Nobody Falls for the Opening Act (Break the Rules Book 2)

Chapter 44

“Keen eyes should spot two noticeable omissions from Dade Connery’s list of collaborators: rock’s current dueling bands: Criminal Records and The Electrics.”

Katrina reads aloud to the rest of us from the dressing room vanity, her phone held loosely in one hand.

“Following Criminal Records’ embarrassing no-call-no-show at the Bass and Bliss Music Festival in Austin this past week,” she continues, those words no doubt tasting as bitter as they sound, “The Electrics were thought to be a shoo-in for music legend’s comeback album, but Connery passed on the rising stars of rock stating that while he enjoyed their look and sound, it wasn’t right for the album.” She looks up, her eyes full of intrigue. “Well, that’s interesting.”

I let a smile touch the corner of mouth as I zip up my boot. Only Bronson is sitting close enough to me on the old couch to notice, but he won’t say a word. Rarely ever does. He just sits back and listens, absently rolling a drumstick through his fingers.

“That’s right, Shock,” Knox says, from the other side of the couch as he rubs one of Harmony’s feet in his lap. “Get fucked.”

Jonah chuckles as he tightens his tie, but he’ll only loosen it again to give it that I totally didn’t try that hard appearance.

“As for the nation’s number one band...” Katrina smiles, an obvious nod to us. “Connery said he extended an invitation to Criminal Records to guest on the album, but they sadly turned down his offer.”

Knox frowns. “We did?”

“Ouch!” Harmony flinches as Knox digs a little too deep into her arch. “Gentle, gentle.”

Katrina raises a finger to quiet them. “However, Connery says that he remains hopeful for a Criminal Records collaboration in the future and that the next time they tour through Nashville, dinner is on him.” She hums softly. “That’s kinda nice.”

I smile again.

“Yeah, he’s a real swell dude,” Knox says. “Jordan!”

A second later, Jordan appears in the dressing room doorway with her clipboard. “What is it, Knox?” she asks, a thousand to-dos scrolling through her eyes behind her glasses.

“What’s this about us turning down a track on Dade Connery’s album?” he asks.

She shrugs. “First I’m hearing about it.”

“I turned it down,” I say.

“Oh,” Jordan says with a nod. “Well, there you go then.”

She walks off, rushing to get back to making sure this show starts on time.

Knox turns his hands up at me. “What the hell, Addy?”

I do the same to him. “Yes, Knox?”

“Don’t you think that’s the kind of thing we should all weigh in on before a decision is made?” he asks.

“All those in favor of doing a track on Dade Connery’s album, raise your hand,” I say to the room.

No one raises a hand.

I nod. “All those opposed?”

We all raise our hands.

“And there you go,” I say.

“Well, obviously it’s a no,” Knox says as he lowers his arm. “Just would have been nice to be included in the conversation, that’s all.”

“My deepest apologies, Mr. Benton. Next time, I will include you in the awkward conversations I have with my absent father.”

Knox shifts, knowing he overstepped. “Don’t let it happen again,” he mutters, his eyes soft and friendly.

I smile, the water already flowing under the bridge.

“Five minutes!”

We flinch, Jordan suddenly back in the doorway.

“Shot time!” she says, waving us along. “Then warm-ups. Let’s go.”

We all hop up excitedly, Jonah grabbing the bottle of bourbon off the table as he moves. Each of us snatch a shot glass off the table before forming a circle around the room and taking turns filling out shots to the brims.

“Wait,” I say. “Where’s Harvey?”

“Moondog!”Knox shouts through the doorway. “Get your pretty ass in here!”

We all shout his name. Despite years of doing this pre-show ritual, it’s just not the same without Harvey Moon anymore. No one said anything when he didn’t join us for shot time in Austin or again in New Orleans, but I could tell the weight of his absence was felt on all our shoulders.

Now, he’s back.

And he’s not going anywhere.

Harvey finally appears in the doorway, drawn by our banshee cries. I step to the side, breaking the circle and making a spot just for him next to me.

“Come on,” I say, offering an empty glass. “It’s shot time.”

Harvey smiles at the warm welcome, happy to be back. He hasn’t gotten the chance to truly apologize to the rest of them just yet, but there’s no doubt in my mind they won’t all forgive him in time.

Everyone stands with their shot glasses raised high above our heads.

“Three!” Katrina says.

“Two!” I say.

“One!” Jonah says.

“It’s shot ti?—!”

“Wait!”

We freeze, Jordan’s voice somehow booming over us and all the other backstage sounds.

“Before we do this, I have something to say,” she says, her voice lower but no less of an authority. “So far, this tour... hasn’t exactly gone according to plan. Usually, that’s not an issue. My backup plans have their own backup plans. However, this tour… for some ungodly reason… has been more unpredictable than ever. That might be fine and dandy for you guys. The Rebels of Rock. But, for me, it sucks.”

We deflate, ready to offer her words of comfort and apologies.

But Jordan throws up her hand, silencing us. “Now...” she says pointedly to be sure she has our full attention. “Starting tonight, starting right now, I want all of you to promise me you’ll be chill. All right? I know we’ve had an interesting few days. Finding that bug on the bus this morning certainly isn’t helping matters, but you’re all adults and you should — theoretically — be able to go one week without dragging us through the shit. We have a little over a month left of this tour.”

