Southern Rocker Chick

by Ginger Voight

  But none of them were me. It was the only thing I had to hang onto.

  I sat in their midst as I watched the rest of the contestants introduce themselves and sing. I closed my eyes as I listened to each one, to test how their brand fit their vocals, to see who really was fiercely themselves in an industry that churned out only a handful of tried and tested prototypes.

  As such, I heard the familiar voice before I saw his handsome face. As he introduced himself, my eyes swung to the stage.

  It was really him. Jonah was here.

  He spotted me in the crowd immediately, as if he were looking for me. He then launched into the ballad, “To Make You Feel My Love.” There were tears in his eyes as he sang only to me. There were tears in my eyes as I watched him. In fact, I saw several people, male and female alike, who brushed tears away when he was finished.

  He caught up with me briefly backstage, but I had nothing to say aside from, “You did good.”

  We both made it through the next round, as did Courtney Adams, Jonah’s one-time girlfriend, who also, surprisingly, was there. More than once I wondered if that was on purpose. Why else would Jonah have dropped his lucrative gig with Gaynell, or his possible contract with Jasper, to reset back to zero on some amateur talent show?

  I watched them as they sat together during every performance. I watched how they supported each other, even though they were in the middle of a competition. There were way more questions than answers but I couldn’t dwell on it. I had one purpose and one purpose only. I would not be distracted again.

  Finally we were divided into rooms, to learn our fate of who would be going on to the live shows.

  Giovanni Carnevale gave us that winning smile as he joined us to deliver the news. “I just want you all to know that you all did great. I’ve been doing this show a couple years, and the talent this year is outstanding. That is thanks to all of you, so give yourselves a big hand.” He clapped for us and we dutifully followed along. “That being said, the cuts this year have been harder than any year before. We’re going to have to let people go who are seriously talented. Whatever happens today, I want you to know that each and every one of you has what it takes to turn music into your career. You should never give up if that’s what you really want,” he said as he spared me a glance. “This business isn’t for the faint of heart. It will test you to your absolute limit and beyond. But as they say, success isn’t permanent and failure isn’t fatal. You always have to push through to that next step, no matter what, especially if you want a significant career.”

  Everyone nodded. I’m sure many felt as sick as I did as we waited to hear if this was good news or bad news. I glanced over at Jonah, who had a supportive arm around Courtney.

  “Who here wants a significant career?” Vanni asked. Everyone shouted and hooted and hollered. “Are you ready to fight for it, no matter what happens?” We all roared our response. “Good. Because you’ve all moved on to the live shows.”

  Pandemonium erupted as people jumped into each other’s arms and cried and screamed with joy. I saw Courtney practically vault into Jonah’s strong arms. It made my soul ache to watch them. Vanni must have seen the pained expression on my face. He bent toward me, his hand on my back, a smile on his face. “Hey, this is good news. Look excited, will you?”

  I laughed as I glanced up at him. He was the reason I was here. I owed him everything. I reached for a hug, which he indulged. “You did good, baby girl,” he whispered against my ear in a voice so gentle I could forgive the forbidden words. In fact, I had never warmed to them more. His dark eyes were warm as he stared into mine. “You deserve to be here. Don’t you dare forget that.”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  Within minutes of being passed around from contestant to contestant, I ended up in front of Jonah. “Congratulations,” he offered in a tight, controlled voice.

  “You, too,” I said. “On everything,” I added as I pointed to Courtney.

  He glanced at her and then looked back at me. He simply nodded. He opened his arms and I hesitated only a moment before I indulged the hug. His strong body felt so right in my arms. There wasn’t one fucking inch of me he didn’t fit just like a glove. I pulled away because it scared me to death how easy it as to forget all the pain he’d put me through.

  I had other things to worry about.

  I headed back to the tiny apartment I shared with my mother, which was even tinier than the trailer despite the extra room for Cody. I sat her at the table and presented her the contract. It outlined all the money I could expect to be paid to appear on the show. The longer I stayed, the better. “It’s not even about winning,” I told her. “If I get my face out there and develop a following, I can sell records.”

  At least, that was what both Vanni and Graham had told me. Given their past successes, I had no reason to doubt them.

  Surprisingly, Mama took it much better than I expected. I referred her to Graham for any further questions she had. He explained how it worked for families, showing up every week to show their support, filmed backstories that let the audience get to know their favorite contestants even better.

  Despite that, I had made it plain that I was not going to pimp Cody out as some sob story. It was me and Mama or nothing. They reluctantly agreed to honor my wishes when they put the package together, piecing together my tale of woe, my endless heartaches of being a starving artist since I was twelve, and my ongoing challenge to define myself first.

  Fortunately Shannon and Graham were way more accommodating than Gay had ever been.

  By January I headed to the mansion where all the folks who had made it to the live shows would live while we performed. I was nervous as hell about seeing Jonah again, especially if he had renewed his relationship with Courtney.

  But I saw neither that first day, when I toured the house prior to moving in. I did, however, meet several folks who had auditioned on different days than my particular group. I didn’t know who they were or what they could do, but, again, none of them looked like me.

  In fact we were all pretty different. We were different races, different sexual orientations and different sizes. Everywhere I looked there was someone who fit in simply because they stood out. I knew better than to judge anyone by their cover, even the larger man I accidentally bumped into as I headed down stairs as he was going up.

  The minute our eyes met, however, I was in for one of the biggest surprises of my life. Though he had packed on about forty pounds and wore a deep tan, I’d recognize those crystal blue eyes anywhere.

