Rhythm of the Road

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Oh!” Lala blinks rapidly. “Hey. You’re the singer, right?”

  “She’s the best country singer right now,” Heidi gushes.

  “It’s true,” Trinity insists. She taps her finger against her jaw for a second. “I’d say you’re like a twenty-something mash-up of Dolly Parton, Etta James, and Taylor Swift.”

  My heart’s ready to burst from the compliment. “I might love you forever for comparing me to three of my favorite artists.”

  Lala blinks at us. “I don’t know those first two, but you sure do have a Taylor Swift thing going on.” She drops her gaze to my feet. “Minus the gazelle legs.”

  Sacrilege! Who doesn’t know who Dolly Parton is? I smile to hide my surprise. Wait a second, did she just call me short?

  “Anyway, what do you need me to do?” Lala asks Trinity.

  Swan takes her aside, helping her with cartons of orange juice and other drinks for the tables.

  Trinity watches them for a few seconds before leaning on the counter. She glances at my shirt. “Cute.” She narrows her eyes and gives me a playful smile. “You have a thing for flamingos, Shelby?” She touches her chest. “You were wearing flamingos last night, weren’t you?”

  “Sure was.” Rooster hadn’t made fun of my idea and the girls have been nothing but nice so far. Maybe it’s safe to share my kooky idea with them. “I don’t know if you saw those god-awful shirts they sell at my merch booth last night?”

  Trinity’s lips twitch. “I noticed them.” Clearly, she doesn’t want to insult me.

  “They’re cute,” Heidi insists.

  “Well, no one consulted me about them. The whole me-sitting-in-a-patch-of-wildflowers concept is so not my style. Plus, I’m not all that fond of pink.”

  “Amen.” Trinity raises her hands.

  Heidi snickers. “I tried giving Alexa all gender-neutral stuff from the day she was born. So of course, now all she likes is pink.”

  “Well, choosing it is different than having it forced on you,” I point out.

  “True. And boy did she choose it.” Trinity laughs and gently shoves Heidi.

  Mild jealously bubbles up inside me at how close they seem to be. Singing and working didn’t leave me a lot of time for making friends growing up.

  Don’t get too attached. Who knows when I’ll be back to visit?

  “You okay, Shelby?” Trinity asks, concern darkening her amber eyes.

  “I’m peachy.” I force a sunny smile.

  “Your shirts?” Heidi prompts.

  “Oh. Right.” I flap my hands in the air, losing my nerve. “It’s a dumb idea.”

  “There are no dumb ideas,” Heidi says.

  Trinity side-eyes her. “There are plenty of dumb ideas in the world.” She winks at me. “I doubt yours is one of them. Spill.”

  “I want to have shirts made up with a flamingo in cowgirl boots,” I blurt out.

  “Oh. My. God,” Heidi squeals. “I love that!”

  Spurred by her positive reaction, I continue, “I want to call my next album ‘Flocking Fabulous’ and have the flamingo with boots on the cover.”

  “That’s freakin’ adorable,” Trinity says.

  “Greg doesn’t think the label will let me do it.” I wobble my hand in the air. “Country leans a little conservative.”

  Both of them roll their eyes, much like I’ve done many times myself.

  “I kind of had a whole bunch of shirts in mind with flamingo puns. Flocking fabulous. For flock’s sake. What the flock? Silly stuff like that.”

  “Who gives a flying flock?” Trinity picks up where I left off.

  Heidi snaps her fingers. “No flocks given!”

  “Party like a flock star,” Trinity shoots back.

  “Sassy as flock,” I add.

  The three of us burst into giggles.

  “Girls,” Swan interrupts in her soft voice. “Calm the flock down.”

  “Yes!” Heidi shouts, jumping around in a circle.

  “Now I wish I had my notebook,” I mutter, patting my pockets.

  Trinity taps the side of her head. “We got you. Don’t worry.”

  “Hey.” Heidi settles down and touches my shoulder. “Maybe if the record company won’t let you use that title, you can like, start your own label and call it Flocking Fabulous?”

  “Or have a side hustle selling your Fancy as Flock T-shirts,” Trinity adds. “A lot of musicians do stuff on the side, right?”

