After a flurry of texts, Jigsaw and Dex are added to the list and allowed to roll past the security gate.
Greg meets us at the entrance to the theater.
“More bikers?” He rakes his gaze over the four of us, finally landing on Shelby. “Are you kidding me?” Greg’s face is so red, I’m waiting for steam to shoot out of his ears.
“Easy, Greg.” I step up, placing myself between Greg and Shelby. “I asked some of my brothers to join us so we don’t have a repeat of the other night.”
“Well, I…” He backs off, blows out a breath, and drops the disrespectful attitude.
“And watch how you talk to Shelby,” I add, giving Greg a dose of lethal biker stare.
“There’s no money in the budget to pay for security.”
What a load of shit. Dawson’s got money coming out his ass, and he can’t afford to protect his opening act? What-the-fuck-ever.
“I don’t need her money.” I sneer at him.
“I’ll get you some extra passes so you can move through the venue without being hassled.” He turns and jogs down the hallway.
Good choice. Although I think it has more to do with not wanting to draw attention Shelby’s biker entourage than our comfort.
Jigsaw’s shaking with laughter when I turn around. “You sure scared the piss outta him.” He lifts his chin at Shelby. “He get surly with you like that all the time?”
She glances at me before shrugging. “I pick my battles.”
Considering the unwanted attention and gossip article from the other night, I’m not expecting her to reach up and loop her arms around my neck. “Thank you,” she whispers, kissing my jaw. “I’m real happy you’re here tonight.”
Jigsaw clears his throat in a particularly loud, obnoxious way.
Shelby releases me. “I’m happy you and Dex are here too, Jiggy.”
“Thank you, darlin’.”
She giggles at his attempted southern accent, then turns serious. “I mean it. I’m sure you have better things to do. And I know you hate the music. I don’t want to take advantage of—”
“Don’t sweat it, Shelby.” Jigsaw grips my shoulder gives me a shake. “I always got his back.” He shrugs. “Besides, hate’s a strong word. I never appreciated country music before.”
“Don’t let him fool you, Shelby,” Dex says. “He’s here to lure desperate girls into the shadows.”
“That’s hella creepy,” Shelby says.
“For a mutually pleasurable good time.” Jigsaw glares at Dex. “Stop making me sound like a serial killer.”
“Eh.” Dex wobbles his hand in the air and Jiggy smacks it away.
Greg returns in a calmer mood. He hands passes out to the four of us, then hands me two extras without comment.
“You guys can go check out the fair,” Shelby says.
I’m shaking my head before she even finishes the offer.
She curls her finger, inviting me to dip down closer. “I need to change and get my hair and makeup done. I assume your brothers won’t find that as entertaining as you do.”
She has a point.
“Seriously, go ahead,” she encourages. “I’d say bring me back some cotton candy but I can’t have the sugar before I go onstage.”
“Is there anything you do want?”
She casts a longing gaze toward the fairgrounds. “Nothing that’s good for me.”
I confirm the time of the meet and greet with Greg, then lean down and press a kiss to Shelby’s forehead. “Text me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Jigsaw asks as we’re leaving the music center. “Take a few spins on the merry-go-round?”
“I’m gonna spin you around with my fist if you keep running your mouth,” I threaten.
“So testy.” He shoves me to the side.
“Feel free to be the creepy adult on the rides by himself, Jiggy.” Dex points toward a row of brown shacks straight ahead. “I’m going to grab some Dinosaur Bar-B-Que.”
Jigsaw searches the line of food trucks. “Sparky said there should be a chicken and waffle pizza at one of these places.”
“Sounds like Sparky,” Dex says.
I clutch my stomach. “That’s disgusting.”
“Don’t go yucking someone’s yum.” Dex smacks me on the back.
“Whatever.”
As we shoulder our way through the crowd of fairgoers, one small white tent catches my attention. “Give me a minute. I’ll catch up.” I slap Dex’s shoulder to get his attention.
Unfortunately, they both follow me into the tent.
“Since when are you into all this hippie shit?” Jigsaw casts a look at the incense, candles, bells, soaps, scarves, tapestries, and embroidered wall-hangings. “This place looks like the inside of Sparky’s head.”
“Shut up.” My gaze lands on the jewelry case and I step up, not quite sure what I’m searching for.
“Can I help you?” a soft voice asks from behind a wall of scarves. A few seconds later, an older woman pushes her way through. She doesn’t even blink at the three giant bikers taking up all the available space in her little tent shop.
Shit, I don’t know what Shelby likes. She doesn’t even wear a lot of jewelry. “Do you have tarot cards?” No, that’s stupid. Shelby already has a deck of them. Does she need another one? I’d probably get the wrong kind.