Chapter 3
Tate
It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking, but before she responds a loud female voice calls out from the back.
“Summer? You here?”
“Out front, Dolly!” she yells before turning to me. “That’s my boss.”
“God damn summer storms.” A tall woman with a bleach blonde cascade of wiry curls around her head comes bustling up to the counter.
“Electricity’s been out over an hour,” Summer tells her. Then she looks at me. “Tate, this is the owner of the diner, Dolly Harris. Dolly, this is Tate. His band’s tour bus broke down and they’ve been riding out the storm here.”
Dolly smiles. “Nice to meet you, Tate.” She looks down at where I’m in the middle of rolling silverware. “I see Summer put you to work.”
I wink. “It was all me. Any excuse to talk to a pretty girl.”
Dolly throws back her head and laughs. “I like a man who goes after what he wants.”
“I’m right here!” Summer interjects. “Why are you talking about me like I’m not?”
“I just want to make sure I don’t get you in trouble with your boss,” I say playfully.
Dolly snorts. “It’ll take a lot more than flirting with a cute guy to get Summer in trouble.”
“You think I’m cute?” I tease.
Dolly grins. “And I’d bet my last dollar that is not the first time you’ve heard that.”
A bell jingles, indicating that someone has come in. Dolly looks up. “We’re closed, boys,” she says grimly.
After some grumbling, they shuffle back out into the rain.
“Any idea when this is supposed to stop?” Summer asks.
“The Weather Channel says it’ll slow down around seven,” Dolly replies.
“Should we tell Sylvie and Tina not to come in since we don’t have power?” Summer asks.
“I’ll do that now,” Dolly says, heading into the back.
“This was probably a long night for you,” I say once we’re alone again.
“It was,” Summer agrees. “I’ve been here since three in the afternoon. I was only supposed to work the dinner shift.”
“Oh, you must be exhausted.”
“A little,” she smiles. “I’m kind of a night owl anyway and Sundays and Mondays are typically my days off.”
“What do you usually do on your days off?”
“I try to spend a little time with Waylon, my mom’s cat,” she says wryly.
“Waylon, as in Jennings?” I ask with a grin.
“What can I say,” she says, smiling. “We’re big fans. Her last cat was Crystal Gayle.”
I grimace. “I don’t think I could name a song by Crystal Gayle. But I would lose my musician card if I didn’t know the words to ‘Luckenbach, Texas.’”
She puts a hand over her heart dramatically. “If you can name a song by Kris Kristofferson, I might have to marry you.”
“‘Lovin Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)’.” I sing the title of the well-known song.
Summer immediately starts to fan herself. “Look at you, tryin’ to get me all hot and bothered.”
“All I have to do is sing a little Kris Kristofferson to get you hot and bothered?”
“Well, it might take a little more than that,” she says in a throaty whisper.
Good God, now I’m the one getting hot and bothered.
“What happens if I throw in a little bit of Highwaymen?” I ask, referring to the country supergroup that included Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, and Johnny Cash.
She bats her eyelashes furiously. “Now, don’t make me take you out back.”
“I’m thinking if we go out there now we would get wet, but not in a fun way…”
“What, you’re not a fan of dancing in the rain?”
“Not the kind of dancing we were just talking about.”
My eyes bore into hers and she swallows, playfulness suddenly gone.
“Too bad it’s raining,” she whispers.
I reach out and push a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “It’s supposed to stop soon,” is all I say.
“Uh huh.” Her eyes don’t leave mine.
“Keep looking at me like that, pretty girl, and I don’t know if I can resist kissing you.”
A tiny smile plays on her lips. “Don’t you dare while I’m working,” she says.
“When do you get off?” I ask pointedly.
“I guess technically I’m already off, but I’m sure Dolly is going to pay me until I leave, so I don’t want to do anything inappropriate.”
“Do you like doing inappropriate things when you’re not working?”
There isn’t a lot of light, but I see her eyes glitter. “I love being inappropriate.”
If she’s saying what I think she’s saying, this morning is going to turn out a lot better than I thought it would. “Do you live far from here?” I ask.
“About twenty minutes.”
“You have plans for your day off? Other than hanging out with Waylon?”
