Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Pyrotechnics go off on stage, and Jazmyn throws her hands wide, letting them frame her, and then she joins the dance too as the band plays a repeat of the verse and chorus.
It’s amazing. And I have Jayme to thank for it.
Other people too, obviously, but she’s the one who came up with this idea, and it is absolutely going to be the savior of Americana Land’s image. I’m watching as we become relevant to a whole new generation right before my eyes. Even our existing line-up of concerts will benefit from what we’ve learned doing this festival. And it’s all because Jayme had a crazy idea and the guts to push me out of my comfort zone.
Gamble on yourself, your team, on me.
I did, and it’s paying off in more ways than I could’ve dreamed.
Jazmyn plays a few more songs, the lights, fog machine, and effects accompanying her, but I’ve honestly stopped paying attention. All I can focus on is the woman at my side. I step in front of Jayme, blocking her view of the show, and she looks up at me with a question in her eyes.
“Thank you,” I say, trusting that she’ll hear me before I cup her jaw in my hands and kiss her. She gasps in surprise, and I take the kiss deeper, wanting to tell her through my actions how much I appreciate her and what I’m feeling. Her hands press to my chest as she lifts to her toes and leans into me for more.
“Ooh, bitch. Yes ma’am, getcha sum,” Taya calls from somewhere to my left. She’s been dancing along with Jazmyn’s show too, though her dancing is more stomping and attitude than complicated footwork.
I’m not sure if she’s talking to Jazmyn onstage or to Jayme about me. Either way, I press one more kiss to Jayme’s soft lips. When I pull back, she’s smiling happily.
“You’re welcome,” she answers. “And I liked that. A lot.”
The show finishes, and Jazmyn runs off stage, panting and beaming. She hugs Toni and Kyleigh, the three of them chattering over one another.
“You were amazing!”
“So were you!”
“Oh, my God!”
I honestly don’t know who said what. It blends together into one high-pitched squeal that makes me inordinately happy. Finally, I’m able to get their attention.
“Thank you, Jazmyn. That was a great show. And Toni, that was awesome! I haven’t seen you dance in a while. In my head, I guess you’re always the Sugar Plum Fairy, but you slayed that.” The reminder of one of her most hated roles from her childhood ballet days is a brotherly tease, and she flips me off before laughing. “I told you that you could do better than some dude named Topper. You’re a certifiable backup dancer now, on tour with The Jazmyn Starr.”
I give her a silly wink, thinking she’ll keep laughing. But instead, she grimaces.
“Who’s Topper?” Jazmyn asks, scenting gossip.
“Uh, the guy I’m dating,” Toni answers shyly.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “What? I thought you broke up? You said he was stupid.”
Toni gives me a withering death glare and a healthy dose of attitude. “Because he hadn’t realized that he liked me yet. But now he has, and we’re dating.”
I am so confused. It must show on my face because Jayme pats my arm comfortingly. “She’s a teenager, Carson. Take it from me, a teen girl’s heart is like the autumn wind.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Taya asks, giving voice to the same thing I’m thinking, but when Jayme gives her an eyebrow, she nods. “Oh . . . yeah. Autumn wind . . . pumpkin spice . . . changing minds.”
Before I can get clarification, Spencer interrupts, done with the foolishness. “Everyone, the roadies need to begin the teardown or we’ll be here till sunrise, and I, for one, have plans tomorrow, so let’s get to it. Snap, snap.”
She claps her hands, and around us, people start moving. She’s definitely the boss right now.
“What are you doing tomorrow? Or, uh, today, I guess?” I ask her curiously. It’s late, well after midnight, and the whole park is closed except for the Great Garden. It’d been a perfect way to corral everyone toward the front gates for the last big show and then funnel them out.
“Sleeping,” is Spencer’s dry reply. “And drinking a bottle of white wine by myself on the back porch with a delivered dinner of carbs and cheese.”
That actually sounds amazing.
“You deserve it. Hell, take Monday off if you need to,” I tell her. “Both you and Kyleigh.”
“Not sure that’s a good idea,” a flat voice behind me says. Dad.
I turn, already on edge. “I’m fine managing my people’s work schedules and approving PTO without your input, Dad.”
Dad’s eyes narrow, giving me a hard glare. “I meant that it’s typical to do a post-project review as soon as possible.”