Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“You hate your job,” Libby points out.
Damn this kid and her ability to read me like an open book.
“I don’t hate it,” I lie. “It’s just not my passion in life.”
Just because I can’t go doesn’t mean I should deny Libby the opportunity.
Ugh, now I can’t get that thought out of my head. It would be a fun opportunity for Libby. How many girls her age have the chance to go on tour with their favorite singer?
“You sure you wanna be in the entertainment industry?” Shelby asks Libby. “It’s hell on your confidence sometimes. If I had a nickel for every time someone called me fat…I wouldn’t need to tour.” She laughs but the hurt in her voice suggests it bugs her.
“Wait, who the heck would call you fat?” I ask. Although I shouldn’t be surprised. People are full of vile opinions these days and not shy about sharing them, even when no one asked.
“I know, right?” Shelby jumps off the bench and strikes a seductive pose, running her fingers over her hips, then up to her breasts like a tiny, southern Marilyn Monroe. “I prefer to say plushy but lithe. And flexible.” She finishes by gracefully placing the sole of her foot against her inner thigh and pressing her palms together in front of her chest—prayer-style. A yoga pose I recognize as mountain.
“Plushy.” I chuckle. “I like that.”
“I wanna design a line of bras and call ’em that. Plushy.” She drops the yoga pose and flicks her thumbs toward the sky. “C cups and up.”
I snort-laugh and glance around the table. “I feel like that will be successful.”
“Em, the tour?” Libby prods.
“We’ll see.”
Libby groans and puts her head on the table.
Shelby pats her shoulder but looks at me. “It wouldn’t have to be the whole tour. She could maybe come for a week or two.”
Libby pops her head up, nodding vigorously.
That might not be too bad. “Maybe,” I say.
Libby tilts her head to look at Shelby. “That’s closer to a yes than Emily’s ‘we’ll see,’ which is basically a no.”
Shelby’s lips curve into a smile but she doesn’t try to keep convincing me.
DEX
The cookout has turned into more of a party. Music’s loud. Grill’s still going but desserts are being served now too. People have wandered away to check out the new cars lining up along the fence.
Emily seems less annoyed with me. I curl my hand over her shoulder and lean over to drop a kiss on her cheek. “You having a good time?” I whisper in her ear.
Her cheeks are flushed red. Not from alcohol or the sun, she just seems to be enjoying herself. “I am.” She dips closer and catches my lips for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”
“Get a room,” Libby moans.
Shelby chuckles and pats Libby’s shoulder. “I’ll get you more fried dough balls. That’ll make it better.”
“Ooo, do they have chocolate sauce for them?” Libby asks.
“I’ll check,” Shelby promises.
I kiss Emily’s cheek again. “I’ll go help her.” I nod at her empty plastic cup. “Need more to drink?”
“I just had ice water.”
“Got it.” I reach over and grab her cup. “Libby?”
“Sprite if you see any.”
“Coming right up.”
I bump into Shelby in the line for fried dough.
She stares up at me with laughter glinting in her eyes. “Don’t you go telling Sparky I was out here stuffing my face with sugar. He’ll be tryin’ to push those pot brownies on me again.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I lean down closer to her ear. “Thank you, by the way.”
She blinks and tilts her head. “For?”
“Doing everything to make both of them feel welcomed.” I nod to the festive atmosphere around us. “I want Emily comfortable around the club. Libby too.”
Sadness flashes in her eyes for a second. Brief but obvious. Maybe Libby reminds Shelby of her own little sister who passed away when they were kids. “Aw, of course. Libby’s a sweetheart. So much nicer and more thoughtful than girls in my high school were.” She scowls as if bad memories are resurfacing.
“Yeah, she’s funny, too.”
“I’m afraid I mighta jammed my entire boot in my mouth, though.” She pulls a scared face.
“How so?” I can’t picture Shelby doing anything to hurt someone’s feelings.
“Asking if Libby can tour with me. She has all that theater experience and seemed so excited. I really do need help. Rooster’s gonna be busy coordinating all the security stuff, he can’t be runnin’ off to fetch me tea and everything, ya know?”
After what happened to her, if she thinks Rooster won’t be hovering every second of her tour, she’s sadly mistaken. Brother’s got a long memory and a wide protective streak.
“I won’t touch that one. That’s up to Emily.” One corner of my mouth slides up. “I will let it slip that you’re not a party animal who’ll be taking her little sister out drinking or any other crazy shit.”