Dirty Laundry (Get Dirty 2)

She doesn’t seem to mind, though, judging by the smile that breaks across her face. She’s checking me out too, and I swear her gaze lingers on my crotch for just a split second longer. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part and she’s checking out my belt buckle.

“You too, Keith. You look ready to rock . . . I mean, ready to country?” she teases.

She laughs at her own joke, but I chuckle, dropping a wink for her. “Definitely ready to rock. Just don’t ask me to dance.”

She laughs, and it’s comfortable for a moment, just sitting next to each other on the leather seat, two people just . . . I don’t really know. The feeling is broken, though when my phone rings shrilly, shattering the silence.

I stifle a curse and fish it out of my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I answer. “Hey, Todd.”

Todd, who’s in either LA or New York, I’m not sure and don’t really care to find out, sounds energetic. “You good to go tonight, man?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for checking in. Security and driver were right on time. I’ll do a gear check when I get to the venue.”

“Good, good . . . what else?”

I roll my eyes at his usual pop quiz, glad he can’t see me. For fuck’s sake, I’m a pro. “KCTY radio sponsor, promote the summer tour and the new single.”

“Perfect. You’ve got this, man. What about the reporter? She’s coming to the show tonight, right? It’d be a good image for her to highlight. Maybe some pics of you onstage or with fans to help kick the grocery store ones down the image search on Google?”

The reminder pisses me off, and I know the grit is in my voice because Elise flinches beside me. “Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll tell her what you said.”

Todd sounds apologetic, and I can understand why. He knows the interviews are a pain in my ass. “I know you can’t say much with her right there, but are the interviews going okay? Tell me if you need a rescue or if we’re going to need some spin doctoring.”

I glance over at Elise, who is pointedly staring out the window, but I know she’s hanging on every word. “It’s fine. A bit rough at first when I slammed the door in her face . . .”

I see Elise crack a tiny smile, confirming my suspicion as Todd sounds like he’s about to have a coronary. “No you fucking didn’t!”

I chuckle, reaching over and patting Elise on the knee. “Actually, I did. But we came to an agreement and it’s been fine since. She’s . . . she’s good.”

Todd laughs, while I can see Elise blush lightly at my compliment. Or maybe it’s my hand on her knee, which I still haven’t lifted yet. “I can’t imagine what your agreement is, and I probably don’t want to know, do I?”

“Nope, you don’t.” I’m not even sure what our arrangement should be called. I’m just wondering if she could stretch across the backseat so I could touch every inch of her silky skin.

Todd lowers his voice, virtually whispering in the phone as though Elise could hear him, and I smirk over at Elise, who’s smiling back, her eyes gleaming as she stretches out a leg for my perusal. “Any suspicions on the you know what front?”

I think for a second how to answer in a way that won’t make Elise suspicious, and part of me is reminded again why I have to be careful around her. I’ve got miles to go and secrets to keep. “So far, so good.”

Todd sighs in relief, and in the background, I hear someone holler out his name. “All right then, man . . . listen, I gotta cover some fires on this end. Have a great show. I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure thing,” I answer easily, glad I don’t have his career. “‘Bye, Todd.”

I hang up, turning to Elise, who’s still not taken my hand from her leg. “Sorry about that. Manager always checks in before a show to make sure I’m not gonna screw something up.”

Elise looks thoughtful for a second, then gives me a raised eyebrow. “So, you’re here alone, basically. No big crew, no manager clearing the way, no team of stylists getting you primped and teased up for stage. That seems . . . unusual.”

There’s not a question in there, but I treat it like one anyway. A part of me wonders if Elise sort of likes it that it’s just me and her. It’s more intimate this way.

“For tour, there’s a bigger crew and a whole team of folks that travel with us. I mean, I don’t need a huge backup band, but I do like to have a consistent crew for that. But for shows like this, I try to keep it simple. I’ve done bar gigs my whole life, so I don’t need a bunch of guys telling me how to tune my guitar or what to wear. Damn sure don’t need a hair stylist,” I say, taking my hat off to run a hand across my bare head. “Although I should get Gillette to sponsor my next tour.”