FUEL (DirtSlap Series Book 1) (19 page)

“No, mom. I’m not.”

“What?” Camellia’s screech had her pulling the phone away from her ear. “Yes you are. You’re getting married remember?”

Shelby slumped in a chair and rubbed her head. “I need to go through Gran’s stuff. It’s important.”

“What’s important is your wedding,” Camellia said, her voice cutting. “I didn’t go through all the trouble of finding you a fiancé just so you’d be off wallowing in that god awful city. You will come home Shelby Renner.”

“How about this. You plan it. You’ll do a much better job than me. I’ll be there when I need to be.” Even if Shelby were there, she wouldn’t get a say in anything anyway. Maybe this way she could get her mother off her back. Because telling her how important Gran’s home was to her wouldn’t make a difference.

“Oh, that’s brilliant, darling. You are so right. You have no taste for these sort of things. It will be spectacular!”

“Sure. I’ll call again soon. Bye.”

Shelby hung up and tears stung her eyes. What a farce.

How could her mother push her buttons from hundreds of miles away? It showed just how pathetic she was. She rubbed at the pain between her eyes.

Shelby eyed a porcelain calico cat. “Sorry about that, Ginger. Hopefully, I won’t have to talk to her again anytime soon.”

She reached into the hutch and picked up the figurine. Its tiny eyes stared up at her, its little paw raised as though asking for something. This one had been Gran’s favorite and she had heard many one-sided conversations between them. Tears blurred her vision.

“I miss her too,” she said quietly and put it back in the hutch. “If I’m staying here, I need a job.”

She sighed and shook her head. No way in blazes was she asking her mom for money.

Shelby’s feet hurt and securing a job in downtown Nashville looked grim. Every place she went took one look at her, heard her Texas accent and automatically assumed she was here to sing. Telling them she wanted a waitressing job just got her laughed at. They would sweep her from head to toe and say, “Sure, honey.”

By the time she reached a place called Booseys, she squared her shoulders and marched to the bar. Tall and lean with a scraggly goatee, the bartender looked down at her. She paused. Although she had gotten over the initial shock of the type of people who ran bars, this guy looked more unsavory than the rest.

“What you drinking, doll?”

“Nothing. I want a job—”

“Not hiring,” he interrupted before turning his back on her.

Heat hit her cheeks at the condescending tone.

“I don’t want to sing. I can’t sing a lick even if I wanted to.” Her words came out in a rush but he kept walking away. “I’m only here because my grandmother died. I need a job. I sure as heck don’t want to ask my mother for money.”

She clamped a hand over her mouth. Her emotions got the best of her, again. Stuff she should keep to herself always tumbled out. Sick with embarrassment, she spun on her heel to leave as quickly as possible. She didn’t want to hear his laugh, or worse, see his pity.

“Doll, hold up.”

She stopped just short of the exit.

“Turns out, we have a gig tomorrow night. A new band, I think it’s gonna be hopping. Can you handle a crowd?”

She turned around hesitantly and took two steps to peer into his face. Was he serious? He had flung a towel over his shoulder and eyed her speculatively. No humor, no pity, just a question.

“I worked at a restaurant near a college campus in Houston. It got busy.”

He paused for a moment, then nodded. “We can try it tomorrow night, see how it goes. I’m Mick, owner of the place.”

She offered a tentative smile and shook his hand. “Shelby.”

“Lila,” Mick shouted and a tiny little red head skipped over to the counter. He motioned to Shelby. “She’s your new coworker, at least for tomorrow night.”

“Terrific!” Lila turned an impish smile at her, slid so they bumped elbows, then faced Mick. “What’s her name?”

“Shelby, and don’t scare her off. I gotta take care of some paperwork so I’ll send Angel out.”

“How can little ol’ me scare anyone?” The girl’s bright blue eyes—beautiful in an odd creepy way—widened innocently.

Mick snorted in reply as he walked off.

“Bad ass name. I love those cars.” Lila nodded. “So where you from?”

“Texas.” She hated when people made reference to her name. The car was cool. Being conceived in the backseat of one when your mom was sixteen wasn’t.

Lila laughed. “Of course you are. That accent is almost as bad as a Tennessee or Georgia one.”

