Dixon swung his gaze from me to Daisy to Shirleen.
“Who’re you?” he asked Shirleen.
He asked Shirleen but Daisy answered.
“Managers. We all manage The Gypsies. Just like any real good, smokin’ hot rock band, they’re a handful, comprende?”
“They’re not my managers,” I told Dixon.
Shirleen had her fingers curled around Dixon’s upper arm and was leading him to the door. She leaned in toward his ear and lied, “She says that three times a day.” I looked to the ceiling and silently said a short, pointed prayer.
My prayer went ignored and, with a bemused glance over his shoulder at me, Dixon Jones disappeared behind the door.
I turned woodenly and looked at Al y. “What just happened?”
“Ask me no questions, I’l tel you no lies,” Al y replied.
My eyes narrowed and I could actual y feel my pulse beating in my throat.
Then I shouted, “What the ef does that mean?”
“That means,” Jet materialized in front of me, “you have to trust us.”
This was not good.
Not good at al .
They were up to something.
And I was pretty certain I knew what it was and I didn’t like it.
I shook my head at Jet. “Not with a scout I don’t.”
“Trust us,” Indy said, coming to stand by Jet.
Ef that!
“You al are f**king nuts. Everyone is f**king nuts! The world is f**king nuts!” I yel ed just as the door opened and Mace walked in.
Completely oblivious to my tantrum, Mace looked at me with stil angry eyes and announced, “Time for your last set and, Stel a, if there’s one f**kin’ song about death or guns, I’m gonna shoot you.”
Effing… bloody… hell.
* * * * *
We were scorching through our gig-ending “Ghostriders” when it happened. I’d managed to put everything to the back of my head and the last set, if possible, was better than the first three.
We’d started the set easing the crowd into the vibe by doing America’s “Ventura Boulevard”. We could burn the house down with chest-thumping rock ‘n’ rol but between Floyd, Buzz, Leo and me, we could also sing a powerful harmony and, even if I said so myself, our “Ventura Boulevard” was sweet.
We fol owed that with two more of Buzz and Leo’s new songs. When I introduced the songs the crowd shouted their approval so loud, they missed the first thirty seconds of the first song because their cheers were drowning out the music.
I got a warm fuzzy feeling watching the crowd’s approval wash over Buzz and Leo. My two boys glanced at each other, their faces an obvious mixture of the panic and thril I’d been feeling al day. But, with them, I could see the thril part was definitely winning.
Then we were done messing around. It was time to rock and we slid back into the theme of the night (Mace was just going to have to shoot me) with REO Speedwagon’s
“Ridin’ the Storm Out”, Mol y Hatchett’s “Flirtin’ with Disaster”, The Doobie Brothers’ “Dangerous” and final y
“Ghostriders”.