Page 113 of Just Wait

“Understood…” Mr. Hawthorne asks a few more questions, and we disconnect.

My hands shake as I drop my phone on the nightstand next to Kincaid’s.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod, then shake my head. “Forty grand per song? That’s like as much as I made a year bartending thirty-five hours a week.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, the numbers can get pretty unreal, but you deserve to be paid for your hard work.”

I blink incredulously.

It wasn’t even hard.

Making music is fun.

It doesn’t feel like a real job, and I have trouble believing it ever would.

“It’s not even ten,” Kincaid says, patting my thigh. “Why don’t you lie with me, and we can get a few more hours of sleep? I’ve got an alarm set.”

I nod, and he lifts me, putting me near the middle of the bed.

“I have a weird thing about needing to be closest to the door,” he says, pulling the comforter over me as I get settled against the pillows. “If you roll over, I’ll cuddle up behind you like I did the other night.”

I flop like a fish, trying to get into place, and Kincaid chuckles a low, sexy sound.

It’s that whole I’m in over my head thing all over again.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kincaid

The four of us see the nurse practitioner, which makes us late for practice. Normally this wouldn’t be an end-of-the-world type of problem, but Parish and Tennyson are at each other’s throats over Wren. Leaving the two of them alone for any period of time is dangerous.

I don’t know how that’s going to play out after her brother leaves tonight, but that’s a problem for later. We hit our practice and shower at the venue, but before we even make it into the greenroom, Benji meets us in the hallway.

“What’s up?” I ask as Malcolm and I come to a stop.

“Just a reminder that we leave after the show tomorrow night,” Benji says calmly.

I nod, and my entire being feels lighter. I was concerned that something popped up about Lumen.

“Wait, I thought we got to stay in the hotel for three nights,” Malcolm says, pulling his hand up and counting off his fingers.

I snort.

“You arrived, had a free night, then the night following the first show, and tonight will be your third night in the hotel.” Benji raises an eyebrow.

“You’re saying we need to be packed and ready to not return to the hotel when we come to the venue tomorrow?” I ask to clarify if that’s his point.

“Correct,” Benji says. “We leave after the show tomorrow night. The night after that is a club promotional package in Myrtle Beach. A mini set of three songs, sign some autographs, and stick around to party with the fans. We won’t be staying in Myrtle Beach afterward. We leave for North Carolina immediately after the club promo.”

It still boggles my mind that we didn’t go from Charleston up the coast to Myrtle Beach and then over to Columbia, but this entire circuit is held together with duct tape, a prayer, and none of the geographical logic that a standard tour would have.

“Got it,” I tell Benji. “I’ll make sure everyone knows the details.”

“Thanks.” He spins around, taking off down the hallway.

Mal tries to follow, but I plant a hand on his chest, holding him back.