“I don’t know what to play for these people,” Sam was muttering at his phone. “I guess . . . all of the Ke$ha. Then what?”
Because he needed her so badly, Charlotte stepped close to him, looked over his shoulder at his phone, and made suggestions from our repertoire for the playlist. Without looking up, he reached behind her and rubbed the back of her neck in an overly friendly gesture of camaraderie. It was amazing that she stayed upright, because her shoulders collapsed like a rag doll under his hand.
Ace’s eyes locked with mine in a mutual understanding of jealousy and disgust. But knowing Ace was dying inside, too, didn’t make me feel any better. I wound my way to the back of the stage, brought out my fiddle and dumped my case, and rushed back to the front before the restless crowd started chanting.
When I first surveyed the audience, I’d been afraid they wouldn’t like our music, at least after we ran out of Ke$ha. But they were enthusiastic to the point of frenzy, and a couple of fights broke out at the edges of the rooftop. I thought the difference was that this audience was younger than our usual spectators, and some of them were drinking underage and weren’t handling it well. It was also the largest crowd I’d seen at Boot Ilicious. The pushing that resulted made everyone testy. Normally the audience would be spread out over three stories of dance floors, but tonight most of them seemed to be crowding here.
It didn’t bother me, as long as they didn’t touch me or nudge my bow. It bothered Sam, though. Between songs, he kept casting a worried eye across the sea of screaming faces, and he didn’t respond with much enthusiasm to the calls of “Sam!” from the groupie girls from his high school who had finally caught up with him. When we’d almost reached our ten o’clock break and I pointed behind Ace, wordlessly asking him to pass me the tip jar, Sam shook his head at both of us and pointed at Ace. Ace got down from the stage and held the jar instead of me. I didn’t mouth a thank-you to Sam, but judging from some of the grinding that had been passing for dancing in the crowd, I was grateful.
At the break, Sam set his guitar in its stand and headed inside. I knew I wouldn’t be following him. Better to get through this night as far away from him as possible. Instead, I headed to the back of the stage and set one elbow on the guardrail at the edge of the roof. Preparations were still under way for the CMA Festival that started tomorrow. Julie’s first performance of the festival would be tomorrow night, almost directly below me at the Riverwalk stage. On the other side of the Cumberland River, the Titans stadium glowed. Tomorrow it would host some headliners for the CMA Festival, probably six country superstars back-to-back in one long concert. The next night, Friday, Julie would be one of them.
Not one member of my family had contacted me about going. Both concerts were probably sold out by now. I hadn’t checked. I wasn’t going to spend my life following Julie around and lurking in her shadow. I’d had enough of that last night.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone sidling up next to me at the wall. I turned to glare at whoever it was. Nobody but the band should have been back here. Ace wouldn’t go out of his way to talk to me, and Sam had better not. Not tonight. And the last person I wanted to talk to right now was—
Charlotte. “I see you’ve decided to let the crowd focus on Sam rather than you tonight,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to distract anyone with what you’re wearing.”
“You know what?” I turned on her so suddenly that she stepped back. “This may be the last time I’ll ever play in public, and I wanted to go out with a bang. Sam gave me the line last night. ‘I’m messed up right now, and I can’t give you what you deserve.’ Remember? You got what you wanted, so turn that frown upside down.”
I turned to gaze at the stages along the river again and waited for her to scamper inside the bar in search of Sam.
“That’s not right,” she said. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, and I didn’t care anymore.
“I know I’ve given you a lot of grief,” she said, “but I just didn’t want Sam bringing random people into the band without checking with me, when I’ve worked so hard with these guys. And then it seemed like Ace . . .”
As her voice trailed off, I looked over at her. Her eyes were searching the restless crowd for Ace, not Sam.
She turned back to me. “You don’t understand. Ever since Sam’s girlfriend—”
“Which one?” I asked sharply.
“Emily.” Her tone made it sound like I should know all about Emily. “Ever since she died, it’s like that was so intense for him that he can’t really feel anymore. He’s had a lot of girlfriends, but I don’t think he ever got this serious with anybody. He didn’t with me. If he did with you, and then broke up with you, it sounds like he’s getting worse.”
“His girlfriend died?” I echoed.
“He didn’t tell you that?”
I swallowed. “He told me he had a friend who died in a drunk- driving accident.”
Charlotte watched me carefully now as she realized I knew way less about this than she’d thought. “The police said it was an accident.”
I pulled my hand away from my face right before I rubbed under my eye. “Is that why he went to counseling?”
“Grief counseling, yeah,” Charlotte said. “I wish they hadn’t kicked him out. All he did was ask a girl in the group on a date, and her dad had a fit and complained about Sam, which was exactly what he didn’t need right then. If he’d stayed in the group, I think he’d be a lot better now. Ever since then, I don’t think he’s meaning to be a playboy or to be cruel. It’s just that girls are attracted to him and feel sorry for him and want to save him. He likes them, too. He likes everybody. He wants to feel that emotion. But then, when he starts to feel too much for a girl, he’s scared she feels the same way about him. And he doesn’t want anybody to feel that strongly about him again, because of Emily. He tells me he doesn’t believe she killed herself over him, and he doesn’t feel guilty, but I think that’s just what he’s telling himself so he can survive.”
She met my gaze. “I’m really sorry, Bailey. I am honestly shocked that you got the line from him, too. I thought you were different.”
“I knew I wasn’t.” I pushed off from the wall, snagged my purse from the top of my fiddle case, and shoved my way toward the door inside. I probably should have thanked Charlotte for all the information, but I wasn’t in a grateful mood.