Georgia Clay

by KG Fletcher

  “Four?”

  Buddy laughed. “Yeah, four. And they need to be songs that will come out on your first record. Preferably songs that will shoot to number one.”

  Clay’s head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. It was obvious Buddy had spent some time already thinking about the possibility of him agreeing to his offer. Four songs performed at the Ryman Anniversary show? That was two more than some of the featured biggest names in country music. His heart was racing. Buddy seemed to sense his nervousness.

  “Now don’t be getting all out of whack. You got this, Clay. It’s just like the Bluebird, only more people in the audience.”

  “If you say so…”

  Buddy leaned his elbows on the desk, pushing himself forward with authority. “I do say so. You were born to do this. I’m just happy you’ve finally come to your senses. What was the deciding factor, if you don’t mind me asking? Was it that pretty little Atlanta girl who came to see you a couple of weeks ago?”

  Clay couldn’t help the immediate grin that spread across his face and looked down at the glass he was fingering nervously. It was hard not to smile when he thought of Katie. “It was a combination of things, I guess.” He lifted his head and looked intently at his friend. “I’ve been thinking about this since the first time you offered me a recording contract three years ago. I like to weigh my pros and cons—take my time on big decisions.”

  “I’ll say! Thank god you swung my way. This sure is a hell-of-a-way to start the work week.” Buddy lifted his glass into the air in a salute before tipping it back and downing the bourbon in one swallow. Clay followed suit. “Now get outta here. I got work to do on behalf of my new male country music superstar.”

  Clay stood bashfully, shifting in his boots. “Thank you, Buddy. I mean it.” He thrust his hand out across the desk.

  Buddy took it and laid his other hand on top. “No, Clay. Thank you.”

  ***

  Katie sprawled across her king-sized bed in nothing but her bra and panties, trying to cool off from the August heat. She had come home at a decent hour after work for a change, trying to coax her body into a new workout regime that included a brisk walk around the neighborhood. What she didn’t anticipate was how freakishly hot it was outside in the early evening. Every ounce of water she had consumed that day poured out of her in buckets of sweat. Her cheeks flushed, and her hair was soaked. The AC and spinning ceiling fan did little to cool her down, and when her cell phone rang, she moaned, not wanting to move.

  “Hello, this is Katie Parker,” she answered with her eyes closed.

  “Katie? It’s Clay. What are you doing?”

  “Clay?” She sat up with a start. He normally called around ten in the evening. On occasion, he called her at the office to let her know he was pining for her. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Everything is…great! I couldn’t wait to call you tonight. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

  She held her breath. “The first to know what?”

  “I did it. I talked to Buddy. The wheels are in motion for me to sign with Warner Music as a touring artist!”

  She jumped off the bed and squealed. “Oh, my god! That’s fantastic! Was he surprised?”

  Tapping the speakerphone button on her cell, she set it on the nightstand and grabbed a towel to wipe the continuous sweat that trickled from her pores. She listened intently to Clay give her a play-by-play of his conversation with Buddy. When he told her he would have carte blanche of what songs would go on his first record and he would get to pick his producer, she was in awe.

  “Buddy wants to get a special holiday tour together and head out after the Ryman show. He thinks we’re going to make a lot of money together on the road.”

  “Wow…,” she sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her chest was heaving, and her head started to ache. A small panic button had gone off in her brain, throwing her off. She was excited for Clay, sure. But the realization that it was all happening so quickly caught her off guard. “What happens next?” Her voice was small.

  “He wants to concentrate on the Ryman show and recording my debut album. We have about six weeks to put it all together. Katie, he wants me to perform four songs that night…four! The other artists only get two. He said something about saving me for last.”

  “The best for last,” she interjected. “You’re gonna blow their boots off.”

  Clay chuckled. “I’m just glad you’ll be there in the audience.”

  Katie nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  They talked a little more before Clay was interrupted with a call from a potential producer he was interested in. He told Katie news travels fast in Music City and promised to call her back later. They said goodbye and she free-fell onto the bed, puzzled by the hot tears that streamed down her cheeks. Everything was changing. How would this affect their new relationship moving forward? Would they be able to see each other at all? She wiped the tears with her damp towel and shook her head, resolved to be genuinely happy for Clay and not worry. If the universe threw them back together again after ten years apart, surely, they could find a way to make things work while he was on the road. Her cell phone rang again, startling her out of her funk. She assumed it was Clay calling back.

