“Living on the Edge” comes to an end and Dolly has a huge grin on her face. “Well, be still my heart. I have bona fide rock stars in my little diner.”
“Would I be a complete dork if I asked to take a picture with you guys?” Brent asks.
“I don’t think there’s enough light in here,” Angus says regretfully. “But we can try.”
Brent comes around the counter and hands Summer the phone. “Will you take the picture?” he asks.
“Wait, I wanna be in it!” Dolly rushes in as we crowd around Brent.
“I think the flash’ll work,” Brent says to Summer.
“I’m on it,” she says patiently. She pushes a few buttons on the phone and holds it up. She takes a few vertical pictures and then turns the phone to take some horizontally.
“They’re not great,” she says when she’s done. “But they’re not terrible.”
Brent and Dolly start asking us a bunch of questions, but I go back behind the counter next to Summer. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to shirk my duties.”
“I didn’t realize you were… famous,” she says softly.
“I don’t know about famous,” I say carefully. “Our first album is doing well, but we can’t break the top twenty on Billboard with any singles.”
“The fact that you’re even on the Billboard charts is impressive,” she says. “And I can’t believe you guys spent the night bussing tables and rolling silverware with me.”
“I’m just a regular guy,” I respond. “Who happens to play a little guitar.”
“Based on that video I just watched, you play more than just a little guitar.”
“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” I admit. “But rock and roll isn’t an easy path.”
“I don’t imagine anything in show business is easy.”
“And I don’t imagine waiting tables at a busy truck stop is either.”
She smiles. “Not usually, no.”
I stare down into her pretty face and really hate that I can’t kiss her. “You know how many times I would’ve kissed you tonight if you weren’t working?”
“How many?”
“Seven,” I reply immediately, even though it’s just the first number that came to mind.
“Well, if you play your cards right you might get a chance. Did you say you had plans for your day off?”
“I did not.” I cock my head. “Is there an invitation in there?”
“Well, if you wanted to make plans with me, there’s half of a chocolate peanut butter pie in my fridge, and I have a really comfortable bed.”
Yup, this is going where I think it is.
Fuck, yeah.
If a new bus shows up in the next couple of hours, I’ll find my own way to Montreal.
“Tate.” Angus’s deep voice breaks the spell, and I turn in annoyance.
“What’s up?”
“Just heard from Sasha,” he says. Sasha Petrov is our manager. “She’s sending a car to pick us up in about an hour and she got us reservations at the Glens Falls Marriott.”