  “Lacy?” he asked, staring at me incredulously.

  Of course he was here. How could it be my dream if he wasn’t around in some way to ruin it?

  “Hello, Tony Paul,” I said coolly.

  He surveyed me up and down, taking in all my changes, as I did to him as well. It had only been a few years since we had seen each other, but we looked nothing like the people we once were. He no longer sported a womanizing smirk or a tight pair of jeans. In fact, I saw a shadow of the awkward fat kid he used to be peeking out behind the shadows in his eyes as he searched my face. “Don’t tell me you’re competing.”

  I scowled at him. “No, I’m the maid.”

  I started past him but he grabbed my arm. We stared at each other for a long moment. Even with the extra heft, he was still a striking man. And he’d probably sail right through this competition because women were way more forgiving about that sort of thing than men. In fact, he would more easily be forgiven for being unattractive than I could ever be for not being attractive enough. It made me want to eat an entire cheesecake.

  Or at least smash it in his face.

  “Lacy,” he began again. I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, I did.

  After all this time, I had a lot to say.

  “What? What do you have to say, Tony? That you’re sorry you screwed me over for a stupid record contract? That you’re sorry you abandoned me and our unborn child? Tha
t you’re sorry that you bailed on us when we needed you the most, just because you didn’t want to give me any of your precious money? What is it, huh?” I demanded softly.

  He could say his worst. He couldn’t hurt me anymore.

  “Why are you here?” I demanded softly. “I thought your mother was greasing Jasper Carrington’s wheels for your return.” Clearly she had to have been, otherwise why would Jonah be here now, in need of a contract from Graham?

  He shrugged as he motioned to his larger body. “You can’t be a sex god and look like this,” he said softly.

  “Welcome to the club,” I sneered. “You can be a pop princess and look like this,” I indicated to the tattoos that now covered my skin.

  His voice was soft. “You still look amazing.”

  I turned away with a shake of my head. His words stopped me cold. “How’s Cody?”

  I spun back to face him. “Seriously? You can ask me that?” I glared at him. “Cody is none of your concern, remember? You made that clear both before and after you signed those papers.”

  His brow furrowed. “What papers?”

  I scoffed. “Please. You never would have stepped foot on US soil if you thought I might come after you for your precious money. So you have it. Congratulations.”

  He studied my face thoughtfully without saying anything. Instead he simply sighed as he dropped his hand. “I guess there’s nothing left to say but good luck.”

  I swallowed any response as I turned to leave. I was so relieved to be done with him. I had my son. He had his money. That was the way he wanted it.

  But as I descended the steps, I realized that I had never gotten the paperwork back dissolving his parental rights to Cody. He had signed them, right? He had to, otherwise why would he be here?

  So why did my mentioning them puzzle him? Surely his mother had told him about the paperwork from the moment I returned to Southern Nights.

  Hadn’t she?

  If not, why? It made no more sense than why she hadn’t pounced all over that paperwork the minute I presented it. If I was some grifter, some money-hungry baby mama, why didn’t she sever the ties when she had the golden opportunity?

  Why didn’t he?

  I turned back to ask him what this new game was, but he had already disappeared into one of the upstairs bedrooms.

  There was no way in hell I’d follow him up there.

  We’d talk about it later.

  If we were going to be living under the same roof for the foreseeable future, we’d have more than enough time.

  I headed downstairs and back to my apartment so I could hug my son.

  He was the only thing that mattered. Then. Now. And always.

  END OF BOOK TWO

  In December, the Southern Rockers trilogy comes to a close with SOUTHERN ROCKER DUET. All the players are in place for the talent show of the century, where secrets, betrayal, family loyalty, lust and romance erupt in the shadows offstage. Who will win? Who will lose? And what will happen when the Hollises and the Abernathys live side by side at last, risking it all for the sake of a dream?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ginger Voight is a screenwriter and bestselling author with over twenty published titles in fiction and nonfiction. She covers everything from travel to politics in nonfiction, as well as romance, paranormal, and dark, “ripped from the headlines” topics like Dirty Little Secrets.

  Ginger discovered her love for writing in sixth grade, courtesy of a Halloween assignment. From then on, writing became a place of solace, reflection, and security. This was never more true than when she found herself homeless in L.A. at the age of nineteen. There, she wrote her first novel, longhand on notebook paper, while living out of her car.

  In 1995, after she lost her nine-day-old son, she worked through her grief by writing the story that would eventually becomeThe Fullerton Family Saga.

  In 2011, she embarked on a new journey—to publish romance novels starring heroines who look more like the average American woman. These "Rubenesque" romances have developed a following thanks to her bestselling Groupieseries. Other titles, such as the highly-rated New Adult series, Fierce, tap into the "reality-TV" preoccupation in American entertainment, which gives her contemporary stories a current, pop culture edge.

  Known for writing gut-twisting angst, Ginger isn’t afraid to push the envelope with characters who are perfectly imperfect. Whether rich, poor, sweet, selfish, gay, straight, plus-size or svelte, her characters are beautifully flawed and three-dimensional. They populate her lavish fictional landscapes and teach us more about the real world in which we live simply through their interactions with each other. Ginger’s goal with every book is to give the reader a little bit more than they were expecting, told through stories they'll never forget.

  For more, please visit gingervoight.com.

  Please follow Ginger on Twitter @GingerVoight and “like” her author page on Facebook for all the latest news on public appearances and new releases.