Gypsy Hearts (5 page)

ve got to be out of my mind," Josie said, stuffing
an extra sweatshirt into her duffle bag. She owned a
nice black leather set of luggage her mother had given
her when she graduated high school. She'd only used it
once. It was too nice to be thrown around in the bottom
of a dusty bus cargo hatch, being crushed by equipment, or on the bus, getting food and drink spilled on it.

And she had to pack light. Space was limited when
sharing quarters and before too long, she knew the nice
little things she thought she needed on the road would
only be in the way. One big bag was all she was taking.
If she couldn't fit her needs in there, it wasn't coming
on the road with her. She'd probably get enough ribbing from the band for the things she couldn't part
with.

And then she'd give it right back. No matter how
many trucks they had to haul their equipment, the bus would have a few instruments the musicians wouldn't
leave in the equipment truck. A guitar was like a security blanket to a musician.

Yes, she was out of her mind, she decided as she
pulled the hooded sweatshirt over her head.

"Don't look at me that way," she said, ignoring the
penetrating gaze of her faithful feline friend. Judgment
was harsh, swift, and always hurt when she saw the truth
staring back at her. "This is an important career move.
I'm not a naive girl who's fresh out of high school anymore. I've grown. I've learned from my mistakes."

A quick roll of his eyes, or maybe it was just a halflidded, sleepy gaze-with Dexter, she never knewand she found herself defending her decision even further. "I'm not going to get involved with the man. I'm
just going to make some contacts, meet some people.
Maybe by this time next year I'll be working in a
Nashville recording studio with Garth Brooks !"

Or some other country singer. As long as it wasn't
Grant Davies, it didn't really matter. There was a lot of
talent out there. The more she'd thought about things as
she fitfully tangled herself in her sheets last night, the
more she'd come to realize she'd sold herself out for
the likes of Grant Davies and a broken heart. She was
playing it safe doing dog food commercials and audio
books.

It had been her decision, of course. She couldn't
blame him for everything. Only for the broken heart
he'd left her with. And even then, there'd been signs
she'd ignored.

But leaving her career behind? No, that was all her doing. That and everything she'd done since. It was
time to make a change, keep on stretching her legs.

"I've worked on my last dog food commercial, Dex,"
she said as she zipped her bag, happy the last of the
things she'd need on the road were packed. "Come on,
boy."

Josie carefully lifted Dexter into her arms and
opened the small kennel door, closing the cage after
she'd coaxed the cat inside. He'd only given her a marginal fight this time. He'll be happy to discover this trip
didn't include a stop at the veterinarian's office. Until
then, Josie knew she'd have to deal with his wails of
distress in the car. Once they were on the road, he'd
become acclimated to the bus and even come to like it.

"At least you'll be my one true friend on the road,"
she crooned at the eyes looking back at her from the
cage. "Even though I'll be totally outnumbered."

She changed her mind at least one hundred times
between the time she dropped her bag in the trunk of
her car and drove the thirty-minute drive to where the
band was meeting. All the while, Dex wailed and Josie
wanted to wail with him.

What was she thinking? Didn't smart women learn
from their mistakes?

"This isn't a mistake. It's a new direction. An adventure, Dex," she said to the cat as she pulled into the
parking lot and saw the bus. "It's a chance for me to
prove something to myself. For once I'm not going to
run away like a dog with her tail tucked between her
legs."

Dex gave a plaintive cry. Josie wasn't sure if it was the reference to the dog or the fact that she'd just pulled
up next to the big, touring bus. The engine was burning
diesel, making noise and spewing choking, hot fumes.
Dex meowed a little more as she opened the passenger
side door and pulled him out by the handle of the animal carrier he was secure in.

"It's going to be okay, Dex. Remember, it's an
adventure."

God, she hoped so. She hoped it wouldn't end up
being an adventurous disaster.

"You made it," Brock said, coming out from around
the front of the bus.

"Was there ever a doubt?" she quipped nervously.

He just smiled and reached out to take the carrier
from her.

Josie shook her head. "Nope, not this one. This is
precious cargo. He comes with me."

"I'll take your luggage then."

"I just have a duffle in the trunk, and some things to
make Dexter comfortable."

"I still can't believe I let you talk me into taking a cat
on the road."

"Where I go, Dex goes. No room for negotiations
there. He travels well though. You'll hardly notice him
at all. You see, it's a package deal with us."

His smile was like sunshine, warming her to the
core. "It's a fine package."

Still, she rolled her eyes. "Can't you think of a better
pickup line?"

He looked momentarily hurt, until the corners of his
lips curled into a smile that lit his eyes. And he had the
most extraordinary eyes.

"I'll have to remember that about you. Nothing
halfway, nothing phony."

"Absolutely. Give me the real thing or nothing at
all."

What the heck were they talking about? She wasn't
in the market for anything from Brock other than a
chance to do what she loved. This was a second chance
to prove herself, and do things right. Dance with the big
boys, rough it out with the mad dogs and come out a
winner. A winner doing things her way for a change,
instead of getting a dog food commercial bone thrown
at her.

"I'll be sure to remember that about you." His smile
returned and when it did something sparked to life deep
in her soul. He had a nice smile, genuine and pleasing.
Josie found it hard to turn away from him.

In the studio, Brock had been focused and passionate
about what he was doing. Sure, there was ribbing all
around by the musicians and sometimes it got out of
hand when the locker room talk escalated. Then they'd
all remember there was a woman in the room and that
usually amounted to tossing cold water on the subject.

