Irina skedaddled to prepare for her latest gig, and Courtney made the arrangements so Irina could fly in before the big Red Rocks concert that night. Then they’d load up and head to Cheyenne. One wouldn’t think that a town built on everything Chris LeDoux would embrace Dimefront. But given that tickets had sold out in a matter of moments, they would be wrong.
* * *
Red Rocks wasone of Courtney’s favorite venues. The band loved it here because it was in Denver. Brek, their previous manager, like to book the old tours through here, so it’d become one of their usual haunts. He’d stop in and see family whenever they came through.
The amphitheater was cut into the side of the mountain, and the place was gorgeous. A backdrop of literal red rocks everywhere. At night, when the bands played, the lights lit up the theater, the giant screen behind them projecting the live video. Thousands of fans streamed into the bench seats.
The whole event was something special. More than the usual Dimefront concerts, which were special in their own ways.
Red Rocks was magical on its own, but when you added the band?
Boom.
“He’s so dreamy with the haircut,” Irina said, totally committed to the French accent. If Courtney didn’t know she was from the Midwest, she’d totally buy it.
Baxwasdreamy with the haircut.
Courtney turned from watching the band onstage to her best friend.
Her best friend who had gone off the deep end.
“You’re here.” Courtney flung her arms around Irina. “And what the hell are you wearing?” Courtney was seriously regretting not taking the time to create an entire call sheet for Irina.
“You said I got to choose.” Irina struck a Material Girl pose. “I went funky-clunky.”
Funny thing, that description was entirely accurate. She wore clunky jewelry, and her dress was a multicolored, bold giraffe print A-line. With fake gemstone–encrusted flip-flops.
Courtney wasn’t judging the flip-flops—they were her preferred footwear too. Especially inside. But Red Rocks was outside, and it was spring, and Irina’s tootsies were gonna catch a chill.
“I figured I’d go with something I could wear after the gig.” Irina smoothed the dress.
Courtney had to give it to her—it was different, but it suited.
“Something French,” Irina added.
Irina’s style changed as often as her hair color.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, deflating a little. “I figured it looked very baby with the animal print.”
“It’s just not what I expected.” It worked though. A traveling birth guide could wear whatever a birth guide wished to wear. There was no uniform. If there was to be a uniform, they’d get to decide what it was. Since they made up the profession.
“You’re committed to your role, and I applaud that commitment,” Courtney added.
“I even made a name tag.” Irina produced the pin and attached it to her collar. She did a shimmy shake to show it off.
“Look at you. Nice.” That wasn’t even a homemade name tag. She probably had to go to Office Depot to get it.
“I’m going to be the best traveling birth guide who ever traveled.” Irina winked.
“You’re probably the only one.” Courtney loved that she was there. “So you get to set the standard.”
“Ha-cha-cha.”
As the boys played into the third song, Irina pulled out her cell and opened the notebook. “Tell me the details I’ll need to know so I can nag you without actually nagging,” Irina said.
“Bax is worked up about hydration.” Courtney crossed her arms. The timing of this nag wasn’t great, because Tiny Badass had hit a growth spurt and it was seriously causing bladder issues. The only thing that made them worse?
Drinking more water.
