Page 13 of Betsy
“Four weeks.”
She paused, seeming to think. “I have some stipulations. Two, to be precise.”
I nodded. Not out of the ordinary if she wanted to call shotgun because she got car sick or insisted on working with her own equipment even though we’d recently purchased some specifically for touring. “I’m sure we can be accommodating.”
Her shoulders pressed back even farther. “The first thing is that no one in the band can develop any sort of romantic feelings for me or ask me out.”
I waited for her to crack a smile, laugh, and say she was only teasing.
She met my gaze in an unblinking stare.
“Like inA Walk to Remember? ‘You have to promise not to fall in love with me.’” I tried to impersonate Mandy Moore as Jamie Sullivan but failed miserably.
Betsy’s brows dipped. “What?”
I took a nice draw from my cold brew. “It’s a movie based off a Nicolas Sparks book. Tell me you’ve seen it.”
She pulled her cup closer. “Sorry.”
“Okay. No problem. We’ll add it to our movie list for the bus. I’ll be sure to pack extra tissues, because it’s a tear-jerker.”
“Umm…” For the first time, Betsy’s spine touched the back of her chair. She looked as though a street hustler had played the shell game with her and she was trying to figure out how the pea wasn’t under the shell she’d thought it was under.
Guess my response had thrown her. “I’m sorry to say I can’t tell you that it’s not a problem.” I was doing an awful job of suppressing my grin.
Her eyes were unfocused in her confused state. “Huh?”
“To your first stipulation. In the movie, Landon tells Jamie that it’s not a problem after she makes him promise he won’t fall in love with her. Want to wager a guess what ends up happening?”
Her lips pushed to the side. “He falls in love with her.”
I made a finger-pistol motion with my hand. “Bingo. So I can’t make you any such promises, because then we know what the inevitable outcome would be, don’t we?”
If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn Betsy made a little groan-growl sound from her side of the table. But it was probably just the noise of the busy café around us.
“What’s stipulation number two?” I asked. We were so close to the finish line on getting her on board.
She took a deep breath, her fingers back on the cardboard sleeve, spinning it around the edge of her cup. “I was wondering if…”
If I could perform with you.
If I could have my own solo.
If you’d write a song for me.
Yes, yes, and yes.
“If I could have part of the fee up front.”
She was the wave toppling my castles made of sand. I redirected my thoughts away from dreams to business. “Of course. How does three equal payments sound? One third now, a third halfway through, and a third once the tour is complete.”
“That would be good, thank you.” Her shoulders finally loosened, if only by a fraction.
I held out my hand for her to shake and make it official. “Welcome to True North, Betsy.”
“Thank you.” She pumped my hand twice, then let go. “Oh, there was one more thing. I just wanted to make sure you understood I’m only signing on to be your audio person. I’m strictly behind the scenes. No singing.”
NowthatI hadn’t shaken an agreement on.
