by Caisey Quinn
Dallas thanks the audience and carries his guitar offstage. Gavin is behind me when we exit stage left, drumsticks tapping out my anxiety on one another. I want to grab them and throw them. I’m placing Oz in his case when Mandy meets us backstage.
“That was a decent show, guys,” she says, giving my brother a pointed look. “It could’ve been better. I think I saw better than that in Austin, which is unfortunate since this is the show that actually matters.”
“All of our shows matter,” Gavin says evenly.
“Right, of course.” Mandy stops in front of Dallas. “Thankfully each band gets to play an encore. So hopefully that will go a little smoother. I’d like to chat briefly about song choice for that one. But first, Dixie, can we talk?” She steps around my brother, gently placing a hand on his forearm. “Private girl chat, you understand,” she says to Dallas and Gavin, dismissing them. I don’t bother giving either one of them pathetic please-don’t-leave-me eyes because there’s no point. Gavin catches my gaze and I nod that I can handle her.
Once they’re gone, I fold my arms over my chest and level her with an even stare. “What can I do for you, Ms. Lantram?”
“I don’t think I need to point out that you were a little off out there.” She smirks at me, making it clear that this goes without saying. “What I do want to say is that Dallas is an amazing talent, and it’s about time you stepped aside and let him shine, don’t you think?” She admires her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror I didn’t even realize was next to me, as if I’m no longer standing there.
“Or what?” I already know the answer, but for some sick reason I need to hear it out loud. From someone else.
“You know, it’s funny. I asked your brother about you and Gavin when I first reached out to him in Austin.”
I do my best to keep my expression placid, but I hate the sound of Gavin’s name in her mouth. She runs her perfectly manicured fingers over Oz’s case and I have the sudden urge to smack her hand the way Nana used to do mine when I reached for a cookie on the stovetop before they’d cooled.
“Want to know what he said?” She turns her full attention to me, and I shrug.
“Pretty sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”
Her plump red lips curve. “He said, and I quote, ‘We’re like family, the three of us. Gavin is like a brother to me and Dixie both. Always has been.’”
I arch a brow because in some ways, this is true. Gavin looks out for me, does his best to keep me safe, even from myself. “Your point?”
“My point is I’m pretty sure there’s nothing incestuous happening between you and Dallas.”
My face contorts in disgust. “Seriously?”
“But I see it, the way you and he look at each other. The drummer, I mean.”
“I know what you mean. And frankly, it’s none of your business.”
“Isn’t it?” Mandy places a finger over her mouth, mulling over whatever crazy game she’s playing with me. Contemplating her next move, I suppose. “You know, if I saw a potential situation that could be hazardous to the well-being of my clients, part of my job is to bring it to their attention so that we can prevent it from affecting their performance or the future of their career.”
Every word she says, every carefully veiled threat and insinuation, begins to deflate the fight right out of me.
“So what? You’re saying that you noticed my gaze tends to linger on Gavin from time to time so you think it’s vital you bring this up to my brother? Wouldn’t that just be an added distraction at a crucial point in his career? And aren’t Gavin and I technically your clients, too?”
“That can be amended easily enough. I’m starting to think that if band members are sneaking around behind his back, perhaps your brother would fare a bit better as a solo act.”
My heart falters in my chest. “So you want me to quit my own band?”
“I would never suggest that. I would, however, suggest that you sit the encore out tonight. You seem a bit . . . distracted this evening. This venue is a bit more significant than the honky-tonks and back-alley bars you’re likely used to.”
My hands tremble at my sides. But not for the reason a bystander might expect if they’d witnessed our little dispute. The idea of not playing the encore number with my band causes me physical pain. The knowledge that Mandy has caught on to whatever it is that’s happening between Gavin and me is unsettling. The possibility of her telling my brother and causing him and Gavin to get in a fight at the worst possible time is downright terrifying.
“You and Dallas are all I have. Do you get that?”
The band is all Gavin has. He needs Leaving Amarillo to be successful for his own reasons, just as Dallas and I do. But Gavin needs it to keep the darkness at bay, to keep him from sinking and submitting to it again. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever truly know what happened when I was gone. What I do know is that I won’t be the one to hold the band back, and I won’t be what causes my brother and Gavin to have an altercation before what might be the biggest night of our lives.
“Okay,” I say more to myself than to her.
“Okay?” This time her surprise is genuine.
It’s just one song, I tell myself. We’ll deal with everything else after the showcase.
When I don’t respond, Mandy nods and turns on her heel to leave. “Dixie?” she calls over her shoulder before leaving me alone to wallow in my decision.
“Yeah?”
The look she gives me is almost apologetic, or would be if it weren’t marred by her self-satisfied arrogance. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing.”
It feels like someone has my skull in a vise. The dull throbbing between my eyes is now unrelenting pressure at my temples.
“For who?” I ask softly after she’s already walked away.
Chapter 26
I’M SEARCHING FOR DALLAS AND GAVIN, HOPING TO DISCUSS WITH them my sitting out the encore before Mandy drops the bomb about it, when I hear my brother’s voice near a secluded corner behind the bar. The anger sharpening it surprises me.
