifference. Why?
“Move over, Gunner.” He nudged the dog off his laptop and turned it on. Biker chicks? Oh yeah, he snapped his fingers. Lipstick Outlaws. Close. Who in the world thought of that name?
He typed the name into the search bar. What filled his screen took his breath away. Square after square of images of the ladies. Some were promo shots and they smiled big for the camera. Others were action shots with the girls on stage. He scrutinized each one, looking for Cinnamon. She favored leather clothing; black leather pants, brown leather vest, and cream leather cropped top. She alternated between them, usually using at least one for most appearances. Except for the awards show in Vegas. That pinkish colored dress was jaw dropping. She looked great in it! While he liked her in t-shirts and holey jeans, that dress or the cropped tops and leather pants she wore on stage showed off her glamorous side. And he liked it.
Next, he clicked on the links. Their website showed more photos, bios of each member, their beginnings at The Turquoise Horse bar, and their tour schedule. He sent that inf
ormation to his printer. He clicked a few You Tube links next. Like an addict, he clicked again and again, digging further down that rabbit hole. The CMA Awards, with more views of her in that stunning gown. Shows where they opened for Miranda Lambert, a very successful and multi-award-winning singer, and also a few studio interviews.
Two hours later he stopped, utterly spellbound. He reached for the ginger ale next to him and took a swig. It had long turned tepid.
7
Cinnamon pushed her plate away and patted her belly. “That was good. Why’d we ever stop coming to these?” She looked at the group seated at the round table they’d commandeered.
“I think that was C.C.’s idea.”
“It was not!” C.C. punched Mac’s arm. “It was Rissa’s.”
“Nope.” Rissa threw a piece of her peanut butter waffle at C.C. “Pretty sure it was Cinnamon’s. Maybe Katie Lyn’s.”
Cinnamon lobbed a ketchup drenched fry at Rissa, who tore off another piece of waffle.
Mac tossed a forkful of cheesy grits at C.C.
They giggled like high schoolers. Nearby patrons turned to watch.
“Enough. Everyone.” Taylor held up her hand.
Katie Lyn tapped her spoon on the water glass, making a ringing sound. “Regardless of who may or may not have nixed our old ritual, it was nice to come here tonight. I’m amazed how much I missed their southern pecan pie.” She waved down the waitress and gave her a to-go order. “I know Mama’s already fed Madison and put her to bed, so this can be their breakfast.”
“You’re such a good mom,” C.C. said. “And daughter.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I’m dragging my little girl and my mother all over the country. What will Maddie think when she’s older and looks back on this time? Will she resent me for not giving her a stable childhood?”
“I think she’ll be really good in geography.”
Katie Lyn grinned at Rissa’s logical comment. “Thanks.” She turned to Cinnamon. “But seriously, will she resent me one day?”
“Are you thinking of quitting the band?”
Katie shook her head. “I’m not sure. I’m loving this, really, and I love you all. Like sisters. But I have Mama and Madison to think about. They always have to be first in my life. Ahead of everything.”
“Does that include your dreams?”
Cinnamon shot Mac a look and reached out to touch her friend’s arm. “Kat. Don’t sweat it. Madison is having a blast right now, and it’s the right now you need to focus on. Your mom is loving all the traveling. So, for right now, just roll with it. Maddie’s only four. You have plenty of years ahead to warp her mind or for her to grow up and hate you like all teenage girls do with their parents.”
They all laughed. It was true. Heads bobbed in unison. Who hadn’t gone through that difficult stage? Cinnamon sighed, struck by the fact an hour ago they were six professional musicians sharing one dream on stage to a few thousand fans. Now, they were six girlfriends sharing a late-night meal, a bit of playful food fighting, and discussing parenting.
“I agree with Cinnamon,” Taylor said. She stretched and snagged the last two fries off her plate.
They each laid down their tips and took their checks to the register.
“I get shotgun,” Cinnamon claimed as they walked outside into the cool air. They stood under the red awning.
“It’s hard to make a call from up there.” Mac nudged her arm, grinning wickedly.
Cinnamon pushed Mac. “I’m not calling anyone. I just want to see where we’re going. Madison’s asleep, so it’s a good break for me to be up front.” Plus, she might enjoy listening to Danny talk about his wife and family.
“We’re going to Oklahoma and don’t think you’re off the hook to explain about this guy of yours. Silas.”
“Whatever.” Cinnamon brushed pass Mac and headed to the front of the bus. “Where to next, Danny?” she asked, settling herself in the ultra-plush captain’s chair. She’d always liked their first bus, christened the Lipstick-Mobile, but she really liked the luxury and comfort the new one offered. And the Lipstick-Mobile was recycled for the stage crew and to tow another trailer of their equipment. She smiled at the image they made as they pulled into town with two buses and two trailers. What was next? A semi maybe? The big artists had semis, sometimes several of them. Plus at least two or more buses. Wouldn’t it be nice for the Lipstick Outlaws to eventually have a fleet of vehicles? Unless Katie Lyn did leave the group.
“Louisiana,” Danny replied to her question. “Then on to Texas and Oklahoma. Any musical requests?”
