It wasn’t until Heath showed me an article on his phone that I got why Hank was being an ass. It was a review in the Branson Ledger. And it wasn’t good.
Mountain View Theater is known for risky shows. Two years ago, Michael Reynolds brought in Gracin Ford and changed the face of Branson theater for the better. Last year’s show with Miley Michels was fresh, fun, and the up and coming popstar made the most of her win on “Talents to the Stars” by showcasing her extreme vocal range and fun-loving spirit.
Hank Walker’s show does none of that.
It’s stale and, quite frankly, a boring experiment. The band is fine and sharp, but even they look like the material is not worth rehashing. The backup singers do the same dance moves from Hank’s prime. And Hank’s voice has lost its edge. The grit is gone.
Save yourself the money and listen to one of his live albums instead. This year, the risk for Mountain View Theater was one not worth taking.
“Oh shit.” I stared at Heath.
He shrugged. “It’s not entirely wrong, you know. The music needs something fresh.”
“Do you think...” I didn’t want to finish the sentence.
“We’ll close?” Heath shook his head. “Nah, the shows sold out through June. We’ve got that long, but I doubt Mr. Reynolds will admit defeat. And I doubt Hank will either.”
“What do you think we should do?” I asked, staring at the one sentence about the backup singers.
“Us?” Heath snorted. “We get paid.”
He took his phone and moved across the dressing room. We get paid.
Dylan stepped into the room without his usual swagger. He glanced around until his gaze met mine. But he didn’t acknowledge me for more than a brief nod before he started talking to Mike. Sweat coated Dylan’s hair, flattening it against his head. His shirt was damp and clinging to his body.
“You’re being too obvious,” a smoky voice said beside me. I glanced up at Crystal. “He already knows you want him, so he’s going to play hard to get. Then when you finally get him, he’ll know he’s won.” She shrugged and sat down beside me. “It’s all a game for guys like him.”
“We’re just friends,” I said before slamming the rest of the water in my bottle.
“Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, kid.” She crossed her legs and leaned back into the chair. “If you ever take anyone’s advice, take mine on this. Guys like Dylan Walker don’t hang around, so don’t get hung up on him. When the show ends, he’ll be back to L.A. or New York or wherever his daddy goes. Branson will be nothing but a blip in his rear view mirror. And you’ll be nothing but a memory.”
I wanted to prove her wrong just for the sake of proving her wrong. But I couldn’t. One, Dylan made it clear nothing would happen between us. Two, she wasn’t wrong.
“You did great,” Dad said for the millionth time outside the theater. He’d wanted to see the show again. I had a feeling he’d see it as much as possible over the summer.
“It was alright,” Jake said, earning a smack upside the head from Mom.
“It was fantastic.” Mom had worked the breakfast and lunch rush so she could bring Dad again. She smiled at Jake who grinned back. “Your brother was singing along.”
“Thanks.” My face burned. It felt like forced praise. Or maybe that was just because of the review. Or maybe it was also because I heard the same thing from Miranda and Iris less than five minutes ago. Either way, it didn’t settle well. Dad was always going to tell me I was amazing. Mom would too, just to support Dad. I had a feeling Jake’s assessment was more honest.
I helped Mom get Dad in the car. Jake needed to do this more. I wasn’t going to be around forever. Just before I jumped in the backseat, someone shouted my name. I turned toward the voice.
Dylan waved then jogged up to us.
“Cam, Hank wants a post show meeting with everyone.”
“Now?” Mom asked.
Dylan nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He’s on a rampage. I’ll drive her home after he’s done yelling about everything.”
Mom glanced at me as I closed the door. “You sure you want to stay?”
I shrugged, because I really didn’t want to but I had to. Hank would sack me in a heartbeat if I didn’t. “I’ll be fine.”
Dylan stood beside me as I waved my family off. Once their taillights were out of sight, I turned to head back into the theater. Dylan grabbed my arm, steering me toward his car.
“What about the meeting?” I asked.
“I lied.” He grinned and unlocked his car. “Well, partially lied. Dad’s already half in the tank and on his way to the cabin with his security. You and I are going to have a ‘meeting’ about the show.” He put air quotes around meeting. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“What’re you really up to?” I asked with my hand on the door.
Dylan leaned against the roof of the car. “I need a break, Cam. Something other than Hank Walker, other than this show. I thought you might wanna just hang.”
“Okay,” I said, barely containing the smile. I could just hang with Dylan whenever he wanted. “Do you want to go to a party? It’ll be lame.”
Dylan grinned and raised his eyebrows. “A party, huh? Sounds like just what I need.”
“Even if it’s lame?” I opened the door and climbed inside.
“A party is a party is a party,” he said as he got in.
After a stop at a local liquor store, I directed him toward a cove ten minutes north of Branson. It wasn’t a touristy spot and it wasn’t a good fishing spot. The popular kids used it as a weekly place to drink and be stupid. Tonight, my graduating class planned on celebrating our freedom. Dylan parked along the side of the road.
“You ready
