Free Unruly by Ronnie Douglas

was what Echo was meaning, even if he didn’t come right out and say it. He was right, like always. I should reconsider singing for money. I loved it, and maybe I could do it without sacrificing my other passion. Selling a few songs might be a way to make money for Mama and me, money that the club wouldn’t need to give us. I felt suddenly guilty that I hadn’t thought about that before. It wasn’t that I wanted us to be beholden to Echo, but I hadn’t wanted to sell my voice. There were dreams that were too real, too important. If I failed at most things, it wouldn’t be devastating, but singing was something that I’d held on to as a link to my father. Surrendering that, being rejected for that, would break something inside me, and I didn’t know that I’d recover from it.
    On the other hand, accepting Echo’s offer to make some calls was a lot less appealing than I’d have liked. If I succeeded, I needed it to be on my own merit, on my own terms, not because someone knocked down doors for me. There were things I could accept, had accepted, over the years from the club. I paid them back with the same loyalty I’d expect to have been given by my father. This wasn’t about the club, though. It was about me. That meant I needed to do it my way.
    Before I could think twice about it, I picked up the phone and called Alamo.
    â€œAre you okay?”
    â€œIs that how you always answer the phone?” I asked lightly.
    â€œYou’ve never called until today.” He sounded slightly calmer, but he paused and added, “Are you?”
    â€œI think so,” I said, feeling silly now that I had him on the phone. “I want to go over to Memphis . . . and I want you to come with me.”
    Alamo was silent so long I thought he might have hung up. Softly I asked, “Are you there?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œOkaaaay . . .”
    â€œMaybe Dash should take you,” he said.
    This time I was the one who went silent. I was torn between defending myself and telling him to fuck off. The one and only time we’d discussed Noah in any real detail was months ago, and that was the day Alamo had seen me tearful.
    â€œIf you don’t want to—”
    â€œI didn’t say that.” Alamo sighed. “This is a favor for a friend you’re asking for, right?”
    â€œIt is.” I was feeling more mortified by the minute. “You know what? I’ll drive myself. It was stupid to ask you to c—”
    â€œI’ll be there in twenty. Thirty tops. Just let me make a call, and then I’ll be headed your way.” He hung up before I could reply, but that might’ve been the best thing because I had no idea what I would say. Calling him had been impulsive, but it had seemed like a good idea . . . up until he answered the phone. Now I wasn’t sure whether or not I even wanted to wait for him.
    Okay, that was a lie. I wanted to, but it was a thoroughly ridiculous thing to want. I felt like I was throwing myself at him. He’d all but said I was bothering him, not just by his silence but by bringing up Noah. Sadly, despite those facts, I still wanted to see him. I wanted him to come with me to sing. I wanted him to carry me home afterward . . . and stay for a while.
    I was pitiful.

Chapter 7

    A LAMO LOOKED DOWN AT THE PHONE IN HIS HAND LIKE it was a viper. Ellen wasn’t making anything easy for him. It was hard enough watching her sit there while Dash flirted with Aubrey in front of her, but now she was calling him, asking him to go to Memphis. She hadn’t said that she and Dash were on the outs, but they obviously must be fighting if she was asking Alamo instead of Dash to carry her over to Memphis—not that having her on his bike was a hardship. She had exactly the right sort of everything to make him forget good sense: a curvaceous body, bold attitude, and smart mind. Add in that voice of