Wild Horses

ONE

"Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired..."
- Daughtry; Witness

"Are you sure this is what you wanna do?" Pauline asked, lifting her coffee mug to her lips.

Amber let out a breath and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Mom, it is."

Pauline swallowed as she looked out the window to the backyard. The swing set was old and rusted, the sandbox her children had once played in now overgrown with weeds. Her daughter was nearing twenty. It was time to let her go and earn her wings.

"Then I think you should go for it," she said with a sweet smile.

Relief spread over Amber as she rose from her chair to give her mother a hug.

"Thanks, Mom. I'll make you proud, I promise."

"You already do, sweetheart," whispered Pauline as she patted Amber's hand, a tear trickling out of the corner of her eye. "Now you go follow your dream. Laci and I will be just fine."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. She's a wild one, keeps me on my toes. Just like you."

Amber caught the loving admiration underneath Pauline's joking tone.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too. Now stop making me teary-eyed and go pack."

Amber grinned as she bound for her bedroom. She was gonna be okay. She could feel it.

The restaurant was freezing. Actually, to say it was a restaurant was like calling that motel they'd stayed in the night before the Ritz. It was a dang Waffle House, but at least it was cheap. Amber had managed to save up some money on this short road tour, but she wasn't about to splurge on a real restaurant, even if that sign she'd seen for that Mexican place had looked appealing. Still, it was so freaking cold in this joint, her nipples could've broken glass.

"And what can I get you, hon?" asked the blond middle-aged waitress.

Amber faked a smile as she rubbed her arms. "Eggs over easy with grits and bacon please."

The waitress nodded and penciled in her order before addressing Carter who sat beside her. He ordered his usual - three waffles. Nothing else. Of course he would smother them later with butter and maple syrup. Amber watched him sip on his Coke when the waitress walked away and wondered how on earth he was able to carry all the band equipment day after day when he was loaded up on so much sugar. She never once saw him come down from his high and fall flat on his ass, but she waited for the day she would.

"How many more miles til Nashville?" groaned Brendan, running his palm down his face, his eyes weary.

"About eighty or so," replied Johnny, smoothing out the road map in front of him. "Not much longer."

"Good, cause I need a real bed. Alone."

Amber smiled meekly at her bass player. Brendan had taken the wheel early that morning after they'd left Charlotte. The boys were getting a bit restless and annoyed with having to share a motel room, one of them usually opting for the floor or the van so they wouldn't have to share a bed. Occasionally if Amber got a double room, Carter would convince her to let him take the other bed. Sometimes in the beginning he'd even slip himself into her single bed, and she wouldn't kick him out if she was drunk enough. But those days were over, she'd told him.

Nashville would be a different situation. The band was scheduled to play a festival, billed as one of the opening acts. It would be excellent exposure for them, and in return they got free accomodations at the Hilton. It was a sacrifice Amber was willing to make to get the recognition. She'd just decided not to tell the boys until after the show that they weren't getting paid.