“I have to find her. I’ll talk to her and get this handled. This isn’t a fucking game of musical chairs where one of us just can sit out every now and then.”
“She isn’t feeling well. She looked a little panicked up onstage, Dallas. As your manager, I have to advise you not to get into a disagreement with a band member in front of a room full of people who could make your career. If she wants to sit out the encore, you should respect that,” Mandy purrs.
Bile rises in my throat and I’m just about to barge in on their moment and announce that I won’t be sitting the encore out after all when Mandy continues.
“Look, I promised to be honest with you and I’m sorry if the truth hurts. But this might be for the best.” Her voice has grown distant, as if she couldn’t care less what he decides at this point. “You have the talent and the marketability to make it, to really make it. But how many major acts have you seen opening with a fiddle solo by Daisy Duke?” She answers before he can. “None. That’s how many. None, Dallas.” Her voice softens a bit but her words remain sharp, jagged-edged daggers stabbing me in my most sensitive places. “Your sister seems lovely and I can tell that you mean a great deal to each other. But she’s holding you back. Plain and simple.”
I gasp out loud, and then take an immediate step back in case they heard me.
“She’s holding you back. Plain and simple.”
I’ve been holding Dallas back. I’m the reason we’ve been passed on time and time again by managers and recording labels.
There it is—the cold, hard truth spoken out loud by an industry professional. Maybe I don’t like her very much, but Dallas respects her and her opinion. It’s not like she’s saying these things to hurt me—she has no idea that I’m listening.
The bright neon dream I’ve held on to for so long, an image of Leaving Amarillo playing together, making a life of touring and playi
ng the kind of music that was so prominent it was a physical presence in the home we grew up in, fades until it has evaporated completely.
The seeds of doubt planted long ago by curious bystanders paying amused attention to my opening act begin to grow and bloom in my stomach, sending a nauseating excess of fluid up from my throat. My head swims and I know, I know in that moment that she’s right. And that I am going to vomit.
I’ve made it to the back of the building and placed my hands on my knees before I yak all over the place. Thankfully I haven’t eaten so it’s only dry heaves and not anything too substantial.
“Bluebird?”
Oh God. Of course. Of course he’d be the one to find me. A thousand tingling pinpricks dance across my skin. A slick sheen of sweat spreads across my forehead and down my neck as I stand.
“H-hey.” I raise my head and see him crushing a cigarette with the heel of his boot. His tie and button-down shirt are undone. Beneath them he’s wearing his “drummers hit it harder” T-shirt and I don’t know whether to comment on the smoking or the shirt first.
“I thought you quit?”
“Correction. I quit smoking around you.”
“Well, that’s hardly helpful since you’ve been mostly avoiding me since we got here.” Except for the macho man scene he made with Brian, that is. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while working to regain my equilibrium. “I’ve never known you to be the type to duck and hide.”
He gestures to where I’m standing. “And I’ve never known you to get nervous before a show. What’s wrong?”
“Do you think I’m holding you back, Gav? You and Dallas, I mean.” I can tell by his mildly offended expression that he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“What are you—”
“The band, Gav. Do you think the band would have made it by now if I wasn’t a part of it?”
His forehead creases and his mouth angles downward. “Where the hell is this coming from? Somebody say something to you?”
I can’t help but notice that he didn’t answer my question. I shake my head, unable to voice the lie out loud. Traitorous tears gather in my eyes and give me away.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t do that, Bluebird. Whatever it is that’s psyching you out, let it go.”
Suddenly everything I’ve held in all this time channels itself into a powerful cyclone of deep-seated frustrations aimed right at Gavin Garrison. Grief and guilt and loss intertwine, gaining momentum by the second. Narrowing my eyes, I shake my head.
“I wish it was that simple for me. It’s not like I really have any other choice, though. Not really.”
His dark brows thread inward as he takes two steps and closes the distance between us. “We still talking about the band, or am I missing something?”
“Do not play dumb with me, Gavin Garrison. We’re past that and you know it.” I lean back against the brick building and watch him process what I’ve said through my haze of hurt and anger.
“This is why I didn’t want to do what we did.” He pauses to point an accusatory finger at me. “This right here. You’re pissed, and for reasons I’m not entirely sure of. Which only seems to be pissing you off more.”
The lump of tears to come in my throat swells, constricting my airway. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob narrowly escapes my throat. Either that came from me or a wounded animal is nearby.
I didn’t want to do what we did repeats a thousand times in my mind.
It hurts, it hurts so bad it takes all my strength to remain upright. A shard of glass carving out my heart would feel better. Would be a welcome relief. My breath comes in gasps.
“Sorry I forced you to do something you didn’t want to do,” I spit out at him. My hands shoot forward, my palms striking him against his broad chest. “I fucking hate that shirt.”
He grabs my wrists with one hand and wrenches them into the tight space between our bodies while bracing his other one beside my head. I’m a willing hostage between brick and Gavin’s solid body.
“You didn’t force me to do shit.” His breath tickles the side of my face. “And don’t hate on the shirt. Especially now that you know it’s telling the truth.”
My pulse races at the reminder, not that I could’ve possibly forgotten. The memory of last night has played on repeat behind my eyes nearly every second since.