  “Hey, Firecracker. Did you miss me?” she said seductively into the receiver.

  “Who the hell is Firecracker?”

  Katie sat upright, her eyes wide with surprise. “Hartford? Is that you?”

  “Hey, baby girl! I’m gonna be in town for a few days. You mind if your older brother stays over a couple of nights?”

  Her heart surged with sibling love. Hartford Parker was one of her most favorite people on the planet. A few nights with her only brother would cheer her up for sure.

  “You better! I’ll have your room all ready for you. What are you in town for?” She could hear traffic sounds in the background of the call.

  “It’s a long story. Save me some time after work so we can catch up. I’m flying in tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “You’re moving back to Atlanta? Do Mom and Dad know?” Katie was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked up under her, sipping wine. From her vantage point, she thought that her brother looked tired. His customarily coiffed hair and clean-shaven face were a mess, and he had noticeable dark circles under his eyes. He had flown in from DC, his shirt and pants wrinkled from travel and his tie loosened around his neck. His rolling luggage sat in the entryway near his shoes that he had slipped off. Her big brother seemed out-of-sorts, unlike the polished professional broker he usually was. She watched him take a long pull from a bottle of beer and sigh.

  “No, I haven’t told Mom and Dad. I don’t want them to worry. I figured I could stay at your place until I found something and let them down easy.”

  “What happened?”

  Hartford Parker laid his head back on the overstuffed chair and stared up at the ceiling. “I was let go.”

  “What?” Katie perked up and placed the stemware on the coffee table. “Why?”

  “It’s a long, drawn-out story. I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

  She shook her head, worried that his job loss might have resulted from his temper. It wasn’t as prevalent the older he got, unlike their teenage years at home when he would often erupt like a violent volcano. An angry look from him had made her burst into tears on more than one occasion while they were growing up together. The funny thing was, he would erupt, and five minutes later, he’d be sweeter than honey in a beehive. Nonetheless, she loved her big brother to pieces and would do anything to protect him. She’d keep her mouth shut and not tell her parents anything. It scared her knowing something terrible must have set him off for them to let their top broker go.

  “You didn’t do anything physical to anyone, did you?” She had to ask. Hart wasn’t a bad-boy, per se. But if he was mad enough or in protection mode, one better look out. There was a time when s
he was being picked on in middle school—bullied by a big boy who teased her on the school bus because she was already filled out and so much taller than the other girls her age. When Hart witnessed his only sister crying uncontrollably and found out who the culprit was, he made sure to let big boy know to stop—with his fists. He never teased her again.

  “No, Katie. I didn’t do anything physical.” He chugged the rest of his beer in three gulps. “We left on amicable terms. I’m receiving a four-month severance which will help while I try to get my feet planted back here in the ATL.”

  She watched him stand and walk into the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge.

  “Why Atlanta? Why don’t you try to get another job in DC? You must have a lot of connections, and I thought you liked it there?” She had visited him once, impressed by his leased condo with a long-distance view of the Washington monument. He seemed to fit right in with all the perfectly dressed politicians and professionals.

  “I need a clean slate. And I miss home. I miss you and Mom and Dad. Atlanta’s a lot cheaper than DC too.”

  Her heart surged with love when he said he missed her. She missed her big brother too. It would be nice having him back in town.

  “Have you eaten anything today?”

  Popping the top off the bottle, he gulped half the beer in one pass. “Had some peanuts on the plane. And a few Jack and gingers.” He smirked.

  “Hart,” she chastised. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep drinking like that. Let me make you a sandwich.” She stood, grabbed her wine glass, and made her way into the kitchen. Hart followed like a curious child.

  “What have you been up to? How’s your job?” he asked, leaning his butt on the counter and watching her.

  “Job is good. Working nonstop.”

  “How’s hot-Stacey?”

  Katie gave him a disappointed sisterly look.

  “What?” He grinned sheepishly. “You know I’ve always enjoyed her fine ass.”

  “Hartford!”

