Chapter 26
26
Changing out of my lounge set, Jack’s words play through my head. Am I afraid? I know I’m cautious, but maybe that caution has been holding me back. He’s not the first to suggest I spend less time planning and more time doing. My mom has harped on that for years, but I’ve ignored her criticism since if she’d done more planning, her life wouldn’t have been as chaotic.
Once I’m dressed, I clip back my hair and do my five-minute makeup routine: tinted moisturizer, blush, eye shadow pencil as liner, mascara, and lip tint. Once complete, I meet Jack back in the front of the bus.
“Ready?” he asks. When I nod, he leads us out of the bus and through the arena parking lot. I’m surprised when we get to an SUV and a lanky kid hops out, handing Jack the keys.
“No security?”
“They’re going to follow behind us, but we shouldn’t need them for what I have planned. ”
“If it’s going into a hotel to screw all afternoon, you’re wasting your money. We could have done that on the bus.”
“No smart ass. We’re doing actual things, but there shouldn’t be many people around.”
It takes about twenty minutes for us to get to what I’ve gleaned is the first of a few stops. “The SCRO Hall of Fame?”
“What’s more Charlotte than stock car racing? I thought it fitting that we come to the Stock Car Racing Organization Museum. Plus, it was the easiest to get into short notice since G&K reps a few drivers.”
“Fair,” I conceded. “What are we going to do, though? Do they even have exhibits?”
A mischievous grin overtakes Jack’s features. “You’ll see.”
After walking through a few exhibits about SCRO drivers past and the different race tracks, we end up in a room that resembles a garage and is filled with race cars. “Bring me here to have a mustache beauty pageant?” I tease, pointing to all the pictures on the wall.
“His stache is good,” a voice says, “but it’s no match for some of the mechanics and team members in the back.”
Peering up, I spot a man standing between two cars. He is in his late thirties with rich brown hair that has of grey salted at his temples.
“Cohen Daniels, it’s nice to meet you, man. You were my dad’s favorite driver back when you were on the circuit.” Jack greets. “This is my girlfriend, Ellie.”
“I appreciate that. I’m a fan of yours as well. I gotta say when Molly called and asked if we could open the museum for a few hours, I didn’t expect you. I figured musicians tried to stay as far away from vehicles as they could when living on a bus.”
“We normally do, but my girl and I could use a thrill and since my contract forbids skydiving, white water rafting, and basically anything fun, this was the next best option.”
Cohen nods in agreement. “Then let’s make this count. ”
“What exactly are we ‘making count’? Jack has kept me in the dark about this whole thing.”
“Racing.”
“Racing,” I echo. Can they hear the panic in my voice? I am a decent driver, but nowhere near good enough to drive a race car.
“Simulated racing,” Jack amends, running his hand up and down my arm in a soothing motion. “It will feel like a real race, but our cars will remain firmly parked in the garage.”
“In that case, get ready to eat my dust.”
“Big talk from a girl who never beat me at Mario Kart.”
“That’s because you cheat!”
“You can’t prove that.” He’s right that I can’t prove it, but I know it in my soul. All Ryders cheat at Mario Kart, it’s in their DNA. I’m fairly confident he can’t cheat at a SCRO simulator, though.
“Should we make this interesting?” he asks.
“What did you have in mind?”
“If you win, I’ll buy you as many books as you want at the indie bookstore we’re visiting later.” I perk up at the suggestion. If he said jewelry store, I might be worried about spending his money, but Jack can more than afford to drop a few hundred bucks on books. My favorite author recently came out with limited edition covers I have been dying to get my hands on. Hopefully the store will have them.
“And if you win?” This is where things could get dicey. I have no clue what he’d want as a prize.
“If I win, no making lists for a week.”
I suck in a breath. “No lists?”
“No lists. No pro-con lists, no to-do lists, hell, no groceries lists. Think you can handle it?”
“Why?” I ask, curious about his choice. I assumed he would pick something dirty, but this request is throwing me for a loop.
“Because I think you can get too hung up on accomplishments and checking things off that you miss out on the journey.”
Damn, that is sweet. How can I say no? Pretending to think it over, I dramatically tap my chin before sticking out my hand for him to shake.
“You’re on, Rock Star.” His smile is so genuine I’ll almost feel bad when kicking his ass wipes it off his handsome face.
Jack shakes my hand then pulls me in for a quick, dirty kiss.
“Alright, Cohen, tell us how this works. I have a bet to win.”
“You don’t have to be so pleased with yourself,” Jack grumbles as we leave Booked & Basic, the cutest romance bookshop.
“Don’t be a sore loser. Besides, I remember you loving the results from the last book I read.”
