by Gia Riley
Copyright © 2019 by Gia Riley
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.authorgiariley.com
Cover Designer: Cover Me Darling
Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
Proofing: Judy’s Proofreading
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 9781795764995
This one’s for Halle. I give you Wirth and Hollis.
one
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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
thirty
thirty-one
thirty-two
thirty-three
thirty-four
thirty-five
thirty-six
thirty-seven
thirty-eight
thirty-nine
forty
acknowledgments
about the author
Sneak Peek of Until We Are Gone
Wirth
My sister’s good for a lot of things. Booking last-minute flights is definitely one of them. If it wasn’t for her, I’d still be stranded in Nashville, wishing like hell that I’d never gotten involved with my ex-girlfriend, Shannon.
Shannon’s the reason I’m on this late-night flight to New York, six months earlier than expected. While I’m pissed as hell, praying for a do-over, I’m sure she’s still at the bar, drowning herself in champagne while she searches for her next victim.
I had a great gig tonight, the kind you get only one crack at. If you screw it up, there’s no going back. You’ll be laughed right out of town.
How do I know that?
I know because it just happened—but not because of my voice or my music. They’ve never been better. Nobody would know though. Tonight, I didn’t even make it to the stage.
Big-name label executives were in the audience, and instead of playing my newest single, I left, kissing any chance of a deal good-bye. I was too embarrassed to face them. Too disgusted about what Shannon had done to get them to show up in the first place.
She’d let me believe everything was in order, assuring me her dad had pulled every string possible to get as many of them to show up for my set as he could.
Shannon lied.
She’d lied the entire time we were together.
And her dad had nothing to do with why they were there. He wasn’t even in the music business anymore. He’d retired and moved to Memphis a month ago. What she had done, she had done on her own, and why he’d let me believe he was involved, I have no idea.
All I know is that the night was supposed to be golden. Until it wasn’t.
Looking back, I don’t know how I missed the signs. How could I have been so blind to what was going on right under my nose?
But nothing was unusual or out of the ordinary the entire day. I was stoked the line to get inside the bar was wrapped around the building. There’d be a wait for hours, and I couldn’t even believe how many new fans I might gain by the end of the night. Already, my social media had blown up, just from the publicity the club was gaining.
But then I heard Shannon’s cackle. It always annoyed me more than I let on. I couldn’t figure out why it was coming from the manager’s office. All I knew was that it couldn’t lead to anything good. She only made that shrill sound when she was drunk, and she wasn’t known for being able to hold her liquor.
It played out in slow motion, something like out of a horror movie, including the blood and guts.
I hesitated before opening the office door, wondering how she’d gotten in there without me seeing her. I’d been right across the hall, the door to my dressing room not even completely closed. She’d told me she needed to use the restroom. I’d thought it was weird, considering I had a private one at my disposal a few feet away, but I wasn’t going to argue. If she wanted to be alone, so be it.
But, when I pushed open that office door and saw her on her knees in front of the owner, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.
Neither of them heard me, let alone saw me. They were too focused on finishing up what they’d started. And, when it ended, Shannon stood up and wiped the smeared lipstick off her chin. She looked as satisfied as he did.
I wanted to scream at the both of them, but all I could do was stand there and listen to their exchange, hoping it would give me some clarity about what the fuck I’d just witnessed.
“That should cover an extra hour tonight and a repeat performance next Saturday,” Shannon told him.
He fixed his shirt, zipped up his pants, and moved around to the other side of his desk. There was a glass of whiskey on the edge, and he downed it before he sat down.
“It’ll cover the hour tonight,” he said. “But this place is brand-new, Shannon. The waiting list to get a spot in the lineup is several months long. If you want your boy back that soon, you’ll have to do more than a blow job.”
Shannon’s fists balled at her sides. She looked on the verge of rage. But she didn’t lash out at him like I thought she might. Instead of laying into the owner, she pulled up her dress and bared everything underneath.
“Then, I suggest we get started,” she said. “If this is what you want, take it.”
I couldn’t stay quiet anymore. The girl standing in front of me wasn’t the one I had fallen for. I didn’t recognize this slut at all. And I didn’t want to.
There were a million things I wanted to say to her, but what I wanted to know more than anything would probably crush me. Because, if it were true, I knew I would be on the first flight out of Nashville.
“Is this how you get gigs for me, Shannon?” I questioned.
The waterworks started as soon as she realized she’d been caught. Shannon’s thin body shook, her chin quivered with emotion, and then she finally covered herself back up with her dress.
