Page 91 of Down Beat

Jesus—guy really does have my balls in a vise. “House arrest, then?”

“Pretty much.”

Kitty slides her hand in mine as we trail behind Rick to the car. His shitty little rental sits squeezed in between two hatchbacks that look like fucking SUVs in comparison.

“This all they have?” I ask as he jams her bags in the back.

His brow pinches while he takes two attempts to shut the trunk. “You aren’t the only one with a new budget.”

Fucking Wallace.

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you take a cab,” he levels as he opens the passenger door for Tabby. “Ladies up front.”

Only for her. Anybody else, and I’d kick up a stink about being relegated to the back. But for Tabby I’ll let it slide.

“The guys are already at rehearsal,” Rick explains as we all pile in. “They wanted to get a head start on things.”

“Why?” Fuck me—seriously, my knees are up around my goddamn ears.

Rick tosses a glare my way in the rearview before he pulls out of the parking space. “They wanted to have a backup plan in case you didn’t show.”

“I’ve never missed a performance until now.”

“You’ve also never skipped out without notice to fly halfway across the country on a whim.” He smiles at Tabby. “No offense, Tabitha.”

“None taken,” she murmurs.

I twist to lie down on the back seat while Rick drives. I know I said I’m not that much of a big deal, but that doesn’t mean I’m not well known enough that any paps lingering around the place wouldn’t have a field day with the possibilities behind why I’m in the back seat of a fucking micro-car while my manager drives the girl who played at our impromptu show around.

“Tell me when we get to the hotel, okay? I’m going to catch a few while I’m hiding down here.”

“Sure,” Rick mumbles.

Kitty spins in her seat to give me a soft smile. “Hard life, huh?”

“You wouldn’t know the fucking half of it.”