Page 3 of Worth Your Wild

“The show starts in ten minutes.”

“Maybe bring a fan on stage to sing it with him. Could be cute.”

“Absolutely not,” Deke growls. “Last time I did that, she grabbed my junk.”

I roll my lips inward to stifle a laugh. I remember seeing the video. “Right.”

Deke raises a lazy eyebrow at me in the mirror. “That’s ain’t funny, June Bug.”

Oh God.

I hate it the way my belly warms.

Deke “Daddy” Decker just gave me a nickname.

“I don’t suppose you can sing, June?” Whit asks me, half joking.

“No,” I blurt. “I mean, not professionally. Just with my mother sometimes.” As always, when talking about my mom, who I love very much, I start to ramble. “She used to work a second job as a lounge singer in Austin, when I was growing up. Big country and blues fan. She named me after June Carter.” I smile. “Anyway, she says I take after her, but she’s just being nice. I don’t⁠—”

“We’re desperate,” Whit interrupts.

“No, we’re not,” Deke thunders back. “We’ll take the song off the set list.”

The manager’s expression is cajoling. “Sing us a few bars, June.”

No way.

This isn’t happening.

I am not about to sing in front of Deke Decker.

But Whit is sweating through his shirt, and he’s right, people are expecting Lorna Paul to be here tonight to sing the duet. This is going to be a letdown. Good thing I’ve been taking public speaking classes and learning methods for how to stay calm under pressure. They might only be an audience of two, but one of them is a shoo-in for the Hall of Fame.

“Okay…here we go…”

I close my eyes and sing Lorna’s part of the chorus. It’s a song written from the dual perspective of ex-lovers who blame each other for the downfall of their relationship. It’s harsh and sassy, but there’s an underlying sadness and vulnerability to Lorna’s side. It’s only eight bars, but my micro performance seems to stretch on forever, the notes hanging in the stale air of the dressing room.

When I open my eyes again, Deke is frowning at me in the mirror.

“You’re in,” Whit says, cupping my elbow and dragging me out of the dressing room. “Let’s get you into costume.”

TWO

Deke

The entire goddamn show, I’m just waiting for June to come out on stage.

And that pisses me the hell off.

I want her gone.

As soon as this show is over, she’s getting the boot. I don’t care if I have to escort her ass off the premises myself. There is no way she’s getting on that tour bus with me tonight and heading to the next stop. That will only be happening over my dead body.

My double vision mocks me as I strum into the seventh song.

Pretty close to dead as we speak, aren’t you, man?

That’s exactly what I feel like standing here in front of an audience of twenty thousand, although there are a few more empty seats than usual. I feel like a dead man walking. I’m watching myself play this song from the nosebleeds, numb to the cheers and screaming requests for me to play my biggest hit—“Worth Your Wild”.