“He forced me,” she said as her words contradicted her movements.
I knew that was a lie. I’d just watched her offer her body to this man. A man I’d only met one time because I was stupid enough to believe her dad had things handled as my manager. It was my own fault for not being more involved in the booking process. A rookie mistake I’d live to regret for a long-ass time.
But he wasn’t to blame.
I was sure of it.
This wasn’t the first or last time Shannon would suck his dick.
When her fist reared back and popped him in the nose, he barely cringed. He took it like a champ despite the blood dripping onto his crisp white shirt.
“Fuck you,” she spat at him.
“We’ll get there,” he said with a sly smile.
Shannon was using him as much as he was using her. I didn�
��t even want to know why I’d gotten drawn into it. I was a virtual nobody compared to the rest of the singers in town. But maybe that was what had made me prime for the picking. I didn’t know any better. I was just thankful for a chance to sing, wherever that might be. And Shannon knew quality prey when she saw it.
“You know I’m the best sex you’ll ever get,” she taunted.
That was my cue to leave.
These two weren’t fighting. They were getting off on this shit, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
I was too embarrassed to show my face in the bar or to announce that I wouldn’t be performing, so I called my sister and asked for a flight out of here.
Shannon reluctantly followed me out of the office, and I couldn’t even look at her.
“Fix your face,” I told her. “You look like a whore.”
Her makeup was heavier than usual, and her eyes were rimmed in so much charcoal that she looked cheap. The red lipstick was still smudged on her chin, leaving little to the imagination for anyone who might see her.
“Wirth, slow down,” she said.
Why would I slow down? The only place I had to get was out of there. My reputation would be ruined within the hour when I didn’t show up onstage.
The owner would probably run my name through the mud if his brand-new investment didn’t have the kind of night it was supposed to. He’d blame it on the talent, not his staff. And he certainly wouldn’t mention the girl who’d sucked him off for business.
When Shannon grabbed my hand and tried to stop me from getting into my car, I spun around and took one last look at her. I didn’t care why she had done it. I wasn’t even going to ask. I just wanted to get the hell out of there before anyone saw me running.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But how do you think you got any of these opportunities?”
“I’m fucking talented,” I told her.
She chuckled, and then a tear slipped out of the side of her eye. It took that dust on her face with it, leaving a trail down her cheek. In that moment, I realized I’d probably never known the real Shannon, the one under all those layers of makeup. The girl she hid in order to be whatever this was in front of me.
“I got you this gig,” she said with an embarrassing amount of confidence and pride. “I got you a lot of gigs because I wanted you to be the best in town. I know how hard it is to score a spot in the lineup. There’re millions of people in one city, all going after the same dream. And, as part of your management team, I wanted you to make it.”
“You’re not my manager, Shannon. Your father was supposed to be, but I guess that’s all been a lie, too. I just can’t figure out why he still goes along with it. I’m sure he’s real proud of his little girl.”
The look of sheer panic on her face told me that her father had no idea how she operated. She confirmed it when she said, “When I took over for him, I was under a lot of pressure. He was amazing at his job, but he didn’t know what it was like to be a woman in the business. I had to work twice as hard, and men always told me no. They didn’t think I knew what true talent really was. But I do. I chose you for a reason.”
“You didn’t want this for me,” I told her. “You wanted this for yourself. The fame. The attention. The money. You never wanted to be with me.”
She didn’t deny the accusation, and considering Shannon had dated two other musicians before me, I knew the pattern would continue. She’d lure them in with her sweet words and sexy body. They’d fall for her like I had, and then she’d go back to doing business on her knees while placating them.
I’d always wondered why her exes had disappeared from the music scene. Now, I had my answer.
Shannon.
“Leave me alone,” I told her. “Don’t ever call me again.”
Her tears turned to sobs, and under normal circumstances, I might have felt guilty. But, instead of consoling her or making sure she got home okay, I walked away.
It was time I went home.
Wirth
Sitting on a half-empty airplane on New Year’s Eve really puts things into perspective. This time last year, I was making plans, looking forward to the next year of my life and the leaps and bounds I’d make with my music career.
What a fucking joke.
All that’s left of that is an impending call to Shannon’s dad, asking him what he wants me to do with the contract I have stashed in the middle of my song book. His name is on it, and it looks legit, but for all I know, that’s fake, too.
Regardless of whether it’s real or not, I don’t think it’ll be too hard to get out of the agreement. Especially not after Mr. Levitz finds out his daughter punched an owner in the face and does most of her dealings with her body.