His eyes heat as he recalls that moment in his dressing room a few weeks ago when I took a page out of my favorite cowboy romance. Maybe if he’s a good boy, I’ll find something in one of the books to try out.
“Where to next?” I ask as we load my purchases into the trunk.
“First, we’re going to grab a snack, and then I have another surprise on my sleeve.”
“You mean up your sleeve?” I question.
“Nope.”
Before I can ask anymore, he is opening the passenger door for me and shutting me inside. It’s a quick drive to our next stop, an adorable twenty-four-hour bakery. They specialize in French pastries but have a wide selection. I choose some macaroons and an iced lavender latte while Jack gets a quiche and macchiato.
“You have to try this,” I tell him after taking a sip of my latte.
Jack opens his mouth and watches me expectantly. It takes a moment for me to register his callback to our earlier conversation.
“I am not kissing latte into your mouth,” I chide.
“That’s a shame.” He makes a show of pouting before he grabs my cup and takes a long sip. I can’t hold back the giggle when whip cream gets stuck in his mustache.
I know I said I wouldn’t feed him my latte, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some sweetness off him. Leaning forward, I kiss him firmly before licking off the excess cream.
“Good?” I ask when I sit back in my seat.
“Fucking fantastic. If we didn’t have another appointment to keep, I would steal that whipped cream, haul your ass into the back of that rental car, and show you how good.”
Dirty boy. I know I started it but sheesh. The only consolation to my dampening panties is the bulge I spot straining against his jeans. When he catches my gaze, he licks his lips and mouths, ‘later.’
“Speaking of later, I am planning to visit my grandmother when we are in Boston and was wondering if you might want to go with me?” I propose hesitantly. “She’s one of my favorite people and she is all but demanding I stop by and see her. She says she wants to ‘tell me something important before she croaks.’”
“Is she sick?”
“No, just dramatic.”
When Jack notches his finger below my chin, I realize I’m not meeting his gaze. “I’d love to meet your grandmother.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. If she’s anything like you, we’ll get on great. ”
“She’s nothing like me, but she’ll love you.”
A weight lifts off my chest with Jack’s answer. I didn’t realize how much I wanted him to meet Grammy O until I asked.
As we throw out our trash, Jack leads us away from where we parked past a row of shops. “Where are we going?”
“Our next stop is down the street. I was able to snag an appointment with an amazing tattoo artist. He’s the one who recommended the bakery.”
“You’re getting another tattoo?”
“Yes and no. Technically he will be adding ink to my body, but it will be within my existing sleeve. I get something for every tour and haven’t found the time until now.”
Walking into a shop a few doors down, I’m surprised by how clean it is. I don’t know why I expected it to be grimy, but it isn’t. Once we check in, the receptionist shows us to a private station in the corner where we meet the owner of the shop, Michael.
“Hey man,” Jack says, giving the man a bro hug. “Thank you for fitting me in.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Michael replies. “It’s an honor to have my ink on your body. I’m a huge fan.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I saw the ideas your team sent over. Let me show you what I’ve drawn up.” While Jack and Michael chat, I check out some of the designs on the wall and pictures of past work. Zeroing in on a poster of delicate ‘flash tats,’ I trace my finger or a small clover.
“See anything you like?” a woman covered in colorful tattoos asks.
“Oh, no. I mean, yes. This work is fantastic, but I’m not here to get anything. My boyfriend is over there with Michael. I was browsing, I guess.”
“If you are interested, my next appointment is running late. It wouldn’t take long to put that clover on you if you want it small, which based on your virgin skin, I imagine you do.”
Worrying my lip, I shift my gaze between the design and her. Noticing my indecision, she asks, “Any particular reason you wanna clover?”
“My family is Irish. I thought it might be a good nod to my heritage. Plus, you can never have too much good luck on your hands right?”
“Absolutely. It would be killer on your wrist, behind your ear, or on your ankle.”
Jack comes over and joins the conversation right as I am on the verge of turning her down. “Are you thinking about getting a tattoo, baby?”
“Maybe. Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“I think it’s an awesome idea!”
“Can I pull it off?”
“You can put off anything you want,” he replies with a kiss to my temple. “I’m gonna be here for a while. You might as well make use of the time to get something for yourself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Do you want me to hold your hand?” He’s joking, but I know if I asked him to, he would.
“No, you need to get started on your tattoo. I’ll come back here when it’s done.”
“Sounds good, Wildflower. Holler if you need me.”
While Amika, as I learned my tattoo artist is named, preps her station, I text the girls in our group chat.
3:42 PM
I’m doing a thing.
Macy
What is it?
Alexis
???
Instead of answering I send a picture of the set up in front of me with the tattoo gun and walls covered in past work.
