Last Breath Read Free

band members are fine, my daughter, Shaley, is fine. And that your love and devotion to our music is what keeps us going.”
    â€œWe love you, Rayne!” a man yelled, and the crowd was off again, screaming.
    Mom raised her hand, palm out, for silence. She had to wait a long time.
    â€œThe next few days of touring are going to be hard for us. But, as they say, the show must go on. We’d appreciate your prayers.”
    The fans roared once more.
    Prayers? I’d never heard my mom ask anyone for that. But after what we’d lived through in the past two days, I was all for it.
    I focused on Carly, my favorite backup singer. An African American with warm eyes and a caring heart, she was the one who’d prayed for me. She was the one who’d told me God was “always watching.”
    â€œAnd now,” Mom cried over the noise, “let’s have some music! ”
    Stan’s guitar struck a chord, and the last song blasted. The fans shrieked.
    Ten minutes later, the concert over, Mom and I were back in her dressing room. She looked so tired as we gathered our purses and headed down the hall with Mick and Wendell. Outside, the limos waited to take us to the hotel. Ross had gone ahead and checked us all in. Our suitcases waited for us there, watched over by the bellmen.
    From the arena filtered the after-concert sounds of chairs being taken down, the stage being struck. Rayne’s own roadies, plus local hired hands, would be at work for hours, packing everything away. Vance would pull out with the bus tonight, along with all the trucks. They’d drive all night and be waiting for us in Albuquerque when we flew in tomorrow.
    â€œSleep.” Mom ran a hand across her forehead as we hit the back private exit. “I just need sleep.”
    â€œYeah. Me too.” But she had to be way more tired than I was. At least I didn’t have to perform.
    Outside, Mom took a deep breath of the night air and put an arm around my shoulder. “You okay, Shaley?”
    â€œI’m fine.”
    Your father sent me.
    The band members, plus back-up singers Carly, Lois, and Melissa, divided into two limos. Tall, skinny Lois hunched down to get into the limo with me and Mom. Carly and Melissa followed.
    â€œHey, girl, how are you doing?” Carly gave me that wide, easy smile of hers, but her brown eyes searched mine for more than a surface answer.
    â€œI’m doing okay. I just want to get to bed.”
    Lois shook her head. “Don’t we all.”
    Three Denver police cars escorted us as we headed out of the parking lot, following the lead limo. Up ahead, where our privately guarded area ended, I spotted the paparazzi and reporters. Local security members lined our path, arms out and facing the crowd to keep them back from the cars.
    I cringed. Here it came. The cameras, the shouting. Everyone fighting to get around security. I hated it. Especially now. People we knew and loved had been murdered . We were still in shock. Why couldn’t everyone just leave us alone?
    We reached the mob. Flashes glittered the night. Sudden light from movie cameras shot through the window.
    â€œRayne!” someone yelled. “What happened to Bruce?”
    â€œWhy did Jerry shoot him?”
    â€œWhy did your bus driver want Shaley?”
    â€œShaley, talk to us!”
    â€œTell us about Tom!”
    â€œShaley! Shaley!”
    I scrunched down in my seat and covered my ears. Mom drew me to her chest. “Hang in there, honey. We’ll be at the hotel soon. Then nobody’s going to bother you.”
    Until tomorrow when we’d have to go out and do this all over again.
    Tears burned my eyes. I longed for Brittany. If only she was still with me. But that very afternoon her mom had insisted she cut her visit short and return home—our tour wasn’t a safe place for her to be.
    I couldn’t really blame a mother for that.
    The noise passed. I blinked hard and sat up. Took