“Still?” Jonah murmurs, so very homesick, so very lonely being outside of Marla’s bed for too long.

“Eleven shows remaining starting three days from tonight in Kansas City,” Jordan says.

“The Midwest route!” Knox bounces with excitement. “Lots of wide open fields. We should totally go star bussing again, you gu?—”

Bronson punches him in the arm.

“Ow!” Knox looks into Jordan’s serious eyes and retreats. “Sorry, Jordan,” he says, shutting up.

“No more breaking the rules,” Jordan says, raising her sharp brows. “No more banging other bandmates. No more late night field trips by yourselves. No more getting into fist fights or getting arrested or anything else you’ve done so far. From now on, you wake up. You go to practice. You make it to sound check on time. The show goes on and then you chill out.” She takes a quick breath. “I’m including myself in this rant, by the way. Starting tonight, no more Mrs. Nice Jordan. I will not be so lenient with you when you fuck up. For the rest of this tour, when you’re off the clock, you’re not Criminal Records anymore. You’re Law-Abiding... Records,” she spits, unable to think of a different word. “Understand?”

“Yes!” we all say.

“We’re sorry, Jordan.”

“Super sorry.”

“We’ll be chill.”

“I can still bang Harmony though, right?”

I perk up, her answer to that question relevant to my interests as well.

Jordan smiles, stiffly. “Sure, Knox.”

He exhales, relieved, as Harmony rolls her eyes beside him.

I wink at Harvey and he blushes.

“Now.”Jordan raises her shot glass. “Three-two-one!”

“It’s shot time!”

We toss our drinks back with howls and shouts, enjoying the collective burn down our throats.

“Harvey,” Jordan says as she sets her empty glass down, already fully recovered. “I believe you have a crowd to warm up.” She quickly checks the time. “Three minutes!”

“That I do,” Harvey says, stepping back out of the circle as the rest of us cheer for him. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Go get ‘em, Moondog!”

“Break a leg, Harvey.

“We love you, Harvey!”

I follow him out of the dressing room, snatching his hand at his side. He happily entwines his fingers with mine and we walk together toward the wings. Beyond the curtain, the sold out Nashville crowd buzzes with anticipation.

“They’re glad you’re back, you know,” I say.

Harvey smiles. “I technically didn’t go anywhere.”

“You almost did.” I eye him curiously. “If things had worked out with Dade, would you have left the tour?”

He ponders that for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he says. “Would you have wanted me to stay?”

“I’m not sure,” I tease, curling my arms around his neck. “I suppose a girl can always be persuaded.”

“Oh.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “So, now you’re a grand gesture kind of girl, huh?”

“I’m starting to see the appeal,” I joke before tilting my head and kissing him.

Harvey holds me close, his arms a fierce and protective force around my waist. He crushes his mouth on mine, his lips curling with devious thoughts.

“Well, in that case,” he whispers, just for me.

Then, he breaks away, that damned smirk digging in.

“In that case, what, Harvey?” I ask.

August appears by his side with his own clipboard glued to his hand. Jordan and Chrissy have taught him well.

“Thirty seconds, bud,” he says to Harvey. “Go knock ‘em dead.”

“In that case, what, Harvey?” I repeat.

Harvey doesn’t reply, his happy face saying it all as the house lights plunge into darkness and the audience screams.

Barely visible in the darkness, Harvey takes the stage alone with his guitar. He sits down on the stool waiting for him center stage. He takes a few moments to get situated, balancing his guitar on his thigh and pinching his pick.

Beside me, August whimpers softly.

Wait, he what?

I glance at him, his eyes on Jordan and Chrissy far into the backstage beyond. He sees me looking at him and he straightens up with a harsh clearing of his throat.

Weird.

I turn back to Harvey. He takes a deep breath and holds it, a little pre-show ritual of his own. I noticed it the very first time I saw him perform for us in Chicago. It was… the moment. The moment I knew he was special. That he wasn’t just another guy with a guitar. My heart quivers with surprise. I had no idea back then how much I’d come to adore him. To admire him.

To love him.

In the dark, Harvey Moon plays. The sound carries through the house, every speaker coming to life with his music. The crowd releases another wild cheer, plenty of them recognizing that this song is new. Never before played on stage.

Blue Eyes.

The lights come up on Harvey, triggering another round of happy screams. He smiles, so very at home beneath the bright stage lights.

“How you doing tonight, Nashville?”

I grin at the warm response.

“Good to hear,” Harvey says, strumming the same chord softly. “Got a new song for you guys tonight, but before I get to it...”

My nerves spike.

“I wanted to dedicate it to the lovely, talented, brilliant, and beautiful... Addison Abbey.”

Unsurprisingly, they swoon over it. My cheeks burn, but I’m not sure if that’s from embarrassment or because I’m smiling too hard.

Harvey gives me a hidden glance over his shoulder, and then he plays.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

I look at August beside me. “What?” I ask.

He smirks. “You’re not so different after all.”

“How do you mean?”

“Nothing, just...” He shakes his head at Harvey. “Girls back home would crumble to their knees when he played his guitar. He thought you were above that, but...” He winks. “You’re not, are you? Every girl loves a musician. Every single one of them.”

I smile at Harvey.

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess we do.”