Alexis
Oh my God you’re getting a tattoo!
Do you think that’s crazy?
Macy
It’s a little out of character but if you want to go for it.
What are you getting?
A small clover on the inside of my wrist.
Alexis
I love that. That’s such a good place for a dainty tattoo.
Hopefully you don’t touch the bug and get addicted. Next time we see you, you’ll be covered head to toe.
I don’t think that’s a risk.
Alexis
Send us a picture when you’re done
Lainey
OMG!!!!
absjhdbksjalncjfksdvz
Macy
I think you broke Lainey.
Before I get the chance to respond, Amika is ready with the stencil. I can hear the sound of my phone buzzing as she places the tiny clover outline on my list .
Once the stencil is placed, I’m surprised by how quick the process is. True to her word it only takes about fifteen minutes for Amika to ink the small design on my skin. It’s about the size of a dime, but I love it. Not enough that I think I’m gonna be covered as Alexis jokes, but I am excited to be able to say that I now have a tattoo.
I send the girls a picture before opening up my solo chat with Lainey.
Lainey
You’re getting a tattoo without me??
I knew I should have peer pressured you harder in New Orleans.
Let’s catch up soon.
Yes, please. Let me know when your boss gives you a second to breathe.
Guilt sits heavy in my gut at her words. Not that I got a tattoo without her, but that I am keeping such a big secret from her. If she wasn’t so swamped with her fellowship, I’d feel terrible for not talking to her as much. Thankfully, she has been too busy to notice.
I doubt that will be this century, but I will. How goes the job search?
Seeing as I am at a tattoo parlor on a random week day, it is safe to say I am still unemployed.
I don’t think it counts as unemployed if you aren’t trying to find a job. Plus you technically have one!
I am trying!
Not very hard if you are “at a tattoo parlor on a random week day.
The lack of carbs in LA is clearly making you snarkier than normal. What are they feeding you?
Not Mama C’s Sunday dinner, that’s for sure. The things I would do for a Sister Schubert roll . . .
I don’t think I want to know.
You definitely don’t.
Duty calls. Talk to you soon. Take care of my brothers for me!
Her last text catches me totally off guard. Take care of her brothers? Does she know about me and Jack? There is no way, right? Except for today, we’ve been beyond careful about being seen together. Dread pools in my stomach as I attempt to reason with myself. Lainey isn’t one to beat around the bush. If she knew, she wouldn’t pretend she didn’t.
As soon as Amika wraps my wrist, I return to the room where Michael is working on Jack. A spot on his pec is already covered in plastic. I’m about to ask about it when I’m distracted by Jack asking about my own tattoo. Since it’s wrapped, I show him the pictures I took.
Settling in, I watch as details are adding to Jack’s existing sleeve, while he points out what the other elements in it represent. For his tour, one of the things he is adding is a ball cap, representing all the different hats he’s worn on the stage. He shoots a wink my way when he notices me clocking the newly added mini bottle of whiskey.
An hour later, Michael wipes down Jack’s arm and puts wrapping over the rest of the tattoo. While I can take off my wrapping in twenty-four hours, Jack has to wait a few days if he can. Wardrobe will have fun styling around that.
“Thanks, man,” he tells Michael. “I’m excited with how this all turned out. I’ll be sure to tag you on socials when I debut the new ink.”
“It was a pleasure. Be sure to stop by next time you’re in town and I’ll hook you up again. You all set, Ellie?”
“Yep,” I answer with a smile, flashing in my wrist.
Jack and I grab takeout from a local hotspot before bringing it back to the bus to enjoy dinner with his brothers. The rest of the night is spent with the guys playing games and me reading one of my new books before Jack and I fall into bed.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a day this amazing. It should fill me with contentment, but instead my anxious brain wonders how long this can last. The tour is already halfway over and I’m worried about what the end means for Jack and I.
This time to focus on each other has been amazing, but what does our relationship look like back in Nashville? I have no idea what Jack’s plans are or even where I’ll be working. The interview my dad set up for me with that company in New York still looms over my head. As much as I want to blow it off, I’m already pushing him off on the tour issue. My people pleasing heart can only handle so much.
I feel guilty that I haven’t mentioned the interview to Jack, but I reason that there’s nothing to tell yet. No use causing him to worry about it, too, until something comes to fruition. I don’t want to jinx what we have now by talking too far in the future. And I definitely don’t want to add my father trying to take advantage of our relationship to the mix.
I know he said he’s in this. But when the reality of limited PTO, long hours, and hard days hits, is he going to stick around when he could be hopping on private jets at the drop of a hat? He is content now when everything is sunshine and roses but if my childhood taught me anything it’s that it’s hard for ‘normal life’ to compete with the glamours of the music industry.