Strung Tight (The Road To Rocktoberfest #1) - Ann Lister Page 0,86

anxiety, and I wasn’t alone with that feeling rolling around in my gut. I was about to say something to Potter when my phone pinged in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen in shock.

“Fuckkk.” I sighed.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked.

“I finally got a message back from Dallas,” I said.

Mike grabbed my hand that held the phone. “Don’t read that now,” he suggested. “Wait until after we’re done with our soundcheck.”

I met his eyes and shook my head. “I have to see what’s going on, Mike. It’s been driving me fucking nuts. If I wait until afterward, I’ll be distracted while I play, and we don’t want that.”

“If you open his message now, you could be even more distracted,” Mike replied.

“I’m sorry, but I have to read this.”

Dallas: I’m so sorry I fucked everything up, but I can explain.

Me: Are you okay?

Dallas: I was in my friend’s car, and another car t-boned us. I got banged up, but I’ll be fine. I have to talk to a lawyer today because the cops think I was driving a stolen car, but I wasn’t driving. I had no idea the car was stolen. I should have known better than to get in their car, but I’m a dumb fuck. I’m going to try like hell to make it to Nevada for your set tomorrow. I’m so fucking sorry!

Me: Were you arrested?

Dallas: Held for questioning. My friends are the ones in trouble with the police because the car was stolen. They took off after the accident happened, but I stayed behind to help one of my friends who was hurt. I couldn’t leave him there bleeding, but when the cops saw my rap sheet, they immediately pointed the finger at me and claimed I had to be the driver and therefore had stolen the car. I was in the back seat when the accident happened, then climbed into the front to help my friend. I just need to fix things with the cops, and then I can come to see you at the event. I’m so sorry.

Me: Don’t worry about me. Make things right over there, and I’ll see you when we get back.

Dallas: I promised you I’d be at the show, and I meant it. I’ll be there. I’m not missing this over a misunderstanding with the police.

Me: I have to do a soundcheck. Good luck with the cops.

Dallas: I’ll see you soon.

Mike tugged on my arm. “Come on, let’s do this,” he said, and we walked out onto the stage. The few dozen random people in the audience cheered for us when we appeared from behind the curtain. I had no idea if they were spectators or workers, but hearing their excitement made me feel good. It seemed to take forever to reach the center of the stage. My tech came out and handed me my Fender as I moved closer to my microphone. Dagger walked out onto the stage with the choir and went through instructions with them again before he left to stand at the side of the stage.

The wait before Mike began his intro beat felt like an hour. I closed my eyes as he had suggested to calm myself, but it wasn’t working all that well. I turned around to look at him and saw him adjust a couple of things on his kit; then he glanced at me and nodded. We were ready. This was the first step of many that I hoped would take us to the next level in this industry.

Here goes nothing. I picked up my rhythm from the intro Mike laid out for us to ride, and we were all in, each of us playing our parts with everything we had. The lyrics came and I poured the emotions on thick. We were on fire, and before I knew it, the choir joined us on the platform setup behind Mike’s drum kit. I heard their harmonies and smiled behind the microphone. The other detail I noticed was how people moving around out in the audience area stopped to listen when the choir added their heavenly voices to the music we were playing. It was giving me goosebumps, and in that moment, there were no outside distractions from Dallas. This was all about my band and me and nothing more.

When our song ended, those who had stopped in front of the stage to listen gave us a round of applause. I was blown away even from this tiny bit