“Grocery shopping and baking.”
“Baking…” I pause. “As in baking the pies you talked about?”
“What’s your favorite pie?”
“Pecan,” I answer automatically.
“How does bourbon pecan sound?”
“Like an invitation.”
“Let’s see how far you get with the silverware first. Then we’ll talk.”
“Deal.” I grab another napkin.
“So, what’s your music like?” she asks.
“Hard, edgy rock,” I reply.
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Hang on.” I pull out my phone and go to YouTube. I search for one of our heavier songs because I don’t want to mislead her by playing a ballad, then I put my phone on the counter and hit play.
The sound of the opening guitar lick to ‘Living on the Edge’ fills the room and I see Johnny look up curiously.
“She’s never heard of us,” I call out. “I thought I’d give her a taste.”
Angus and Johnny come join us at the counter. Angus starts drumming with his hands in time to the beat, and Johnny starts harmonizing with himself.
Living on the edge
Breaking all the rules
Gonna find some answers
I never went to school.
Baby, you’re my heartbeat
You’re everything I need
But when you turn your back
You’re gonna make me bleed.
Come on, pretty girl, there’s a star in the sky
You know you want me, I see it in your eyes
There’s nothing I won’t do, we’ll take right to the ledge
Take my hand, pretty lady, we’re living on the edge
A moment later, Dolly and Brent come out from the back, listening intently. Then I notice that Brent knows the lyrics.
“You a fan?” I ask lightly.
“Hell yeah!” He nods. “I was bummed I had to work last night and couldn’t get down to Albany to see you play.”
“Shhhhh!” Dolly and Summer hush him in unison. “We’re trying to listen to the song!”
“Living on the Edge” comes to an end and Dolly has a huge grin on her face. “Well, be still my heart. I have bona fide rock stars in my little diner.”
“Would I be a complete dork if I asked to take a picture with you guys?” Brent asks.
“I don’t think there’s enough light in here,” Angus says regretfully. “But we can try.”
Brent comes around the counter and hands Summer the phone. “Will you take the picture?” he asks.
“Wait, I wanna be in it!” Dolly rushes in as we crowd around Brent.
“I think the flash’ll work,” Brent says to Summer.
“I’m on it,” she says patiently. She pushes a few buttons on the phone and holds it up. She takes a few vertical pictures and then turns the phone to take some horizontally.
“They’re not great,” she says when she’s done. “But they’re not terrible.”
Brent and Dolly start asking us a bunch of questions, but I go back behind the counter next to Summer. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to shirk my duties.”
“I didn’t realize you were… famous,” she says softly.
“I don’t know about famous,” I say carefully. “Our first album is doing well, but we can’t break the top twenty on Billboard with any singles.”
“The fact that you’re even on the Billboard charts is impressive,” she says. “And I can’t believe you guys spent the night bussing tables and rolling silverware with me.”
“I’m just a regular guy,” I respond. “Who happens to play a little guitar.”
“Based on that video I just watched, you play more than just a little guitar.”
“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” I admit. “But rock and roll isn’t an easy path.”
“I don’t imagine anything in show business is easy.”
“And I don’t imagine waiting tables at a busy truck stop is either.”
She smiles. “Not usually, no.”
I stare down into her pretty face and really hate that I can’t kiss her. “You know how many times I would’ve kissed you tonight if you weren’t working?”
“How many?”
“Seven,” I reply immediately, even though it’s just the first number that came to mind.
“Well, if you play your cards right you might get a chance. Did you say you had plans for your day off?”
“I did not.” I cock my head. “Is there an invitation in there?”
“Well, if you wanted to make plans with me, there’s half of a chocolate peanut butter pie in my fridge, and I have a really comfortable bed.”
Yup, this is going where I think it is.
Fuck, yeah.
If a new bus shows up in the next couple of hours, I’ll find my own way to Montreal.
“Tate.” Angus’s deep voice breaks the spell, and I turn in annoyance.
“What’s up?”
“Just heard from Sasha,” he says. Sasha Petrov is our manager. “She’s sending a car to pick us up in about an hour and she got us reservations at the Glens Falls Marriott.”
“Go ahead and tell her to cancel my room. I’ve got other plans.”