Griff shrugs, trying to shake the worry nagging at him. “Freddie’s got a reason, so she’s here. I just sing.”
“I still think it’s a bad idea.”
“You think what’s a bad idea?”
Brian snorts. “The way you’re looking at her. You got that ol’ cartoon wolf tongue thing goin’ on.”
“Just another girl,” Griff says mildly.
“Bullshit. You’re still hung up on her.”
Annoyance fills him. Griff leans back on the couch, adjusting his aviators. “I’m tryin’ to sleep, Brian. Tryin’ to get some goddamn peace and quiet, so shut the fuck up.”
But Brian continues chattering like he hasn’t heard him. “Hey, I don’t blame you. We’re gonna get rich with that thing on board.”
“I’m gonna fire your ass you keep talkin’ like that.” He keeps his voice light, easygoing, even though his fists curl at the way Brian’s talking about Alabama. She ain’t just another girl and she sure as hell ain’t some thing.
“Yeah, well. I know you and Freddie made a bet, but my advice—steer clear of her. She’s bad news. After what she did to Luke Kincaid, she might work on hangin’ you out to dry next.”
A hot hit of anger rushes through him.
The last thing he wants to do is talk about the Brothers Kincaid. Two of them ditched Griff on his last tour, leaving him without a bass and a fiddle player. Then they came back from nearly a yearlong hiatus to bust his ass in the charts. Everyone thinks Luke’s a saint when it’s Alabama taking the beating in the press. Besides, thinking of Alabama locking lips with Luke Kincaid doesn’t exactly endear the guy to him.
It makes him livid.
“You believe that shit?” Griff asks.
“You don’t?” Brian shakes his head sagely. “She ain’t the girl you remember, Griff. Get that through your skull before she gets under your skin.”
Doubt wraps itself around his mind, Brian’s words like a soundtrack on repeat. Sure, Griff’s known her forever, but does he know who she is now? Maybe he’s been in the wrong defending her. Maybe she did do all those things they said she did. But he can’t believe that—he didn’t the first time he heard it, and he won’t now. The thing to do is get answers from Alabama.
Brian’s smug voice cuts in. “Although the way it’s lookin’ now,” he says, “I’d say you’re in good shape. It’s pretty clear she can’t stand you.”
Griff growls and snaps his eyes shut. He knows what Brian means; he saw it on Alabama’s face the second he set foot on the bus. She’s gonna be treating him like a grimy gym sock this entire tour. Which is just fucking perfect. The farther apart they can stay, the better.
There’s a hard knock on the door, and then it’s swinging open to reveal Mikey, their stage manager. His face is calm, yet tinged with panic.
“We got trouble, Griff.”