Highway Song: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel

Highway Song

Jessa Jacobs

Table of Contents

Title Page

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

Exerpt from Roll Me Away (A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel)

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ONE

Rex

“
H
oly fuck!
”

I was lifting a mug of ice-cold draft beer for my first swig when the exclamation from our manager, Mark Brent, caused me to miss and splash half of it over my hands as I flinched. The sound of Mark
’
s chair hitting the floor as he jumped to his feet accompanied his exclamation. I jerked my head up, ready to rip him a new one, only to see him running out the front door of the bar, his cell phone in his hand. I set my remaining beer down quickly and then followed Mark at a run, along with the rest of the band members.

As soon as I was out the front door, the others clustered around me, I saw the reason for Mark
’
s alarm. The bus was on fire.

Joe, the driver, had an inadequate-looking fire extinguisher aimed underneath the vehicle, where black smoke roiled out unchecked by the foam. As soon as the guys saw what was going on, pandemonium broke loose. Unlike bigger bands, ours traveled with no road crew. Our instruments and accessories, all but a drum kit, were in the luggage hold, perilously near the fire. Ike, the drummer, was the only one besides me who didn
’
t run to the bus to rescue equipment.

I froze for half a second, and then used lungs more used to belting out rock music to yell.
“
Guys! Get away from there! It could go up. Holy shit, it
’
s just
things.
”
Axel, Kirk, and Cole ignored me, while Mark took off after them. I turned to Ike.
“
Call 911!
”

“
Rex, take a look around. There
’
s no fuckin
’
town. This is just a shitty little biker bar in the middle of BFE-nowhere Wyoming. Where do you think a fire crew is going to come from?
”

I lifted my gaze and stared out at the highway stretching from the east horizon to the west. Ike was right. Not a building in sight, other than Smokey
’
s Roadhouse, the bar where we
’
d stopped for lunch. The smoke from under the bus was dissipating, though. Maybe the fire extinguisher had been enough after all.

Mark had managed to pull Cole, the bass player and one of my best friends, away from the bus. But the two guitarists were still banging on the luggage hold, as if that would make it magically open. I couldn
’
t blame them. Between them, they probably had thousands of dollars
’
worth of back line in that hold. By rights it should have been in a crew bus, along with the road crew we didn
’
t have. Even as I watched the bus destroy what might be our last chance to make it before some of the guys bailed on me, I knew it was my fault. It was a real possibility our careers would be as good as over if this damn fire meant the bus wasn
’
t road-worthy.

We
’
d been in Omaha when Mark came to me with the problem. He had an invitation to a Battle of the Bands-type gig in Seattle in four days. If we
’
d dumped the gig in Salt Lake City, we wouldn
’
t be on this road, and the construction delays wouldn
’
t have made us miss that date anyway. But here we were, our reputation on the line, still less than half-way to Seattle, and only three days to get there.

Even if our driver could stay awake for another all-nighter, he wouldn
’
t risk his license to fake the driving log. The thirteen hour drive from Omaha to Salt Lake City would have taken us most of two days without the construction. With it, we were still who knows how far from Salt Lake, with another twelve hours to go after that. Two more days.

“
Where the fuck are we?
”

Ike stared at me.
“
What the hell difference does it make, Rex? We
’
re not going anywhere soon. Betcha there
’
s nowhere to even tow the fuckin
’
bus to get it repaired.
”

It made a difference to me. We needed to make that gig in Seattle, even if we had to walk there carrying the instruments. I said so. Ike spat on the ground and stalked away, back into the bar. Mark had rounded up the other three now that the fire was out. They brushed past me and into the gloomy interior of the bar, but Mark stopped to consult with me. He may have been the manager, but I ran the band. This was my responsibility and my decision.

“
What do you think?
”
he asked.

“
I think we
’
re screwed.
”

“
Could be. Whatcha want me to do?
”

“
Call the company you leased the bus from. Have Joe talk to them and tell them what the damage is, if he knows. Get a mechanic here, something. I don
’
t know. I
’
m not a damn mechanic. Will the bus run, or won
’
t it?
”

Mark gave me a wounded glance. He had a right to
—
I was taking the bad luck out on him. He didn
’
t start the fucking fire.

“
Sorry, Mark. Just handle it, will you? I need to think.
”

I shuffled back into the bar, knowing my beer was warm by now, and that was just the least of my worries. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, I noticed the girl behind the bar. Even as worried as I was, I couldn
’
t help giving her my trademark smirk. The only thing that made this life on the road tolerable were the groupies we collected along the way. I stepped over to the bar.

“
Looks like we
’
re going to be here awhile, sugar. I let my beer get warm. Could I have another?
”

“
Sure, honey.
”
She met my eyes and froze. Hers widened. Well, well. Someone who knew of us, of me, all the way out here in the wilds of Wyoming? A flush started in the center of her chest, where she displayed a fine cleavage with her low-cut bustier, and crept up to her face. Definitely worth exploring later. I asked when she
’
d get off work.

“
I
’
m here until one,
”
she answered, averting her face for some reason I couldn
’
t fathom.

“
So you
’
re off in what, half an hour?
”

“
Twelve and a half,
”
she corrected.
“
We
’
re short-handed right now.
”

Amy

H
e didn
’
t recognize me, thank God. I couldn
’
t afford for anyone to know who or where I was. After I calmed down, I reasoned it out. It had been seventeen years since he
’
d last seen me, and I was only ten at the time. There wasn
’
t a snowball
’
s chance in hell he
’
d know me now. Not only had I grown up, I
’
d grown up hard.

On the other hand, I knew what that cool once-over meant. His eyes lingered on my cleavage a second too long. If I knew men, and I had good reason to, he
’
d make a play for me sometime tonight. I couldn
’
t let that happen under any circumstances. It would just be too weird, even though our relationship was less than nothing.

His mother had married my father nineteen years ago. Like most of the women he attracted, she didn
’
t last long, though it was longer than others before her. She took off two years later, and took her seventeen-year-old son with her. She hugged me before she left, and whispered,
“
I wish I could take you with me, honey, but he
’
d come after us. I
’
ll report him to the authorities.
”

I had no idea what that meant, then. And if she did, it went nowhere. My dad needed a substitute punching bag, and I got nominated by default. Whenever I hid from him, I pretended my big stepbrother, Rick, would find me and take me with him. But his last words to me,
“
See you kid
,
”
never came true. I hadn
’
t seen him again. Until now.