In the middle of one of their latest songs, Rodney excused himself, raising the phone to his ear as he rushed down the hall. Jack snapped his fingers. His brother had a woman. A secret one. His strange behavior in San Jose finally made sense. He had had sex in his hotel room.
His stomach dropped when he guessed who the mystery woman probably was. Well, he intended to stop whatever they’d started dead in its tracks. But, first, he needed proof.
He hoped to hell he was wrong.
“Hey, Mitch,” he said to the bass guitarist. “Your guitar sounds a little off.”
“But I just tuned it.”
“Maybe it’s my ears.” He pulled an earlobe for effect. “Do me a favor. When Rodney gets back in here, do a sound check with his vocals. Later, we’ll do a full one with the whole band.”
“Sorry,” Rodney said as he rushed back in.
“Everything okay?” Jack asked.
His brother tucked his hair behind his ear. “Yeah. Some fan got my number, so I chewed the fat with him for a bit.”
Mitch rose from his stool. “Jack wants us to do a sound check with each other.”
“Why? Your guitar sounds fine to me.”
“Reassure me,” Jack said. “Milwaukee is an important town for us. We need more fans in the north.”
“Fine.”
And while the two men stood together, Rodney’s head bent in concentration, Jack swiped the cell phone from his back pocket and hid it under his arm.
“Sorry, man,” he said, pretending he’d bumped into him.
He left the room, hoping Rodney hadn’t changed his password from diXie. In the hall, he tapped the screen and grinned as his brother’s secrets unlocked. He cruised through text messaging and email, his eyebrows climbing to the top of his head as he read one love note after another.
Then he found the proof he needed—pictures. Smiling selfies and even a provocative one of her in nothing but a black bra and panties. It was her, all right. His brother had a thing going with the very woman who could destroy Breeze. Well, not for long.
When he returned to the rehearsal area, the guys were finishing their sound check. Rodney made the thumbs-up sign.
“I told you my guitar sounded fine,” Mitch grumbled.
Then Rodney frowned as he reached for his back pocket. “Hey, my phone is missing.”
Jack held it up. “Don’t worry. Your girlfriend didn’t text you while it was gone.”
“Girlfriend?” Cliff, the drummer asked. “Who is she?”
Rodney snatched his phone back and pocketed it. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Your phone says otherwise,” Jack retorted.
“Who I see is none of your business.”
“Anything affecting the band is my business. Our business.” Jack pointed a finger at him. “End it, or I will.”
“Hey, what’s the big deal?” Cliff argued. “It’s not like he’s married.”
Like him? Jack rocked on his heels, wondering how much he should tell the others. He could use a little help keeping his brother in line. After all, his actions affected each of them.
“She’s black,” he blurted out. “The one he rescued at that statue rally.”
“What?” Mitch almost dropped his guitar. “Some of our fans would shit a brick if they found out.”
“How can we wave the Confederate flag at our concerts, if—” Cliff asked.
“I have a feeling Rodney will figure that out real quick,” Jack said in a quiet voice.
And if he didn’t, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of the woman himself.
* * *
Dee called Rodney after work and left another message. Why hadn’t he returned any of her calls, emails, or texts in the past couple of days? Ted’s negative comment about long-distance relationships haunted her.
“I haven’t got time for this,” she muttered to herself as she popped a frozen chicken dinner into the microwave.
She eyed the pile of casework on her coffee table. It would be a long night. Unfortunately, worrying about Rodney would break her concentration. They’d been in contact every day since their relationship had begun. Sometimes, he couldn’t call her until after midnight, so she kept the phone by her bed.
When the microwave timer chimed, she removed the dinner and stirred around the steaming lumps of chicken with a fork. If it was over, he needed to tell her so. Until then, she’d assume everything was fine.
Not ready to face her work pile yet, she perused her news feed in Facebook. Unable to stop herself, she clicked on the band’s group page. The most recent picture on top showed Rodney with his arm around some white girl with long red hair.
WTF?
After eating half the dinner and chucking the rest in the trash, she picked up her phone again and sent a text.
If it’s over, have the courtesy to tell me.
Maybe she should go to the opera with Ted, after all. They had a lot more in common, and he probably wouldn’t break her heart.
After doing a couple of hours of work, she crawled into bed, leaving the cell phone on her nightstand again. Sleep eluded her as she lay on her back, open-eyed and staring at the moon outside her window.
When the phone rang, her body jolted.
“Dee?”
As it always did, Rodney’s soft, Southern voice washed over her, transporting her far away from the corporate world. Tonight, it made her forget her angst. At least for a few seconds.
“Where have you been?” She sat up in bed. “No, don’t answer that. I saw whose arms you’ve been in.”
“It was just a publicity picture.”
“To publicize what?” she snapped. “To tell the world who you’re sleeping with tonight?”
“Dee, we’ve been over the groupie subject and how you don’t have to worry.”
“Well, if you hadn’t ignored my calls the last few days, I wouldn’t have so much to worry about, would I?”
She hated sounded like a shrew but didn’t appreciate being blown off.
“The band had some transportation issues, and Jack hasn’t given