  “Oh yeah. They have to since they’re not making money off their music.”

  Heidi’s mouth twists down. “That sucks.”

  I shrug.

  “Well, Hope helped me set up the legal end of my photography and graphic design business, so if you ever want help with it, let her know.” Trinity slaps her hand over her mouth. “Shoot. She’s only licensed in New York. You probably want to set up in Texas. But I’m sure she could still give you some pointers or whatever.”

  After having so much fun laughing and goofing around with the girls, the reminder that I don’t belong here stings.

  Maybe the disappointment shows on my face. Trinity’s quick to reach out and touch my arm. “You think you’d move to New York?”

  Somehow, I don’t think we’re talking about a T-shirt business anymore. Feels like they want to assess my relationship with Rooster. I shrug. “Maybe. My mom’s in Texas, though.” I hate to admit to them that except for a trip to Disneyland when I was a kid, I’d never traveled outside of Texas until I was picked for Redneck Roadhouse and now this tour.

  The two girls share a sneaky look. “So, are you planning to keep things long distance with Rooster?” Heidi asks.

  “Wow, y’all going right for it, huh?” I smile to cover the annoyance that crept into my tone.

  “Just curious.”

  “I like him.” I swallow hard. “A lot. We’re going to…I think he might visit me on the road.”

  Heidi squeals and bounces on her toes again. “So romantic. I can totally see Rooster doing that.”

  “I feel bad. But he offered…”

  “Don’t feel bad.” Trinity gestures toward the rest of the clubhouse. “These guys don’t do anything they don’t want to do. And they live for a nice, long road trip.”

  Trinity’s words calm the uncertainty that had been creeping up on me since last night. I glance over at Swan who returned to cooking after her calm the flock down contribution. “What can I do to help out?”

  “We could use a batch of sweet tea, if you don’t mind,” Trinity says.

  “Sure. I can do that. Hope you’ve got lots of sugar.” I glance at the clock. “It might not be totally done in time for breakfast but the longer it’s chillin’ the better it gets. We can pour in some bourbon for dinner.”

  “Perfect.” Trinity touches my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re sticking around.”

  So am I.

  * * *

  Rooster

  “You staying for breakfast?” Wrath asks, clapping one of the bear paws he calls hands on my shoulder.

  “I think so.” I glance at my phone. “Taking Shelby to a thing. Still have to ask her what time she needs to be there.”

  “She’s probably doing yoga with the girls,” Ravage says. “Do you know the ol’ ladies stole our champagne room?” He waves his hand at Wrath and then Rock. “And they allowed it.”

  One corner of Wrath’s mouth slides up. “You can thank us later,” he says to me before shoving Ravage sideways. “Fuck off. You guys still use it at night.”

  “No, we don’t. Your wife put a lock on the door.”

  “Oops.” Wrath smirks.

  “Aren’t you guys building an entire clubhouse of sin down in Empire?” I ask Ravage.

  “Yeah, that’s why we had to build it.”

  “Build it and we will come. All over the place,” Stash adds.

  I groan at the lame joke. “How are we the same age?”

  Jigsaw joins them to discuss a trip down to Crystal Ball. Wrath nudges Sparky. “Yo
u might want to warn Willow there’s going to be a full house tonight.”

  “Me?” Sparky’s voice climbs several octaves. “Why would I warn her?”

  “I’m sorry.” Wrath scratches his chin and feigns confusion. “Was Willow sneaking out of the basement every Sunday morning supposed to be a secret?”

  Muttering and cursing to himself, Sparky heads back down to the basement. Stash follows a few seconds later.

  “You’re such a dick,” Ravage says to Wrath.

  “The biggest,” Wrath agrees.

  “Let’s go!” Z calls. “Girls are waiting. Food is ready.”

  I follow the rest of the herd down the hallway, hoping Shelby’s downstairs by now.

  The dining room is loud and boisterous. There are so many of us that the room has been arranged into two long rectangular tables side-by-side to accommodate everyone and their families.

