Page 45 of Accidental Fire
Kit tried to hold in his laugh, but I didn’t, and we ended up rolling around on the bed, both of us hysterically laughing and hanging on to each other. It was funny, but I loved hearing his deep laugh. I could listen to it for the rest of my life.
Chapter Seventeen
Kit
The State Room, Salt Lake City
River was in the sleeper cab, sawing logs as I drove the truck to Salt Lake City for their concert at The State Room. I had a very full load and a very happy heart. River and I were exclusive, and the trust between us grew more every day.
Bailey Wright, a recording engineer Nate had sent to meet us in Salt Lake City, arrived on Friday afternoon while we were still in Phoenix. Olive was able to commandeer an empty suite at the hotel so he could set up his equipment and talk to the guys about how to capture the best sound possible in a live venue, and I sat quietly in a chair in the corner, my gaze glued to River. I memorized every facial expression he made as he played.
There had been a few glitches with the equipment at the beginning of their set on Saturday night, but luckily, Ryder, Derek, and Jaxson from Maiden Voyage were in the audience, and they were able to help Bailey work it out. By the time they started playing their metal songs, all the bugs were worked out, and they sounded fantastic. The encore was amazing.
The Maiden Voyage guys hung around for a while after the show, and seeing the excitement bubbling from the members of Accidental Fire made me smile. They asked questions about touring, and the more seasoned musicians were happy to answer. When they left us after the equipment was loaded, Ryder said to contact Masterson Management if they ever wanted tickets. It was a nice gesture.
When we loaded up to get on the road, Olive rode with the security guys. She’d been eyeing Rowdy since she arrived, so I wasn’t surprised.
Olive was a great help to me at the venue, showing me things that I could do to help the band during the show, like providing water and towels for them between songs. I would have never thought of it, and I’d never seen Kensington doing anything of the sort during the other shows.
Bailey Wright decided to ride with the roadies in the luxury van they were using. I was glad nobody suggested he ride with me because that meant I could grab River to keep me company.
I’d gulped coffee the whole ride, and I desperately needed to pee. “Call Clancy,” I instructed my phone after I touched the Bluetooth button on my steering wheel.
It rang twice. “Yep.”
“I’ve gotta hit the head. There’s a rest stop at exit two sixty-one. I’m taking it.” They could go on. We’d only be about fifteen minutes behind them.
“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll be right behind you,” Clancy said. I merged into the right lane, and he followed behind me.
As I touched the brake to take the exit, I heard River stirring. “Why are we stopping?” I’d barely engaged the air brakes to slow us down.
“I need to use the restroom. You don’t need to get up. You can go back to sleep. I’ll only be a minute.” I turned into the parking lot and glanced at the gas gauge. I’d need to fill up before we get on the road to Denver, but for now, it was fine.
“Oh, I gotta go too. The sound of that brake always wakes me up. It means you’re arriving wherever I am.” A warm hand touched the back of my neck as River slid into the passenger seat and put on his seatbelt.
“And you’re glad I’m arriving wherever you are?”
“Yes, and I always will be.” He put his hand on my thigh and smiled. I could look at that expression all day long.
We pulled into the rest area, and I drove around to the semi lot and parked. The tour bus pulled up next to me, followed by the van for the roadies and the Tahoe with the security detail. It was eight in the morning, and we had about fifty miles to go until we reached downtown Salt Lake City. I needed to go shopping to replenish my supplies for the trip to Denver, where the next tour stop was scheduled.
The State Room was a smaller venue—only a two hundred and ninety-nine guest capacity. Thankfully, it had ample parking for the bus, my truck and trailer, and the additional vehicles in our entourage.
We quickly unloaded the trailer, once again leaving the backdrop at the front, and I helped carry the equipment into the gray brick building. River and the band were inside with their acoustics, working on another new song, and so far, things had been going well.
“What’s going on with you? You’re not getting paid for this.” I glanced over my shoulder, put down the large speaker I was carrying, and smiled.
“How’s it going?” I asked Dagr Blix, or Yeti, as he seemed to prefer.
“Bored. Anything I can do to help?”
I glanced at his six-foot-five-inch frame and chuckled. “You can pick up my truck and trailer and scoot them two inches closer to the curb,” I joked.
Yeti’s full belly laugh made me smile. “You didn’t answer my first question. You’re not getting paid to do more than drive a truck, right? Why are you helping out with everything? What’s in it for you?”
After putting down the speaker, I pointed to the edge of the stage, and we sat down. “My uncle is Nate Ashby. He approached me in May about taking the job to haul the band’s equipment from venue to venue. What I didn’t expect was to meet such a great group of people supporting five young men who happen to be immensely talented and stupid at the same time.”
The man laughed again. I was surprised he was so amenable. A man of his size could take on the entire defensive line of the Chicago Breeze and not break a sweat.
