“Will I do?”
“You’re gorgeous.” Hone kissed her gently on the lips.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Black trousers. A pale blue shirt with an open neck. Black boots. “Very sexy.”
Hone grinned. “You ready to rock ’n roll?”
Cassie picked up her guitar case. “Let’s do this.”
Crowds of people, male and female, young and old, queued at the gates, picnic blankets and rugs in hand.
Hone slowed at the carpark and wound down his window to speak to security. “We’re performing. Katie-Jo.”
“Right.” The man removed a barrier. “There is a parking spot reserved for you up there. Someone is waiting for you and will escort you to the stage. Are there more coming or is it just the two of you?”
“Just us,” Cassie said.
The man waved them through. Hone parked in a space marked with her name. An older man with long gray hair and wearing a white T-shirt advertising the Vineyard concerts straightened from his lean against a silver Nissan.
“I’ll get your guitar. You take care of the other stuff,” Hone suggested.
Cassie greeted the man with a handshake. “Hi, I’m Katie-Jo.” On the other side of the vehicle, she saw Hone’s quick surprise before he bent to retrieve their instruments. She grinned. She’d forgotten to remind him she played up her American accent while in her Katie-Jo role.
“Pleased to meet you,” the man said. “Charlie Blake. I spoke to your manager. We appreciate you filling in for us.”
“My pleasure,” Cassie said. “I’m looking forward to it. This is Hone Taniwha, my musician.”
The two men shook hands.
“I’ll show you around,” Charlie said. “You’re third on the card, right before our main act, The Geraughty Rock.”
“Thanks. I requested two tickets for my friends. They’re going to ask for them at the gate.”
Charlie consulted his clipboard. “Jack and Emma Sullivan. I have their name on the comps list.”
“Awesome.”
She was quietly impressed with their setup. The actual concert venue was a natural bowl set amongst the vineyards. Now that it was early evening, the heat of the day had dispersed and families, groups of friends and couples dotted the grassy area. Excited chatter and laughter floated on the air.
“You hungry?” Hone asked once Charlie left them alone in the employees’ lunchroom, which he’d commandeered for his performers. “I got the kitchen to pack us a sandwich.”
“I never eat before a show,” Cassie said, her fingers strumming chords. “You go ahead and eat if you’re hungry.”
“No, I’m good. Anything you need? Want a bottle of water?”
“Got one,” she said, indicating the bottle sitting beside her. Hone prowled the room and repeated his circuit, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. A realization slapped her over the head. “You’re nervous.”
“No. A bit.” He turned to her, scowled and his eyes glowed red. “Aren’t you?”
“A little. As soon as I start singing, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to play for me.”
“I want to share this part of your life with you.”
“Oh.” Warmth curled through her veins. “No one has ever said anything like that to me.”
“Your manager?”
She shrugged. “It’s his job. He doesn’t attend my concerts.”
