“You, too,” Lily said, and started to turn, but then Chelsea grabbed her forearm.
“Hold on, hold on.” She was staring in alarm at her phone, which she then showed to Lily.
Garrett: Minor fender bender outside the station—all good. I’m fine.
Lily’s brows shot up. “He had an accident?”
Chelsea tapped his face on her screen and put the phone on speaker as it rang on the other end.
Garrett picked up with the words, “Hello, hon. I told you I was fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Well, hold up a second then.”
Ellipse dots did their teasing dance and were then followed by a seconds-long video of Garrett with his arms out at his sides, turning in a full circle, to show himself unscathed while someone else apparently held his phone.
Lily laughed softly.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “What happened?”
“Ah, I had a brain fart. Backed right into the mailbox outside the station.”
“The mailbox?” Chelsea looked at Lily, frowning.
“Yeah. Before the morning pick-up, too. Mail everywhere. I gathered it up, though. Hope nothin’ got lost. Gotta go. Love you, babe.”
“You hope nothing got lost,” Chelsea repeated.
“Nothin’ to worry about,” Garrett went on. “Back bumper’s scraped up, is all. I’ll be home for lunch, and I’m buyin’, okay?”
“Okay. Love you.” She hung up. Then she smiled and met Lily’s eyes. “Sorry to hold you up, like that. Scared the crap outta me for a minute.”
“I’m glad he’s okay. Are you sure you are? Accidents are scary.”
“Oh, I’m not sure that was an accident,” Chelsea said. “And I’m pretty sure something did get lost in all the spilled mail.”
And the light dawned. “Willow’s paint sample?”
Chelsea shrugged, eyebrows high, but yeah, that was clearly what she thought.
“Go on, now get busy. You have a lot on your plate.”
Chapter Fifteen
“This ain’t no honky-tonk,” Ethan said when Ang finally came in through the dressing room door with his name on it. Sure, it was just printed on a piece of paper in a frame where you slid in a fresh sheet with every new performer, but he’d never had his name on a dressing room door before in any form. So far this trip, it had been on dang near all of ‘em, and every venue a little bigger than the one before. But none had been what this one was. “This a full-blown concert hall, Ang.”
“Not a very big one, though,” Angelo said. Then he waggled a finger. “Not yet.” He closed the dressing room door behind him and took a look around inside, nodding in approval.
“Looks big to me,” Ethan said.
“Meh, three-thousand, give or take. You ready? They sent me to tell you two minutes, and it’s already been one.”
“Three thousand?”
Someone knocked, then a voice called, “Ready for you on stage, Mr. Brand. Sold-out crowd.”
Ang pulled out his phone tapped a button, and said, “Note to self. Three-k sold out. Upsize the venues.”