  This is one of my favorite things about weekends upstate. And today’s even better because I have someone who’s with me. I’ve been picturing Shelby by my side for Saturday morning breakfast for months—and now she’s finally here.

  There she is. By the kitchen door, talking to Trinity. Yeah, I definitely like Shelby getting cozy with Wrath’s wife. Trinity’s opinion means something to the guys. Not that Wrath would be one of the officers to vote Shelby in—should I ever want to patch her. I just like how she easily fits in with my club’s ol’ ladies.

  Trinity’s gaze lands on all of us crowding into the dining room. She nudges Shelby. A few seconds later, they approach us.

  “How’s it going?” I ask Shelby.

  “Good. I helped Trinity make a big ol’ batch of sweet tea.”

  Wrath sort of scowls at Trinity. “I can’t drink that.”

  “It’s not for you.” She pokes his side. “Beast.”

  He snarls and picks her up. Trinity’s laughter rings out over the rest of the noise as he carries her to the table. Shelby watches them with an amused smile.

  I don’t have a chance to ask her anything else. Heidi’s daughter runs over and smacks into my legs. “Ooster!”

  “Hey, pumpkin.” I glance down at her. “You planning to play football?”

  “Sorry,” Heidi says. “Shelby, this is my daughter, Alexa. Alexa, can you say hi to Shelby?”

  While she was nice enough to the kids at the show last night, I have no idea how Shelby feels about them in her free time. She squats down so she’s almost eye level with Alexa. “Well, aren’t you cuter than a sack full of puppies?”

  Alexa squints at her, then up at her mom. Guess she doesn’t find Shelby’s Texas-isms as fucking adorable as I do.

  Shelby winks at Heidi. “I am living for these pink camo overalls.”

  “I told you.” Heidi shakes her head and the two of them share a laugh. “Come on. Let’s go clean up before breakfast.” Heidi grabs Alexa before she scurries away.

  Something slams into my other leg. I glance down, already knowing who it is. “You two trying to cripple me today?”

  Z’s son flashes a toothless grin before running over to see Hope. “That one’s Z’s,” I explain to Shelby. “Chance.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be so…family-friendly at a motorcycle club.” Shelby stares at the scene in front of us. The couples and a good portion of upstate’s members situate themselves around the first table while the rest of the guys grab a seat at the next one.

  I wrap my arm around Shelby’s shoulders and lead her around to the other side. Murphy points at the three chairs next to him. “Heidi’s sitting there if you want to sit next to her, Shelby.”

  I lift my chin, a quick thanks for trying to help Shelby feel included and pull out her chair. Jigsaw pulls a chair over to the corner right next to me.

  “You plannin’ to eat off my damn plate?” I ask.

  “Only if you ask nicely.”

  Swan and Lala bring out platters of food for both tables, with Birch and Stitch helping them carry the heavier loads.

  “What time do you need to be down at Empire Med?” I ask Shelby.

  “One.”

  “Okay. We’ve got time.”

  Heidi’s got tons of questions for Shelby and they end up talking through most of breakfast. I rest my hand on her knee, absently running my fingers over her soft skin. Never thought I’d enjoy having someone with me at the club this much.

  It doesn’t take long for a bunch of bikers to demolish a breakfast.

  Shelby pushes her chair away from the table. “I’m stuffed.”

  Little Alexa toddles over and hands Shelby a broken ponytail holder. “Fix it.”

  Murphy stretches his arm and taps her shoulder.

  “Please,” she adds.

  Poor Shelby does a quick scan of the room for Heidi. She even throws a pleading look Murphy’s way, but he’s busy talking to Charlotte now.

  “Okay, sure. Come here.” She sets Alexa in her lap and reaches into her back pocket. “Aha. I’ve always got an elastic on me. Okay, what’re we working with here? Your momma do these pretty braids?”

  “No, Daddy.”

  Jigsaw leans over the table. “Murphy, your kid’s ratting you out.”

  “What?” Murphy turns.

  “You braid hair?” Jigsaw draws out the question, like he’s hoping to embarrass Murphy.

  Dex punches Jigsaw’s arm. “Real men actually know how to take care of their children.”

  “Teller,” Jigsaw shouts. “You braid hair too?”

