Chaser’s staring down at the table, shaking with laughter. “I feel like we’re holding you back, man.”
Mallory elbows him.
“For fuck’s sake.” Dawson rips the card into little pieces and deposits it in the middle of the table. “After all that shit with Glenna, that’s the last damn thing I need,” he mutters.
Something caustic like, “yeah, poor woman will probably end up in some stalker’s basement if Glenna sees you with her,” threatens to trip off my tongue. But that’s rude as hell and unfair, so I keep my lips zipped shut.
“So.” Dawson claps his big hands together. “If we can talk about anything else, that would be great.”
Mallory blinks. “How’d it go in the studio today?”
“Excellent question.” Dawson grins. “Shelby and your husband very kindly pointed out that I’m desperately in need of unique ideas.”
Ice-cold fear sweeps through my belly. I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut earlier.
Chaser bursts out laughing. Sure, he can afford to laugh. He’s mostly retired from the music business and couldn’t give a shit about pissing off Dawson Roads.
“Relax, Shelby.” Dawson pats my back. “I ain’t mad.”
Yeah right. Sounds exactly like what someone in Dawson’s position would say right before pulling the plug on my budding career.
Although, if he were mad, he wouldn’t be taking me out to dinner and introducing me to producers, right? Maybe he actually respects my opinion?
“Kindly, huh? Are you sure that was my husband?” Mallory teases. “He usually offers his opinions in a much more…shall we say, blunt, manner.”
Chaser smirks but doesn’t deny his wife’s claim.
Rooster ducks his head and snickers into his hand.
Guess it’s my turn to elbow my man.
“That was the gist of it.” Dawson’s gaze darts between Chaser and me. “I’ve read reviews from my last two albums. And hell, nothing could be worse than Colby Blue ranting on national radio about how my last album made him want to puke every time he heard it.”
Ouch. I remember that interview. One of country’s rising stars attacking country’s biggest superstar. It had been ugly as hell.
“Fuck that guy,” Chaser says. “Talk about unoriginal.”
“Yeah, why’s he listening to it so many times if he hates it so much?” I point out. “Anyone with some gray matter between their ears could tell he was using your name to get some attention for himself.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. Appreciate that.” Dawson shines a big ol’ smile on me. “Anyway, y’all said it much nicer than anyone else has. Why do you think I was so adamant about working with you, Chaser?”
“And my family appreciates your dogged determination.” Chaser holds up his glass to toast Dawson.
I take that to mean Dawson threw a buttload of cash at Chaser to entice him to Nashville.
Hmm, maybe I’m in the wrong end of the music business?
I listen to them banter back and forth about Dawson’s early days in the industry. His experience has been quite different from mine. And Chaser’s stories, well, the business has certainly changed a lot. I focus on my steak and try to absorb whatever information I can from their conversation.
“So, how y’all know each other?” Dawson wags a finger between Chaser and Rooster. “Outlaw clubs allow their members to mingle with rival club members?”
Holy moly.
Obviously, Dawson’s aware Rooster’s in an MC but he’s never asked such a direct question about it before that I know of.
Chaser shifts his gaze to Rooster. “Jesus, you probably weren’t even born yet when our clubs started working together.”
Rooster shrugs. “Demons have been friends of my club as long as I can remember. Especially in New York.”
“Wasn’t always that way, but my dad put a lot of effort into building relationships with other clubs. Lost Kings were always the most receptive and reliable.” Chaser cocks his head. “You don’t remember Grinder, do you?”
“I know him,” Rooster says. “Z sent me to visit him not that long ago.”
“How’s he doing?” Mallory bites her lip. “I was hoping he’d be out soon. Rock says the parole board’s screwed him a few times.”
“Like you said.” Rooster lifts his chin at Chaser. “I don’t know him from before he went inside. But he has his sense of humor. I think he’ll be all right.”
“Well, if I know Rock, he’s made sure Grinder’s taken care of and will help him adjust to life on this side.” Chaser shakes his head and taps his fingers against the table. “I think that’s the hardest part for the old-timers sometimes. He’s been inside, what, ten, fifteen years? The world’s gonna smack him in the face with a lot of changes.”
Poor Grinder. I don’t even know him at all and I feel bad.
“What are you talking about?” Mallory elbows Chaser. “My father comes out more ornery each time.”
“I think he meant bikers,” Rooster says. “Your father’s a force of nature in his own category, Mallory.”
Her pretty smile falters. “I hope he’s staying out of trouble.”