Page 40 of Betsy
Tricia snorted. “Not likely. I’ve never heard him say anything he didn’t truly mean.” She leaned forward. “I know he’s hoping you’ll eventually find your way on stage with us.”
My bones turned to ice even though we were in the desert. I knew of Asher’s pipe dream, but even the idea of getting on stage made me nauseous. It wasn’t the fear of failure or of the stage or the lights or the audience that made me determined never to step foot on the raised platform. It was fear of success. If I lost my head to the adrenaline and endorphin rush of performing as much as I’d already lost my heart to music itself, what would keep me from becoming just like the people I despised?
“I have to run the soundboard.” That’s what I’d been hired to do. My job.
Tricia tossed her hand in the air, batting away my reasoning like a cat with a ball of yarn. “All the places we’re scheduled to play are large churches with their own PA systems and knowledgeable people who run the equipment every weekend. You could easily walk away for a set or two and we’d all be fine and still sound great.”
“I…” really didn’t know how to respond to that. Had Asher—
Tricia hissed in a sharp breath through her teeth. She curled around her middle—as much as one could curl around a watermelon.
I put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Should I get someone?”
Her eyes squeezed shut but she shook her head. After a moment, her eyes opened and her cheeks puffed out as she huffed. “Braxton Hicks.”
Should’ve known. Bella had experienced something similar, although not until about a week before Charlotte was born. “I know you’re tired of hearing this, but are you sure living on a bus and performing every night is really the best idea for you right now?”
She reached behind herself and tried to massage her lower back with her fingertips. I made a turn motion by spinning my index finger in the air, and she obeyed. I pressed my thumbs into the muscles along her spine.
She moaned. “That feels so good. Thank you. Also, you sound just like Asher. He’s been trying to tell me he’d postpone this tour ever since he found out I was pregnant, even though doing so could be a detriment to his career.”
“What do you mean?” I pushed small circles into her aching back to work out the tight muscles.
“There’s a representative from a record label that’s going to come out to hear us when we play in Los Angeles.”
My hands stilled. “Wow. That could be huge for all of you.”
Tricia was shaking her head even before I’d finished my sentence. “I plan on staying home to raise this baby once she’s born.” She caressed the side of her stomach. “Jimmy and Marcus started playing for the worship team during church services. Marcus had begun to get into some trouble, and Jimmy was desperately searching for an avenue to reach his son. That’s how they met Asher. The band is more of a hobby they can do together. Neither one of them wants to make this gig into a lifetime career. Jimmy works from home, which is how he can get away for this tour, but Marcus is headed to college next year. Besides Asher, Dave’s the only one who considers music a viable occupation option.”
I absorbed this information. “Let me get this straight. Asher knows the label will be at the concert and what that means for him personally, but he tried to cancel anyway?”
Tricia nodded, happy to see I was finally catching on. “For me, because of the pregnancy, and for Marcus, because he needs to study for college entrance exams and get his applications in order and sent out.”
“But why would he do that if he knows this is his chance to break through and make a name for himself?” It didn’t make sense.
Wyatt had dropped Bella at the first whiff of an opportunity, and his shot hadn’t even been as big as someone from a label seeing him live. Even Malachi’s brother, who I could admit was a descent sort of fellow, if misguided, (at least he had eventually come to his senses, unlike some others blinded by ambition) had gotten himself into debt and risked his family legacy for just a chance at something big.
Tricia patted the back of my hand. “I told you, Asher doesn’t care about a bunch of people knowing his name, winning awards, or any of that sort of thing. But his reason? First Corinthians chapter thirteen lists a lot of things love is and isn’t—one of those things being love is not self-seeking. Simple as that.”
A tug-of-war started up in my insides. Asher North was turning out to be anything but simple.
16
Asher
The drive into the Las Vegas area had been quieter than I’d expected. Well, as quiet as a Frankenstein bus could be. The vehicle shook, rattled, and rolled more than Bill Haley and his Comets on theEd Sullivan Showback in the fifties. Other than the moaning and groaning from Igor, however, everyone else had been relatively mute.
Jimmy had stated he hadn’t slept well the night before so was passed out on the bunk, Marcus sprawled in the bed under him studying from a biology textbook. Tricia sat in the banquette with her chin propped into the palm of her hand as she looked out the window and watched the scenery pass by, while Dave drove and Betsy pretended to read her book.
I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. I never would have thought it possible to render Betsy speechless. She had the quickest comebacks and razor-sharp comments of anyone I’d ever met. Her wit might have scared me if I didn’t find it so completely attractive. Nor had I thought I’d ever catch her hiding—from anything, but especially not from me. She was the type of person who didn’t back down. Who was ready to fight and stand her ground instead of tucking tail and running.
Honestly, I’d found myself wondering what it would be like with Betsy and Mother in the same room. Cynthia North could make any human with a beating heart cower, but I somehow suspected Betsy wouldn’t kowtow. She’d give as good as she got and maybe even come out the victor. Because Mother’s dining room would probably turn into a verbal boxing ring if I ever brought Betsy there to meet my family.
I mentally grabbed the trailing leash of my thoughts and pulled them back like a puppy needing to learn to heel. The point wasn’t that I’d allowed myself to wonder what would happen if I introduced Betsy to my mother. The point was that Betsy had become tongue-tied and had even tried to back away and make herself unseen. Because of me.
I tried to keep my chest from inflating too much. I wasn’t successful, but it was the trying that counted, right? I wouldn’t have been lying if I’d said I’d come out of the bathroom without a shirt on against my will. I’d planned to be fully clothed. But then my elbow had knocked my tee off the miniscule sink into the sudsy puddle, and the cotton had become soaked. I hadn’t had any other option but to retrieve a new shirt, and to do that, I’d had to leave the privacy of the bathroom shirtless. The whole thing had been innocent and unintentional.
If I’d said I hadn’t been pleased with the reaction I’d gotten from Betsy, nowthatwould have been lying. Ever since I’d met her, she’d kept her expressions bland and blasé. I never knew what she was truly thinking or feeling. Even if she did say something, I’d wonder if her sarcasm was really a smokescreen, so I’d wait for the effects of her flash-bang to dissipate, then peer deeper.
