“Prepare yourself — he’s got your picture up on the star wall.”
“What?”
“Right next to Elvis.” Her eyes gleam. “And Bethany Hayes, of course. Pretty prime location, if you ask me.”
I’m feeling suddenly choked up. “Which photo?”
“One of the whole band, from that photoshoot you did two years ago when you first signed with Route 66. It’s hanging behind the bar.”
“I fuckinghatethat photo,” Aiden mutters. “We look like a damn Old Navy advertisement.”
Ryder snorts. “The black-on-black ensembles were Francesca’s idea, were they not? I tried to tell her, Cash was the only one who could pull that shit off…”
“Speaking of the she-devil, is she coming to the show tonight?” Linc asks.
“Let me check…” Carly scrolls through her email. “Yep. In fact, she’s already at the hotel. Wants to meet you for a debriefing session in the lobby as soon as you arrive.”
Suddenly, no one looks as eager to leave the bus. The last thing any of us wants to deal with right now is someone from the record label.
“You know…” I clear my throat. “Maybe we can convince Issac to open a few hours early for us…”
Aiden slings an arm over my shoulder and squeezes. “That may be the best idea you’ve ever had, Wilde.”
* * *
The doors are unlocked,despite the fact that The Nightingale doesn’t open for several hours. Predictably, we hear a gruff bark from behind the bar as we step over the threshold.
“We’re closed, come back at five.”
“Even for a few old friends?” I call, stepping fully into view. My smile widens to a grin as Issac spots me, so surprised he drops the glass he was polishing with a clatter. His weathered face boasts a few more wrinkles, his temples are peppered with more gray than I remember, but his answering smile is exactly the same.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Felicity Wilde! Get over here, girl.”
I weave through a section of high top tables as he comes around the bar. We meet in the middle, and I’m immediately pulled into a bear hug. His steady presence washes over me like a tonic, smoothing away the feathers of anxiety that have been ruffling inside me for the past few weeks.
The first day we met, I recognized that his barrel-like chest and grumpy demeanor are a well-crafted disguise for the biggest heart in this city. Issac gave me a chance when no one else would have. Took me in when he easily could’ve tossed me out on the street.
“I’m so sorry about your grandmother,” he murmurs in my ear. “How you holding up?”
“Good days and bad days. I’m getting through it.”
“She’d be proud, you know.”
Pulling out of his hold, I blink back tears. When he sees them, he adopts a stern expression. “Ah, hell. None of that, now.”
“Stop being sweet and I’ll stop crying.”
“Perfect. I’ve just remembered I’m mad at you, anyway.”
“Oh?” I grin.
“Hell yeah. You poached my best stage manager right out from under me.” He surveys the rest of the group as they settle in on a row of barstools. “Carly! Where are you?”
“Here, boss!” The blonde pops up onto the balls of her feet, leans over the bar, and deposits a quick kiss on Issac’s cheek. “Good to see you.”
His glare intensifies, but can’t quite hide the blush creeping up his neck. “Don’t try to sweet talk me, missy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”