“No. Whatever you like is fine.” She stopped and nibbled her lip. “Actually, yeah. Do you ever listen to heartland or alternative rock music?”
Danny directed the bus into traffic. “Sometimes. I like C. C. R. and Springsteen is the best.”
“Okay, how about Springsteen?”
“You got it.” Danny thumbed the dials on the steering wheel until the strands of acoustic guitar and harmonicas filled the cabin. Cinnamon tilted her head and turned her ear to the music. The landscape gave way to the grassy fields of Louisiana. Cinnamon kicked off her shoes and propped her feet on the dash. She withdrew her pen and notebook from the pocketbook next to her chair. Like Taylor, she preferred the old school method of writing song lyrics long hand first.
Any man who wants to be mine, shut up and listen up if you wanna be mine.
You might think you’re all that, but I ain’t impressed just yet.
I’m talking horse rides by moonlight. Long nights in the hayloft, skinny dipping, and apple cobbler cooling on the stove. I’m talking beer in a plastic cup. Tailgate dates and starlight wonders. Shovels and rakes. Holding hands on the front porch swing by the light of the yellow bulb. Fireflies dancing in the pines.
She stopped and crossed lines and drew lines to connect thoughts. It looked like the proverbial chicken scratches.
“Having trouble there, girl?”
“Umm hmm. I can’t get the melody or the rhyme to come together.” She closed the notebook. “I know what I want to say, I just can’t get it on paper.”
Danny nodded, never taking his eyes off the road. Somewhere along the line, they’d left town and joined the interstate system again. “It’ll come in time.”
Yeah, probably.
* * *
They arrived in Bossier City, Louisiana and Danny stopped at the Horseshoe Riverdome. “Next stop.”
Cinnamon grinned, thinking of the image they made arriving in town. “Thanks, Danny.” She hopped out, ready to join her team and eager to see what was next on their agenda.
Danny yawned and rolled his shoulders. “Nap time for me.”
She checked the time. It amazed her the sacrifices their crew and supporting members made to help six women make their dream come true. Maybe at the end of this tour, she and the others could do something special for everyone on the crew to show their appreciation. She’d talk to the girls about it tonight.
She joined Katie Lyn and the others. Val stood in the center of a loose circle, her clipboard in hand and an all-business expression on her face.
“Okay, we have a radio interview first, then the show starts at five p.m.” She scanned the girls. “Tidy up a bit before we leave for the radio studio. Hair, makeup, and fresh clothes. We have a shuttle bus coming in half an hour.”
Mac frowned. “It’s radio. No one is going to see us.”
“Do you think radio stations are operated by robots?” Val dropped one hand to her hip. “There are real people working there and they’ll see you. They’ll take pictures to put up on their social media pages. In fact, make sure at least two of you are wearing L.O. t-shirts.”
“Always managing us like a mother hen.” Mac dodged the clipboard Val swatted at her with.
“That’s what my job is,” Val pointed out. “Your job is to make people want to come see and hear the Lipstick Outlaws. And, Mac, make sure you’re one of those wearing the band t-shirt.�
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* * *
The alarm buzzed and Silas set down his air gun. He rose and cut off the air compressor. It was almost time for Cinnamon’s band to start their radio interview in Louisiana. He couldn’t help it, but he felt like he was being drawn to a super strong magnet. The constant pull on his thoughts was real, and consuming. After he checked their social media sites, he learned not only their schedule for shows, but also radio interviews and more. This afternoon they were being hosted on WBKC’s station in Bossier City. Then they were playing at someplace called the Riverdome. He couldn’t see the show, but he could iHeart the station.
Like a hound dog trying to follow a rabbit down the hole, he couldn’t let this go. The more he learned about Cinnamon and her band, the more he wanted to learn about Cinnamon the woman. He knew the song When Karma Comes Calling for You was a huge current hit but he couldn’t find the lyrics anywhere. One site listed Cinnamon as the song’s writer. Apparently, a few of the ladies were songwriters, and they oftentimes collaborated. However, it seemed this new Karma song was all Cinnamon’s and he hoped the radio station played it during the interview.
He dusted himself off, grabbed his laptop and a ginger ale from his cooler, and whisked off the drop cloth from Cinnamon’s easy chair. With a few keystrokes he had WBKC streaming through the laptop’s speakers. As it played a twangy country song, he scrolled through plans on a favorite design site. He anxiously watched the time in the corner of the screen. His heartbeat quickened as the twangy song ended and the clock reached four-thirty.
“Welcome, everyone, to WBKC, Bossier’s Kicking Country. I’m your host, Honey M. I’m honored to have one of the hottest rising bands around live in our studio. Please welcome the Lipstick Outlaws!”
A round of greetings followed, and Silas caught himself listening for Cinnamon’s distinctive sultry voice. Honey, the host, invited them to sit, get comfortable, and help themselves to any beverage on the table. Silas was guessing they were in a conference like setting with microphones at each chair. He took a swig of his ginger ale.
Cinnamon’s Courageous Heart: Sweethearts of Country Music, Book 5 Page 5