by Ruby Laska
The knapsack, like so much about Carl, was part of the disguise he had cultivated. He never actually came out and denied the rumors that he was Johnny Cash’s nephew, but he made damn sure to cover up the fact he was the one who started most of those rumors. Regina was one of the only people who knew he’d been born Carl Bettendorf from upstate New York, and gotten himself a fancy East Coast education before coming to Nashville and transforming himself.
After a few taps of the keyboard, Carl spun the laptop around and Regina found herself looking at a publicity shot of the same girl who’d exited the stage only moments earlier. Underneath were the columns of data that Carl was so good at digging up: the handful of venues she’d played in the last few years, the few minor acts she’d opened for, the unknown bands she’d belonged to before they broke up.
Exhaustive research along with relentless determination was what Carl was known for. Just as what Regina was known for was discovering indie artists who were sure to become critics’ darlings—and earn next to nothing.
“You wouldn’t,” Regina breathed. “She’s mine. I found her.” After a lot of hard work and almost as much soul searching, Regina had discovered Stiletta through an obscure blogger and recognized her commercial potential. Regina was determined to finally land a client who’d be a financial success, someone who’d attract the big labels and land the sort of contract that would finally make her colleagues stop treating her like an intern.
“Oh, yes, I certainly would,” Carl said. “That was a very expensive wedding we cancelled, Reggie. I’ve got to recoup those expenses any way I can.”
***
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ruby Laska has always been a bit contrary. Where others see stop signs, she sees green lights. What others consider obstacles, Ruby likes to think of as opportunities. And when it comes to men, Ruby has always loved the ones that her mother warned her about: demanding, conflicted, and more than a little dangerous.
