“Well, that’s not what it looked like to the rest of the country.”
“I’m well aware how it looked.” The second half of his sentence came out in a husky falsetto. “We have bigger problems. Like the fact that Dee’s parents might be homeless, and…shit…you’d better cancel tonight’s show. I can’t sing in this condition.”
“Nothing doing,” Jack said. “We can’t afford to lose the money or the fans. The show must go on.”
Rodney rubbed his aching forehead. “Well, who’s going to sing?”
“I am.”
“Think we could get away with a lip sync?” Rodney asked, only half serious.
“Hell no. We’re not frauds,” Jack stated.
“It’s what you always wanted, isn’t it? To be me?” It was a cheap shot, but Rodney wasn’t feeling too friendly with his entire life washing away from beneath his feet.
“You told me you’d stopped seeing her. You have to end it,” Jack demanded. “Publicly. Our Twitter account is already blowing up with questions from the fans.”
Tell me something I don’t already know. Rodney hung up on him. Needing to collect himself, he slipped into the bathroom, stuffing his pocket with tissues from the dispenser.
“You’re sick,” Dee said, feeling his forehead after he walked out. “You should rest.”
He shook his head. “I’m going to head to the airport.”
The muffled roar of traffic from Route 70 must be making him restless.
“But your flight doesn’t leave for hours. You can’t perform anyway. Why not stay here?”
“I’m going to try to get an earlier flight,” he said, coughing again. “The band needs me after what happened. Maybe I can get some hot tea there with whiskey in it.”
“I could get that for you. A few places around here are open.”
He held up his hands. “I just need to get out of here, okay?”
“Away from me?” she asked quietly.
When Jeremy looked up from his magazine, shooting him a warning glare, Rodney remembered he wasn’t the kind of man he’d want as an enemy. Adele glanced at him, too, but her dark eyes looked more sad than angry. After spending last evening getting close to them, they already felt like family. More so than his own brother.
“Can we talk outside?” he asked Dee. She nodded and they stepped out the door.
“I hate leaving you like this,” he said.
“Then don’t.” She crossed her arms.
“Dee, you know I’m a celebrity and I have to tour. Our getaway would have been over today, anyway.”
“I know.” She looked down. “I guess I got used to having you around. I’m worried about my parents. They might be homeless even after the water recedes. The place might have to be gutted or torn down.”
“Do they have insurance?” he asked.
She cocked an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“I’ll help them,” he promised. “Just call me and tell me what it’ll cost.”
Until today, he had no idea helping people would make him feel so good. Trying to rescue the guy in the river had been an instinct. One he’d never had to use before. Jack had drilled fan counts and profits so deeply into his head, he didn’t know how to be any other way.
He’d rather spend his money on making someone comfortable than booze and lavish parties. In fact, he planned on making a donation to Wheeling to help the other flood victims, too.
Leave it to Dee to open his mind and his heart.
“I don’t want your lousy money,” she said, glaring at him. “Just go.”
“Dee. Don’t be like this.”
He moved toward her to hold her but stopped himself. They stood outside in a public place. He didn’t see any reporters, but with cell phones, practically everyone had a camera.
“Have a nice life, Rodney.” She smirked as she opened the motel room door.
“My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he said. “They never will.”
“Feelings aren’t enough anymore, are they? Have a safe flight and take care of your cold.”
“I will. Tell your parents goodbye for me.”
She nodded and slipped back into the room. The metallic scrape of the closing door made him feel ten times colder than he had in the river.
* * *
That evening in Ohio, Jack went onstage with the band. Having Rodney missing felt weird, like a gap from a missing tooth. You couldn’t help sticking your tongue in it over and over again. Excitement rippled through his blood as fast as lightning.
Tonight was his chance. Finally!
When the lights flashed on him for the opening song, though, he felt nervous enough to pee his jeans. Could he really pull this off and keep the fans happy?
But before they could start, the crowd chanted, “Rodney! Rodney!”
He made a signal to the band to hold up and grabbed the mic. “I’m sorry to say my brother is feeling under the weather and lost his voice.”
“Boo! Boo!”
Someone even threw an apple core on stage. Rage flooded him as he gestured to the band to start the song over. He wailed the hell out of his guitar on the intro, and when it was time for vocals, he sang.
He’d practiced all day and done the right things like drink tea with honey. At first, he tried to sound like Rodney, but it took so much effort he couldn’t focus on his guitar playing. Missed a note here. Another there.
The audience tossed a few more boos but, luckily, no more fruit. Finally, he said to hell with it and sang the way he wanted. More rough and hard than soft and bluesy. Damn if the fans didn’t wave their hands and clap.
Thank God. Although they could afford to lose the take from one night’s show, the fans might give up on them.
Halfway through the second song, though, his voice cracked in a few places from the strain he put on it. No wonder. He didn’t train it every day. So he eased up, even skipping some of the lines so he could get through it. The other guys played their hearts out, so no one seemed to mind.
