Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

“We’ve been working toward this for three years,” Rick reminded him.

“And I’m just as aware of it as you are. No worries here. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They bumped fists and Marc climbed into his Jeep.

He’d meant what he said to Rick. He was, after all, a professional. But what if they got the gig with Deep Blue River? What if they ended up shuffling club dates around for the more desirable major concert venues, and he lost contact with the woman carving a place for herself in his heart?

Get your head straight, buddy boy. Time enough to worry about Music Lady after tomorrow. When you know what’s really going to happen.

***

Monday, the band hung at Marc’s house while they waited for Rick. Each of them did their best to look casual but they were all wound tight as a coil of steel. Garrett had a set of drumsticks with him and persisted in beating a tempo on the ottoman until Marc was ready to kick him in the ass. Danny had made himself scarce in the spare room, working off the nervous energy with the free weights until he was covered with sweat. When they were about ready to jump out of their collective skins, the doorbell rang and Rick walked in.

Marc tried to get a read on the situation but the guitar player was wearing his best poker face. For a moment his stomach pitched, and he had a sour taste in his mouth.

We didn’t get it.

Then Rick’s face split into a huge smile and he shouted, “We’re in.” He pumped his fist in the air and laughed like an idiot. “We. Are. In.”

“He liked it?” Marc was trying to absorb the reality of the news.

“He didn’t jump up and down, if that’s what you’re asking. But he watched the video several times, making notes while he did, then sat back and said we were a good fit for his guys, and we had the sound and energy he was looking for. And the appearance.”

They pounded each other on the back, laughing, shouting. This was it. The chance they’d been working so hard for. A concert appearance with a band at the top of the charts and exposure to a major record label. If everything went well next Sunday night, they’d be leaping to the next level.

“Okay, settle down.” Rick dropped down to the couch and let his gaze travel over each of them. “We have a lot of work to do between now and then. This week we can rehearse at the club while we finish out our contract there. Then I’ve got a place lined up for us to use every day next week. We pick the best of our material, including On the Edge of the Woods, and go to work.”

Marc watched the others leave then closed the door and leaned against it. This was it. He could hardly believe it. A garage band the people said initially wouldn’t go anywhere, and here they were. He wanted to call ML and share the good news with her, tell her it was really going to happen, but damn! He didn’t have her name so obviously no number.

He couldn’t ever remember being this frustrated. Why couldn’t she trust him enough to open the last door? He’d done his best to show her his feelings, to get to know her, to ease her along, sensing how skittish she was. But now he wanted her here with him, wanted to enjoy this moment with her.

Wanted to work her into the fabric of his life as it moved into a new arena.

The next time you see her, you better be at the top of your game with her.

***

Emma picked at her food, wondering how she’d let herself get talked into this meal. She’d felt guilty she wouldn’t be spending her birthday with them, but now they were at her about it again.

“I have other plans that day.” Emma looked from one parent to the next. “I already told you that.”

I love my family but I know what their agenda is. I’m so tired of having this conversation over and over and over. And how is it a woman my age can still feel like such a child with her parents? I’m an adult.

I’m an adult.

I’m an adult.

Maybe if she repeated it enough she’d even believe it. But her mother and father had the ability to put her on the defensive, reducing her to the five-year-old child who’d broken an expensive toy belonging to someone else.

Suck it up, Emma.

Her mother’s smile was just the slightest bit forced. “I know, dear, but you’ve been acting so strange lately, we thought a celebration dinner would be a good time to get things back to normal.”

“Normal.” Emma lifted an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m as normal as I ever was.”

“Well, if your mother won’t say it, I will.” Her father set down his knife and fork precisely on the edge of his plate. “We don’t understand what’s come over you. Breaking up with Andrew. Going to strange places at night you’ve never been to before. Doing something to your hair color and putting in that god-awful purple streak. Avoiding us. Yes, avoiding,” he emphasized when she opened her mouth to contradict him. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Letting your answering machine pick up and not calling back unless you’re sure we aren’t home?”

She couldn’t really deny it. She had been dodging them, unwilling to answer their questions or explain something to them she wasn’t even sure she understood herself. She took a sip of water, giving herself time to collect her thoughts.

“I wish you could understand. I’m not doing anything bad”—much—“and I’m going to be thirty years old. Don’t you think I’m a little past having to make excuses to my parents or ask permission for what I’m doing?”

Angela Blake sighed heavily. “It’s just we like Andrew so much. He’s such a nice, steady