  “I’m not coordinated enough.” He wiggles his fingers in our direction, ending with a middle finger aimed at Jiggy.

  Alexa giggles and beams at Shelby.

  While I think Alexa, Chance, and Grace are adorable, and I don’t mind spending time with them in small doses, I’ve never really thought about what it might be like to have kids of my own. Never met a woman I’d want to share that responsibility with.

  But Shelby, sitting right next to me, being all cute and snuggly with a kid she barely knows and working so hard to fix her little braids just right? Well, fuck if that doesn’t sock me right in the gut.

  “Aw, look at Rooster giving Shelby the baby-making eyes,” Ravage coos. “Ain’t that sweet?”

  I shoot a glare at him. “What?”

  “Yeah, what was that?” Shelby finishes Alexa’s hair and sets her down, laughing as the tyke runs over to hug Chance. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Careful, Shelby, or you’ll end up the oldest mom in your birthing class,” Hope calls down.

  “That’s fine by me.” Shelby lifts her hands in the air like she’s praising the baby gods. “Don’t want any until I’m at least thirty-five.”

  The guys have a good laugh at that. For some idiotic reason, Jiggy elbows me in the side. When everyone goes back to their conversations, I lean down toward Shelby. “You don’t want kids?”

  Her eyes snap to mine. “You do?”

  “Not now. Not anytime soon, even. Just…curious.”

  She blows out a breath. “Momma’s been drilling it into my head not to get pregnant since I was like fourteen. She had me at seventeen. Had to marry my dad and give up singing.”

  “Your mom was a singer too?”

  “Oh, heck yeah. I think that’s how they met.”

  Huh. That was a lot of information. I run my hand over her leg.

  “Sorry, was that more family history than you wanted?”

  Sure, that was a lot to take in. But learning something new about this woman every second I’m with her is high on my list of priorities. “Not at all. I want to discover every last detail about you, Shelby.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rooster

  After breakfast, Shelby jogs upstairs to grab her guitar while I walk outside to inspect Murphy’s truck.

  “You sure you don’t mind me borrowing it?” I ask.

  “It’s just sitting here. I’ll run it down to Lowe’s every now and then but you might as well use it this weekend if you need it.”

 
“Appreciate it, brother.”

  “No problem.”

  “You cool meeting up at Eraser’s place Monday?”

  “Yeah, just text me when you’re on your way back.”

  Shelby’s squeezing through the front door with her guitar case and I go over to help her. “Ready?”

  “Sure am.”

  We say goodbye to Murphy and a few of the other brothers before hopping in the truck and heading out.

  “Wow, it’s so much prettier during the day,” she says, staring out the window. “And now I know what you meant about Texas having hills not mountains.”

  “Glad I could show you around a little.”

  “That’s one of my favorite things about being on tour. Seeing so many new places.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I don’t have enough time to stop and appreciate any of them, but I’ve been trying to make notes of where I want to go back and visit one day.”

  “What cities made the list?”

  “Honestly?” She laughs. “Everywhere.”

  “You might be singing a different tune come winter.”

  “No doubt.” She stares out the window again. “I’d love to see snow, though. Like real snow. Not that slush-mush we sometimes get.”

  “We get plenty of snow up here.”

  She glances over. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to—”

  “Trying to what?”

  “I can’t leave my momma alone around the holidays,” she answers quickly.

  Okay, I kinda understand. Although, Shelby’s twenty-two. It’s not unreasonable that she’d spend the holidays somewhere else. I’d say Lynn’s invited too, but something about Shelby’s mood seems to have shifted.

  Maybe she’s nervous about the visit we’re about to make?

  Ever since I listened to her sing “Empty Room” last night, I haven’t been sure how to bring up the topic of Shelby’s sister. I’ll leave it to her to decide when she’s comfortable talking about it. Her participation with Dream Makers could be related. Maybe that’s a safer topic of conversation.

  “So, you do a lot of these visits?”

  She turns to look at me. “I wouldn’t say a lot.”

  Not much of an answer. We’re a few more miles down the road before I attempt another approach. “Are you nervous?”