Page 75 of In This Together

Accepting his moment of no doubt fleeting kindness towards her, Rosalie took Seth’s hand and let him lead her into the house, upstairs to his bedroom.

‘Here, try these,’ he said, handing her a pair of jogging bottoms and a hooded sweater. ‘Not quite your usual glamour but better for stains, I think.’

Rosalie took the clothes. ‘Thank you.’

He nodded, staring at her but not speaking.

Inhaling deeply, she took the opportunity to ask him, ‘Seth, why do you hate me?’

He folded his arms across his chest, biceps and pecs bulging. ‘I don’t hate you, Ros. I’ve just known girls like you and that hasn’t worked out well for me.’

She stepped back and sat down onto the edge of his bed. ‘Tell me?’

He shrugged. ‘I was engaged once. To a girl called Connie. And she was a heck of a lot like you. Shoes, clothes, spending all the time. Trying to buy her way out of problems.’ He stepped back, leaning against the bedroom wall, a sign Rosalie took to mean he was going to open up to her.

‘When I was younger. Before I enlisted, and then when I was on leave, I used to go to a lot of Armstrung’sgigs, with my brother and the guys. They always had groupies around, you know? Anyway, then there was Connie and she took an interest in me. I fell for it.

‘It’s kind of hard to believe now but I thought she was… the one. Right before I went away on my first tour of Afghanistan, I proposed and she said yes. That was it for me, you know; the house, the family, the rest of our lives.’

‘What happened?’

‘Whilst I was away, I got a letter telling me she’d found someone else. Turned out to be another musician. She sent it to me with an extortionately priced jacket, as some kind of conciliation prize.’ He shook his head again. ‘I think she only ever wanted to get closer to my brother and the band, looking back.’

‘And that’s why you don’t want to be associated with Randy?’

Seth shook his head, moving off the wall and letting her know he was about done talking. ‘Randy and I chose different paths, and I want to make my own way. It’s not to do with Connie.’

‘But not liking me is?’

He didn’t reply.

‘I’m not like that, you know, Seth. I do have substance. I’m sorry that someone did that to you but you shouldn’t let it colour your view of people before you take the chance to get to know them.’

He stared at her, then nodded but didn’t seem convinced. ‘See you outside.’

‘Thanks again for the clothes.’

* * *

Rosalie stood to the side of the stage and watched Seth jog into position, picking up his acoustic guitar and pulling the strap over his head as he went. There was an incredible crowd, given the time of day – late afternoon – and that Seth was still relatively unknown, despite his first single having been an airplay chart hit.

Her heart swelled with inexplainable pride as she watched the crowd cheer, eagerly anticipating this hot new artist’s set at the CMAs. Like he had done at the Presley John concert, Seth took a moment to absorb the venue and the crowd. It was a wonder he could see with the combination of the late afternoon sun shining directly onto the stage and the overhead lights on full beam.

He took a seat on the stool positioned before his microphone, exactly where he had sat the day before for his sound check, and Rosalie watched as he took a deep breath. But he didn’t look nervous; he looked every bit a star. Black shades shielded his eyes. He wore the pair of jeans that he had worn the night of the Presley John concert – much fancier than his usual stonewashed pair and slightly fitted, just enough to hug his butt and thighs – and a plain khaki-coloured fitted T-shirt, with his signature dog tags hanging down his chest. What she had once thought were a teenage boy accessory, she now respected as his nod to his brothers in arms.

‘How’re y’all doin’ tonight?’ he asked the audience, his southern twang as thick as ever.

Rosalie smiled at the wolf-whistles and screams Seth received from the field in front of the stage.

Then Billy counted them in and Seth kicked off with a medium tempo track from his album, one Rosalie had loved the first time she’d heard it in the studio. It took a line, maybe two, but Seth settled quickly into the performance, singing and playing as well as he ever did, teasing the crowd as he built the track and found his stride.

When he kicked on after the second chorus, Rosalie closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the music rock her body. When the song ended and the screams and cheers had died down, Seth thanked the audience, then started talking to them. Rosalie missed what he said because a kerfuffle of noise started up behind her. Turning to look across her shoulder, she saw a tall, broad guy in black jeans, black shades and a black leather jacket. With his messed-up rock-star hair, she could have sworn it was…

‘Randy?’

Seth’s rock-god brother finished signing the breasts of a woman and came to Rosalie’s side. ‘If it ain’t the designer lady.’

‘Hi, Randy. I didn’t realise you and the band were playing?’

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