Leanne muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously likeun-fucking-believable.
Nora blanched. She must’ve misheard that. Her mother didn’t curse. Her mother didn’t even abbreviate curse words. And Nora had definitely had a bar of soap in her mouth for saying less.
“What song?” Nora asked.
Joe launched into a verse, his voice unexpectedly rich—low and a little raspy, like he’d listened to too many Sam Cooke records.
Nora raised an eyebrow, trying for cool confidence even as her heart beat faster than Creedence Clearwater Revival’s drums. “Let me guess—your other ancestor was a famous musician?”
Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, yes. Why?”
Nora’s mouth fell open a little. “Seriously?”
Joe pressed a hand to his heart. “As a journalist, I have sworn not to lie in my reporting. But I also can’t confirm. If the family legends are true, my uncle was a blues guitarist from Memphis. Played backup for B.B. King once before he died.”
“Oh my God.” Nora glanced at her mom, who seemed to be breathing easier, then back at Joe. “You’re like a walkingRolling Stonearticle.”
“Flattery,” he said, flipping his collar up, “will get you far. Keep it coming.”
Leanne still hadn’t spoken. Nora watched her mother’s face, reality settling in. Eleanor hadn’t just come to a music festival. She’d performed. With Shep Moon. And had become, somehow, some way—the story.
If not for Joe, Nora might have been speechless too. And then he said, “She’s got an incredible story. I had a chance to speak to her briefly,” taking any remnants of words from her brain.
Time to tell Joe just who the Dame of Rock and Roll was.
Chapter Nineteen
Eleanor was backstage strumming a few chords one minute, laughing with the band, feeling light and almost…sprightly, like the girl she used to be.
The next moment, everything was bedlam.
Someone grabbed her by the arm, her shoes slapping against the grass as they rushed her out the back. She’d barely had a chance to pick up Roxy. The stadium loomed behind them, smoke curling into the sky like a question mark.
“Is there a fire?” Her breath caught, and she inhaled slowly through her nose, trying to calm her breathing and her sweet pup.
“No,” said one of the band members, peering over his shoulder. “Cops.”
“Cops?” Her voice went up in pitch. For the briefest paranoid second, she had the ridiculous thought that Leanne had called the police. Was it even possible that her daughter had somehow tracked her down and sent officers to drag her home like a runaway teenager?
No. The thought was shaken off before it could settle. Every step had felt careful—at least, that was the intention. From what she couldremember, she hadn’t left much of a trail, and she knew for certain she hadn’t told Leanne where she was going.
“Yeah, some folks were causing a scene.” He shrugged, unconcerned like riotous outbursts were as common as encore requests.
But it wasn’t usual for Eleanor. Her body started to shake as the sudden rush of adrenaline that had come from their performance drained away.
Concerts in her day had been mellow. Civilized. A sea of cigarette smoke, not tear gas. People dancing, not fistfighting. She’d been to jazz shows where the loudest noise came from a high hat. Now, the atmosphere outside the van buzzed with something else—something dangerous.
Megan whipped open the van door, and Eleanor filed inside with the rest of the band members. The van smelled like vinyl and the musk of the road and something more lived-in, like the feeling of freedom after a lifetime of restraint.
Shep sat beside Eleanor, wrapping a casual arm around her shoulders, steadying her. Almost instantly the shakes started to subside.
“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “Just the system pushing back. You were electric up there. You belong here.”
But Eleanor wasn’t sure anymore. Her fingers still tingled from the chords she’d played, but her heart thrummed with uncertainty.
Was this what she came for?
Eleanor’s gaze was pulled out the window, watching the throngs of people escaping. The van engine rumbled to life, exhaust fumes curling into the air behind them, and she wondered—had she brought herself to the edge of independence…or the end of something else entirely?