Another small girl, with short, cropped, black hair came out of the back. She laid a shirt in front of her. Her porcelain skin made her storm-blue eyes stand out in her tiny face. “Mick said we have another waitress.”

Lila didn’t seem to notice the girl’s cool demeanor. “This is Shelby, Angel. She’s gonna help out tomorrow night.”

“Of course. Be here at six.” Angel frowned, narrowed her eyes and looked her up and down. With that the girl turned to bartend for the next customer.

“Is she my boss?” Shelby asked quietly. If so, she didn’t think she’d work here long.

“No. Don’t worry about her. She’s just pissy about Thrand.”

Angel’s eyes swung towards them and narrowed.

“Don’t look at me like that, Angel. You know damn well he was never into you.”

Angel didn’t respond, but her pale face turned pink.

“She’s Mick’s daughter. Anyway, I can’t wait to work with you. Should be awesome. I better get back to it. See you tomorrow.” With a waggle of her fingers she was off helping customers.

Shelby watched for a little while so she could get a feel for what was expected. It didn’t look too hard. Take orders, place them at the bar, then deliver the drinks. Pretty simple.

It also gave her a minute to glance around the place. A small raised stage sat at the back. Tables and chairs were scattered here and there and the bar ran down the left side. Music played from the overhead speakers, but a band was setting up on the stage.

Hopefully, she would be able to keep up tomorrow night. She did
not
want to job hunt again.

The next night, she strode down Broadway. Memories of her and Gran walking along this very street lingered in her mind. She could hear Gran’s voice telling her story after story of all the places that lined the famous strip. Gran grew up in Nashville so she knew everything there was to know. Or so it seemed to her as a child. Time had changed some things, but a lot had remained the same. Tootsies was still there with its neon sign and the Ryman was still around the corner. And Saturday nights were still non-stop and jammed with people on the sidewalks.

Booseys was just one in a long line of honky-tonks ready to serve up a drink and a country swagger. But she looked forward to doing something other than trying to make sense of Gran’s dusty old belongings. Even if she did have to work.

Bouncers were in front of every bar, but she hesitated at the sight of the guy sitting at the door to Booseys. He was a heavyset man decked out in black leather with unruly hair and a beard. Thick heavy rings finished off his scary appearance. He made Mick look tame. He locked eyes with her.

“Shelby!” His booming voice made her jump. “I heard there was a new girl. No worries, doll.” He chuckled and patted her hand. “I’m only scary to those who deserve it. I’m Dooley, by the way.”

She wanted to ask how he knew her and then realized it was the Booseys shirt she was wearing. She managed a tentative smile and nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“Let me guess. Texas, right?”

“I never knew I had such an obvious accent.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. She wished she didn’t have a Texas accent. She would rather have lived her life with Gran. Perfectly content with a Tennessee one.

“You’re a sweet one. But don’t worry, hun. I don’t bite.” The twinkle in his eyes had her blushing. He squeezed her hand in reassurance, like he knew she needed it. “You have any trouble at all, just hunt me or Mick up. Got a feeling it’s gonna be busier than usual.”

“Thanks, Dooley.” She turned and walked into the bar.

She glanced at the stage and stopped. The band setting up appeared to be anything but country. The singer was huge, sported black, mussed, spiky hair and tattoos that covered both arms from shoulder to wrist. He wore nothing but black, the gauges in his ears and a lip ring.

The rest of the band didn’t seem very country either. The drummer wore a black cap on backwards, with gauges. The other two looked normal. Sort of. One wore rumpled clothes and had messy sandy blond hair—like he just rolled out of bed. The other had shaggy hair that hid his face. She glanced at the crowd full of cowboy hats and saw more than one scowl directed toward band.

She understood their confusion.

She spotted Lila waving at her, strode to the bar and picked up an apron.

Lila introduced Cassie, the girl standing next to her. She was stunning with long honeyed locks and a tall, curvy body. The girls were huddled together and the stark difference in their looks had heads turning their way.

The band, Cassie informed her, was called DirtSlap—Ethan, the lead singer, Zak, the bassist, Ryan, the guitarist and Thrand, the drummer. Country with a little dirt, she was told.

“You know a lot about the band,” Shelby said to Cassie.

Lila sniggered. “She would. She’s banging the drummer.”