As much as I’d love to out Shannon to the rest of the world, for the lying whore that she is, I don’t know that I can. What good would it really do? I’ve been humiliated enough, and at this point, the less attention that’s drawn to it, the better. All I want is to cut my losses and get out. I’m not going back to Nashville, nor do I have any plans to show my face there for a long-ass time, if ever.
Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t expecting life in Nashville to be easy. I was used to the challenges of trying to succeed, especially in New York where the country music scene just isn’t as strong. But, every now and then, I’d get lucky, and New York would feel like a piece of cake.
Gigs were just as hard to come by, and an entire country set was out of the question. But I’d get some of the best reactions when I swapped the expected pop songs for one or two country originals. It was always a gamble, one that could get me kicked out of the lineup, but I’d do it anyway. Those originals were how I made sure I stayed true to my music and that I didn’t get swallowed up by a city full of starving artists trying to make a name for themselves at any cost.
Some bar owners would eat it up while others would tell me to stick to the covers. The city could be brutal, but I didn’t give up on it like I’m giving up on Nashville.
Nashville is different though.
Not just the vibe, but from the day I arrived, I was homesick. The hustle of crowded subways and street corners was gone. Suddenly, I found myself in wide-open spaces and not a clue what to do with them.
I struggled day in and day out to fill all that empty air with substance. My creative energy was flowing, but all those new songs I’d written didn’t help. I was into the music, but I felt like leaving my theater family and my aunt was a mistake.
Maybe it was. Because why on earth would I leave a well-paying job in New York City to go to Nashville, begging for people to listen to me sing? I could have stayed where I was and done that.
Looking back, I wonder how much further I could have gone without Shannon. Meeting her certainly wasn’t part of the plan. But, at my second gig in town, she approached me and rattled off a list of pretty big contacts who could help get my foot in the door all over town.
I was cautious, but after I met her dad, I could tell he knew his shit. He’d launched some amazing careers. You couldn’t say no to someone like him, so I didn’t.
I let him hand me off to his daughter while he assured me I would be well taken care of. I assumed that meant that he’d always be in the background, looking over her shoulder, making sure I was on the best path possible.
I thought wrong.
Had Mr. Levitz been as active as I believed he’d be, I’d have a contract with a label by now. I’d have a place to live and more money in my pockets than I knew what to do with. I wouldn’t be headed back to New York to do the same damn thing I’d done six months ago.
I’ll be okay though. Once I get back to New York, I’ll slip back into my old life.
As soon as I was through security at the airport, I made a call to the production company and spoke with the head designer I’d previously worked for. I wasn’t surprised he was working on a holiday. The man was addicted to his craft.
My old job was handed back to me without a single question ask
ed. I had known it would be. When I’d quit, I’d told him the move was temporary. Maybe that was my first mistake. If I didn’t believe I was going to make it, why would anyone else?
It doesn’t matter anymore.
Later this week, I’ll go back to life behind the controls, working the sound and lighting for one of the most popular up-and-coming shows on Broadway. It’s a brand-new musical, but the previews have gone well, and with a little more fine-tuning, I’m told it’ll open in a couple of weeks.
My job working sound definitely isn’t as glamorous as being onstage. We rarely get any credit for the show even though we’re the ones who make everyone look and sound good. But who cares? I don’t need anything beyond my name in a Playbill.
The days of wanting my name in lights are gone. I have to accept the fact that Nashville swallowed me up and spit me out.
I’m going back to working in a creative environment with people I trust. Trust is so fucking rare these days, and I’ll never find the kind of loyalty the theater’s given to me. Not even close.
“Excuse me.”
I turn my head toward a tiny voice with a thick Southern accent. Sometimes, I felt like I was the only one in Nashville without one. I wore the boots and the jeans, sometimes a hat, but still felt like an imposter. From the looks and sound of her, this chick’s one hundred percent authentic.
I’m thankful her thick blonde curls aren’t chocolate brown like Shannon’s. I don’t think I could handle looking at a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl for the next three hours.
I almost groan when she licks her bright pink lips. Usually, that glossy shit turns me off, but whatever this girl is wearing, I like. I like it a fucking lot.
“Um, I have the window seat,” she says. “If I could just quickly climb over you.”
Darlin’, you could sit on my lap for all I care.
Darlin’?
I’ve never used that word in my life. I’m from the north where Yankees make use of the G on the end of their words. We enunciate every fucking syllable we’re given.
“Did you hear me?” she asks with her head tilted adorably to the side.