Josie had laughed a few times about the looks on
their faces. She was used to the boys room talk and felt
comfortable around it, even if she knew her presence
wasn't always welcome. She did know that she
belonged there, a part of it all.

And she belonged here, she decided as she boarded the
bus. Something about this journey felt like going home.

Josie sat in the back of tour bus, quietly removed
from the boisterous activity of the rest of the band as they argued about the set list. She seemed at home here,
Brock thought with relief. Removed, but still very
much a part of what was going on. That was good. He'd
half expected her not to show up.

She had the cat on her lap and lovingly stroked his
fur in long, tender strokes. Every so often, she'd gaze
out the window and turn her head back to him. Their
eyes would meet and she would smile. A simple gesture, but it was nothing short of splendid.

And something inside him did funny things. He
couldn't quite put a finger on it or figure out what was
drawing him toward her. Or making his mouth say the
most idiotic things.

"Twenty-three cities in twenty-five days. Twentythree shows in less than four weeks." Miles Roper, the
drummer who'd worked with them in the studio and
had only just starting working with Brock live, stood
up, drumsticks between his fingers, and gestured to the
other bands members as if he were about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. "Now whose bright idea was this?"

The sound of a tab from a soda can being popped cut
through the hum of wheels rolling over the pavement.
"What are you belly-aching about, Miles? You've got
two days off," Brock's manager said, taking a sip from
the can and then licking his lips.

"It's not the time off I'm worried about. It's being
stuck on this bus with the likes of ole Roy, here. I know
how foul smelling he is in the morning."

"Didn't I tell you? You're sharing a bunk with Roy,"
Will said laughing, thumbing toward the brawny sixfoot-five bass player who was taking up the space of
two people with arms and legs spread wide as he sat eating from a large bag of barbeque chips. Roy stopped
eating long enough to blow a teasing kiss at Miles.

"Oh, Lord, I'm in trouble. Just don't eat anything
with beans."

Brock laughed as he made his way to the back where
Josie was sitting. She'd been quiet since they'd boarded
the bus, but she'd been taking everything in. He'd been
watching her.

As he dropped down beside her on the small seat, she
rewarded him with a smile that made his mind play
tricks on him. He never quite knew what the woman
was thinking or what she was feeling behind those
beautiful eyes.

She motioned to Will with her head as she continued
to stroke the cat's fur.

"So what's the deal with Will? How'd you meet him?"

Brock glanced over at Will, who was still giving a
good teasing to Miles since he was off the phone. In a
way, it felt strange to be going on the road with people
he'd hardly known three months ago. Of all of them, he
knew his manager the best.

"Will Harlen scooped me up out of nowhere less
than a year ago after seeing me play a solo impromptu
gig outside Steerage Rock."

Her eyebrows rose. "You were playing without a
band?"

"I hooked up with these guys after I met Will. You
could call it fate. I hadn't even been scheduled to play
that night. Will had come down from Houston to see
another country band he'd heard about. I was only there
that night to see them."

"How'd you end up on stage?"

A tractor-trailer whizzed past the bus, momentarily
drawing their attention out the window. When Brock
turned back to Josie, her attention was fully on him.

"The drummer came down with an untimely case of
the stomach flu."

"Oh, no."

"Yep. The rest of the band wanted to go on with the
show, but having their drummer puking his brains out
wasn't going to make it happen."

Josie giggled and covered her mouth with her hand.
"That's awful."

"Yeah, it was a tough break for them since Will was
there to see them. I didn't even know who he was, just
heard some people talking about he'd come down to
our neck of the woods in search of the next Grant
Davies."

She flinched only slightly with the mention of Grant's
name and then recovered.

"Isn't that what everyone wants these days? Another
Grant Davies?"

"His music has been playing on all of the country
stations. He's touring and making money for the record
label that had scooped him up a few years back and
everyone wanted to emulate the kind of success the
man has achieved."

"Is that what you want?"

"I told you. I prefer his earlier work."

She smiled at that, something warm and kind and he
forced himself not to reach out and touch her face.

"That you did."

She turned to look out the window again, her hand
still poised on Dexter's back. Through the rumble of the bus, Brock could still hear the cat's purr. Yeah,
something was purring in him these days and he knew
it had a lot to do with this woman.

"Finish your story," she said.

He shrugged. "I spotted Will and he was looking
really bored and impatient like he was ready to leave. I
figured it was my open window."

Brock thought back to that night and how it had
turned a small town country boy into something that
people were starting to talk about. He'd heard the
rumor that Will Harlen had connections in Nashville.
He could make things happen. And he was there that
night for a band that didn't stand a chance of even stepping on the stage to show what it could do.

Brock had known how to spot a window of opportunity. To have not made a move would have been like
banging on a locked door when there was a perfectly
good window to sail through. He was no fool.

"Management was getting a little antsy about losing
their drinking crowd so I offered to step onto the stage
and do a solo set to keep the crowd happy. At least until
the headlining act got his head out of the toilet. All
things considered, management offered me the stage.
I'd never played a live show solo before. There was
comfort in having some familiar faces on stage with
me, even if I was the only one singing. But luckily, I
managed to get Will's attention."

Of course, it almost hadn't happened. Brock recalled
how when he'd stepped onto the stage and the spotlight
hit his face, blinding him, he thought for one brief
moment that he was about to join the drummer in the
John. But luckily, the moment quickly passed, and the fear ebbed to something exciting instead of something
driving his nerves to shreds. And just seconds after
he'd announced himself and taken that first strum on
the guitar he'd borrowed from the other band, he could
hear the silence of the room like the beat of a drum.