“Oh, now I want one,” Junior says.
Scotty leans in close to the microphone. “Does tequila make your clothes come off, Shelby Morgan?”
What a waste of such a smooth baritone voice. I roll my eyes as he sits back in his chair and preens like the dumbest peacock in the flock, proud of himself for the cheesy song reference.
“Not even if you were Joe Nichols himself,” I answer with a tart snap to my tone.
“Is there someone special in your life, Shelby?” Junior says.
I duck my head, trying to stop the heat spreading over my cheeks.
“Aw, she’s blushing.” Scotty giggles like an idiot. “Is it Dawson? Oh, even better, is it a woman? There are no lesbian country singers, are there? What a shame.”
How the heck did Greg think this show would be a good move for me?
“Is it hard being in a relationship when you’re on the road so much?” Junior asks.
Nice try at injecting some normalcy into this stupid interview.
“It is. But I’m incredibly blessed that he’s able to visit me with some frequency.”
“That must bum your male fans out, no?” Scotty asks.
“I guess.”
“Rumor has it, you have an obsessed fan. Is that true?” Junior asks.
And I thought you were the nice one.
So far, I’ve done a good job of staring straight ahead and not checking to see if Rooster’s watching or not.
As if he’s physically compelling me to turn around, my body shifts. He’s standing at the window staring at me with a whole lot of what the fuck burning in his eyes.
That’ll be a fun conversation to have later.
“My fans are lovely. I’m grateful to have them,” I say softly into the microphone.
I’d have to be nuttier than a squirrel turn to risk pissing off the creepy letter writer just so these two can get their jollies off.Rooster
“Rumor has it, you have an obsessed fan. Is that true?”
What the fuck?
The whole time Shelby’s been in there with those two jerks, I’ve been tense. Edgy. Ready to break down the door and crack their skulls together for the stupid shit they’re saying.
Obsessed fan? Did they make that up to fuck with her? I’ve been stalking her social media like a fat kid waiting for the ice cream truck during summer break and haven’t seen any mention of it. I’ve even been checking that stupid gossip blog that seems to be obsessed with her love life.
“What’s he talking about?” Jigsaw asks. “Shelby has a stalker?”
“First I’ve heard it.” I take out my phone and check out one of her accounts. “She’s got a bunch of creepy fucks who follow her and send her weird DMs.”
Jigsaw’s eyes widen. “Did you hack into her Instagram account?”
“Hack is such an ugly word.” I shrug off the question.
“Glad I won’t be in the truck with you two later,” he mutters.
“Fuck.”
“What?”
“I recognize this guy.” Middle-aged, sweaty, black polo shirt, khaki pants—he defines out-of-place at a country concert in the heat of the summer. “He was at the Wellspring show. I’m almost positive.”
“So?”
I flick through the photos he’s posted. “Shit, he’s seen her in concert more than I have.”
“Everyone needs a hobby. Don’t be so judgmental.”
I grab a few screenshots of the guy’s page and shove my phone in my pocket. “What’s with you saying she’s your sister, by the way?”
He shrugs. “I figured that would shut them up and take the attention off you.”
I slap his chest with the back of my hand. “Thanks.”
“You need me to go to the show with you tonight?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“She’s playing there tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Should be fun.”
Finally, the inane interview ends. Scotty boy tries the whole “let me take you to dinner” thing with Shelby but she shuts him down fast. I’m so eager to get her alone, I’m practically vibrating out of my skin.
“Thanks so much, Shelby.” Junior shakes her hand as they step out of the studio.
The assistant who’d set Shelby up with her microphone and headset earlier returns with a camera. The three of them stand in front of the station logo, posing for a few shots.
My eyes are glued to Shelby, so the second Scotty drapes his arm over her shoulder, my whole body tenses.
“Easy,” Jigsaw warns. “Jesus.”
Easy nothing. Five seconds later, Scotty “accidentally” brushes his fingers over Shelby’s breast. Back and forth. The twitch at the corners of his mouth announces it’s a deliberate move.
“Get off me!” Shelby’s outraged shriek propels me across the room.
But I don’t have time to wrap my hands around Scotty’s neck. Shelby reels back and brings her knee straight up into his groin.
“Oof.” He doubles over.
Jigsaw bursts out laughing. “Good job, Shelby.”
Junior backs away from Shelby with his hands in the air, like she randomly decided to go on a ball-breaking spree for no reason.
“You need a leash on your boy, Junior,” she snaps.
Scotty’s still wailing over his aching balls. I lift my foot and press my boot to his chest, kicking him onto his back. I lean over and grab a handful of his shirt, yanking him up into my face. “You’re lucky she got to you before I did. That kick to your nuts is gonna feel like a tickle compared to what I’ll do if you ever come near her again.”