Cassie rolled her eyes and a blush hit her cheeks.

“You work here?” Shelby asked.

“Yeah, but I’m taking pictures tonight.” She patted her camera bag. “Lila is the best. If you have any questions let her know.”

“Thanks. I will.”

Cassie walked to the stage, knelt in front of Ethan and snapped a picture.

Shelby tied off her apron and paused, fascinated by Ethan. He wasn’t cute really—just different. Used to private schools, people who reeked of money and dressed the part, she was unaccustomed to people who looked like him—they didn’t exist in her world. He wouldn’t even be accepted in her circle. But very few people she’d met this week would.

She’d seen her fair share of boots and hats, she was from Texas after all, but it was all country club scene. Not the rough and tumble type who worked hard enough to get dirt on their jeans. She worried her lower lip. Her perspective was shifting. Was her life in Houston even real?

Shelby got to work filling orders. It was comparable to the college crowd on a Saturday night, until DirtSlap started playing. Until Ethan started singing.

Struck dumb, she stopped what she was doing and stared at him. Goosebumps spread over her skin. His voice was smooth, yet edgy. A Georgian accent with a hard rock vibe. Country with a little dirt. A very apt way of describing them.

He held a mic, stood feet planted wide and dominated the small stage. The crowd went silent. The band started their gig with popular country songs. They sounded nothing like the originals…DirtSlap made them their own.

She forced herself to get back to the task at hand, which was delivering drinks. It wasn’t like she was a music junkie. She’d only been to a handful of concerts in her entire life. All of which were country, in the strictest sense of the word, but seeing a guy who looked like Ethan croon a George Strait song was hypnotic.

It took all of about five songs before the place was so packed, she could barely move. She wasn’t claustrophobic but even she was overwhelmed.

“Welcome to Booseys, ya’ll,” Ethan said into the mic. He pointed to each band member. “This is Ryan on guitar, Zak on bass, and the man behind the madness, Thrand on drums. I’m Ethan and we are DirtSlap.” He grinned when some very girly screams echoed throughout the bar. “Be patient with the staff, ya’ll. We weren’t expecting this kind of crowd. But thanks for coming. Hope you like this next one. It’s an original.”

Shelby didn’t realize she stared until an arm curled around hers. She looked down to see Lila’s smiling face. “Told you. Amazing aren’t they?”

Shelby nodded and wondered which one of the guys Lila was in love, or lust, with…whichever the case may be. By the look on her face, the girl crushed on at least one of them.

Although heavier than the covers, their original song still sounded country. The lyrics told a story about dirt roads and pick-up trucks, but it really showcased Ethan’s voice as he let a little screamo escape now and then.

Lila sighed. “Guess we better get this crowd handled.”

With only four waitresses working the floor, they were undermanned and outnumbered, but Shelby did her best she to keep up with demand. She served a group of guys in the corner of the bar and ignored their taunts and rude comments. By the second time she passed them, one of the guys snagged her arm.

“Why don’t you sit here and keep me company, sweet thing.”

She looked up into his glassy eyes and shook her head. “Working, sorry.”

The group of four laughed when she tried to pull away from the guy’s grasp.

“You need to let me go,” she demanded. Yelling wouldn’t do any good in this madness.

He tugged so she had no choice but to fall against him. “See? I knew you wanted it.”

She attempted to jerk free, but the drunken guy clamped his arm firmly around her waist. Frantic, she looked for Mick, but he was on the other side of the crowded room and couldn’t see her.

“Let me go!” She elbowed the guy in the ribs hard enough she almost got loose, but not quite. The other guys laughed again and egged him on. Her throat constricted when his hand squeezed her ass.

A strong arm fell over her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. Pressed firmly against a very large, firm body, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Mick.

She craned her neck up.

It wasn’t Mick.

Ethan was bigger up close. His dark shades hung in the neck of his sleeveless tee revealing his eyes. Bottomless black pools, accentuated by black eyeliner stared into hers. He gave her a wink a moment before his mouth landed on hers.

His lip ring was a hard contrast to her warm lips. Stunned, all she could do was gasp. His tongue swept against hers, and she shivered at the shocking metal bar of his tongue piercing. The tray she’d been holding like a weapon fell heedlessly to the floor.