Chapter 3
In the morning Anne gets us an Uber over to Ascend Amphitheater in Nashville where both the Indie Fest job interviews are being held and the tour will officially kick off. It’s early enough that no one’s really out, but I still scan. Looking, surveying, watching. Always watching…
Anne catches me. “I swear you were a cop in a past life.”
“Maybe I’ve missed my calling.”
We head through the open gate and over to the ticket booth. I tap on the window where an older woman sits reading a book.
“Excuse me,” I say. “Where are the roadie interviews being held for Indie Fest?”
She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “Go down to the soundboard and ask for Ford.”
“Thank you.”
We walk straight across the lawn and under the awning to where the soundboard sits. We find a man, probably mid-thirties, with blond hair and a trim goatee.
Anne gives me a nudge, and I quickly step forward. “Hi. Are you Ford?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“We’re here to inquire about the roadie jobs for Indie Fest,” I say.
He gives us both a quick survey, first to Anne’s black faux-hawk, numerous piercings, and the multitude of tattoos, and then over to me and my fake hair and non-pierced, non-tatted skin.
“Long hours,” he says. “Carrying equipment, laying cable, soldering wires, and whatever else I throw at you. Ever been roadies?”
“Yes,” Anne confirms and then gives him the rundown of all her work.
“You know indie rock?”
“Of course,” I say.
“This is a touring festival. You’ll be traveling constantly. We pay shit per hour. Only fifteen bucks, but your food and lodging are included.” He points his finger between us. “You two would bunk together, of course.”
“It all sounds fine,” I immediately answer. It’s exactly what I need.
Ford nods. “All right. But here are the rules. You come to work when I tell you to come to work, and you leave when I tell you to leave. If you’re so hungover you can’t work, you’re fired.
If you need a sick day, that’s fine, but you’d better really be sick.
” He levels both of us with a serious look. “Got it?”
We return his look. “Got it.”
“You mess up, you’re out of here. It’s really pretty easy. I don’t have time to screw around with losers.”
Anne gives an affirmative nod. “You’ll find we are anything but losers.”
“All right. Be here in two days first thing.” With that, he turns away and goes back to plugging cables into the soundboard.
Anne sneaks me a smirk as we turn to leave. “That was easy,” she whispers.
Back at the entrance, she swerves off into the bathroom, pulling her phone out as she does. “I’ll get us an Uber back to the motel. Wait for me in the parking lot.”
Nodding, I head straight out, surveying the area, and take a seat on the bench. As I do, a black sports car rolls in and breaks to a stop. A dark window lowers on the driver’s side, and West Wolf, wearing that same fedora, grins at me from behind a pair of aviators. “Well, hello, Eve.”
“Oh, um, hi.”
He kills the engine and gets out. Dressed in faded jeans and a black tee, he slips off the glasses. Giving them a twirl, he leans back against his car and crosses one ankle over the other. “Fancy meeting you here.”
My gaze tracks the length of a tatted vine that trails his arm. “Yeah, fancy that.”
He doesn’t say anything else so neither do I as my eyes leave his tattoo to run across his pecs and down the other arm to where he wears a silver watch.
His faded jeans draw my attention next and the way they’re a little lighter in certain areas.
Just as I’m realizing what certain area I’m staring at he chuckles.
My face heats. My God, what am I doing?
“That blush in your cheeks really brings out the blue in your eyes. Great blue eyes, as a matter of fact.”
Warmth surges through me in all sorts of awkward and puzzling ways. “Thanks,” I mumble, completely embarrassed.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his gaze touching briefly on the Wile E. Coyote screen printed on my long sleeve tee.
“Interviewing for a job.” I hope Anne makes a miraculous appearance.
“What kind of job?”
“Roadie for Indie Fest.”
“Did you get it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I make eye contact with him again. He laughs. At what, I’m not sure. But I like the deep and musical sound of it. I cock my head, looking at his face. He looks about Anne’s age—nineteen, maybe twenty. Older than me.
“You coming or going?” he asks.
“Going. Why?”
He raps his knuckles against the side of his sports car. “Well, climb on in. Where are you headed?”
Anne picks that second to appear and I’m so relieved to see her that I lunge to my feet. “Ready?”
“Well, duck on a stick. Look at this. It’s West Wolf.” She sticks out a hand that he shakes. “Nice to meet you. I love your music.”
Our Uber pulls in then.
West gives me another look. “I’m glad we got to see each other again.”
“Me…too.”
“Well, isn’t that something then?” He gives me a little goodbye wave as I precede Anne into the Uber.
She closes the door behind us and as the driver pulls away, she says, “Did you see the flyer with the list of all the bands that’ll be playing Indie Fest?”
“No.”
She starts listing them off, finishing up with, “And guess who’s headlining?”
I swallow a sudden nervous lump. “West Wolf and Bus Stop?”
Anne hoots. “Girl, you’re on the road with that hot piece of ass for the next year.”