Shoving myself against him in a weak attempt at pushing him away, I try my best not to inhale his intoxicating scent. Masculine soap, a faint hint of tobacco, and undertones from the cologne I bought him for his birthday.
“You’re an asshole.”
“True, but completely beside the point at the moment. How about you tell me what’s really got you so upset and we go from there?”
My chest rises and falls between us, barely grazing his as I pull in much-needed breaths.
“I-I don’t even know how to explain it exactly.”
“Try.” The force of the command in his voice is only half as harsh as the punishing glare in his gaze.
“Okay.” I recall what Mandy said about band members not needing to fight in front of the influential audience members inside. I don’t want to lie to him, but the last thing I need is Gavin defending my worth to Dallas or arguing publicly with Mandy. Settling on a lie of omission, I pause to lick my lips and lift my chin. “I overheard someone saying the band would be better off if I wasn’t a part of it. Not just anyone, either. Someone who would know—someone who matters.”
“Dixie. Listen to me.” He leans closer and I feel the anger from where I stand. “Whoever said that is a fucking moron. You are what makes this band. You are why people stop drinking or texting or whatever the hell it is they’re doing and pay attention. Don’t ever let me hear you say that we would be better off without you again. Understood?”
I hear myself let out a breathless sound and then a whimpered, “Okay,” while still locked in his stare.
“Do not make those noises. Unless you want our second time to be in this alley.”
We’re so close that his lips brush mine as he speaks and I can’t help but smile against them. “Technically it would be our fourth time. Our second time was in the shower. The third time was in that chair by the window. Try and keep up.”
His hands fall to my backside and his fingers press into my flesh. I’m not sure if I rock my hips forward or he does, but the part of me that’s throbbing with need brushes against his obvious arousal.
“You’re going to get us into trouble, Dixie Leigh.”
I shiver when his head drops onto my shoulder and his teeth graze my neck. “I think maybe I like trouble,” I whisper. “A lot.”
It feels like home in his arms, safe and warm, protected from the judging eyes of an unfamiliar audience and Mandy’s painfully honest observations. The deep cadence from Gavin’s rumble of low laughter tickles me behind the ear and I squirm. Turning my head when a metal door clangs shut I see that we’re no longer alone.
Straightening myself upright immediately, I watch Gavin take a necessary but excruciating step backward. Dallas’s horrified anger is obvious enough to be a tangible thing even from five feet away. His fists are clenched at his sides when he stalks over to us. The sickening fear that those fists might be about to slam into his best friend’s face sends my body into panic mode.
“What in the ever-loving fuck is going on out here?”
I barely hear him over the pounding of my heart. An inferno of fiery rage flares in his face and heats my skin with the shame of being caught like this.
“Nothing,” I answer quickly, ignoring Gavin’s entreating gaze. “I wasn’t feeling well. I got sick and was upset about . . . about what I heard Mandy tell you. Gavin was comforting me.”
Dallas’s rage is somewhat diluted by guilt. His eyes soften, cooling a few degrees when they land on me. “Dix, she didn’t mean that. I talked to her, explained. She—”
“She said I was holding you back, Dallas. Maybe she’s right.” I shrug, despite th
e soul-stinging pain of knowing she might be.
“What happened to her getting us, D? I thought she liked our sound. Dixie is damn sure a part of that sound.” Gavin’s stance has changed and now he has clenched fists, too.
I realize that I just inadvertently revealed that Mandy was the one who’d upset me a second too late.
“It’s more complicated than that. Dixie only heard part of the conversation.” Dallas shoots a fleeting look of sympathy at me before turning a hardened glare on Gavin. “Speaking of complicated, in the future, if my little sister is upset, you tell her to come talk to me. And from now on, you comfort her from arm’s fucking length.”
“I don’t take orders—not even from you, Dallas. And right now, I’m not real happy about the way you let your new friend run her mouth about your little sister. And for the record, she’s not anybody’s little anything and she’s standing right here so how about not talking about her like she isn’t.”
My brother squares his shoulders and steps right into Gavin’s personal space without apology. “You got something to say to me, Garrison? Because I thought we’d already talked about this. I thought I was pretty clear the first time, but maybe you need clarification.”
Gavin gives my brother a smirk that morphs seamlessly into a sneer. “Don’t bow up on me, D. You know how I feel about that shit. Or maybe you’re the one who needs a reminder.”
Oh God. I’m not sure what they’re referring to specifically—half of what they’ve said makes absolutely no sense to me—but my female intuition is on high alert. This is about to go so wrong so fast. I’m practically being forced backward by the surge of testosterone flowing violently between them. I can’t be sure if I’m holding Dallas or the band back musically, but causing fights between him and Gavin will definitely send all three of us crashing down in blazing flames of failure.
“Stop. Just stop.” I move to stand between them. “It was nothing. I got my feelings hurt and I really don’t feel well. I’m going to sit the encore out, D. You do your thing and if anyone is interested in us, we’ll discuss whether or not I still need to be a part of this band. Maybe I’ll be your opener when you’re on your worldwide tour.” I nudge my brother in hopes of softening him before he and Gavin come to blows.