  He picked a piece of turkey off the sandwich she was making and popped it into his mouth. “You know I’m kidding. I could never date your best friend. Even if she is hot.”

  “She’s dating Brent Rowan again.” She cut the sandwich and handed him a half.

  “Really? How’d that happen? Wait… didn’t you just have your ten-year reunion?”

  Katie nodded as she put the sandwich fixings back into the fridge. “Yes. Brent is divorced, and they hooked up at the reunion. They’ve been dating ever since.” When she looked up at her brother, the sandwich half she had handed him was gone, and he was working on the other half. “Do you want another sandwich?”

  “Nah,” he replied with his mouth full. “This is good!”

  They walked back to the living room and sat down. Hart ran his hand down his face wiping off crumbs. “What about you? Did you hook up with anyone?”

  She could feel heat swell on her cheeks and fingered her glass. “Yes, I did.”

  He was dumbfounded. “Really? Who?”

  She tried to stifle her grin by biting her lower lip. “You wouldn’t know him. He came to Lakeside during my senior year. He’s a songwriter in Nashville.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Katie rolled her eyes knowing that the Hartford Parker inquisition had just begun. “Clay Watkins. He’s known in the Nashville songwriting community as ‘Georgia Clay.’”

  “Uh-huh…” Hart had fired up his cell phone and was efficiently scrolling the web, she was sure of it.

  “Hart, don’t go nuts with this, okay? You’ll like him. He’s a nice, normal guy—”

  “In the music business,” he muttered.

  She waited for a beat, knowing the web was about to reveal how famous her new boyfriend was. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth formed an ‘o’ as he read from his phone. He sat up straight, setting his beer on the coffee table.

  “Are you shittin’ me, Katie?” His eyes darted to her quickly before he continued to read.

  “Hart! Stop. It’s all good.”

  He continued to hold his phone and leaned back in the chair looking at her with surprise. “You’re dating that guy? Georgia Clay?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be damned. That’s incredible. Do I get to meet him?”

  “Well, if you’re staying here, yes, you’ll get to meet him. We trade weekends seeing each other. You’ll have the place to yourself this weekend because I’ll be in Nashville.”

  “Damn, baby girl! You went and grew up on me.” His brown eyes displayed nostalgia. “Is he good to you?”

  She nodded. “The best.”

  “Do you love him?” he asked wistfully.

  Katie looked at him pensively, not sure if she could answer his question. “I’m on the verge….”

  ***

  There was absolutely nothing in the refrigerator except a few condiments, expired milk and two beers. Shaking his head, Clay grabbed one of the beers and flicked the top off, sending it skidding across the marble island. He was dog-tired after a full day of meetings with his new tour manager and the producer, and he didn’t have the energy to swing by the grocery store on his way home. Buddy was correct. Things were moving quickly. So quickly that he hardly had time to eat all week. His jeans felt loose, and his stomach clenched as the cold beer filled up the emptiness inside. He had managed to call Katie around ten that night while he was still at the Warner Music offices, but their conversation was cut short with people waiting to speak to him. Her voice tinged with disappointment, and he felt bad for having to hang up. Looking at the clock on his microwave, he contemplated calling her, but it was almost two in the morning. She’d be in Nashville in less than twenty-four hours, and he figured he could make it up to her then. He set the half-drunk beer on the counter and shuffled to his bedroom where he collapsed on the bed with his boots still on. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

  Five hours later, Clay was up, showered and dressed ready to meet the studio musicians who would be playing on his debut album. In three short days, he and his new team had agreed on most of the songs that would be featured. Clay already had music charts, and his new assistant had put everything in binders, efficiently placing them on stands ready for the talent that came in. His eyes lit up when he saw a massive spread of breakfast food, juice, and coffee when he walked into the studio. Sustenance was needed if he was going to be able to concentrate on the most important work of his life. As he piled a plate with eggs, bacon, and a bagel, Buddy came up behind him and patted his back.

  “Good morning,” he said exuberantly. He held a Styrofoam cup of coffee, looking fresh as a daisy in a crisp, white-button-down shirt, khaki pants, and cowboy boots. “You excited? Trent said you landed on most of the songs for the album yesterday and secured the studio musicians at a moment’s notice. I’ve never seen anything move so fast in this town. It’s incredible.”

  Trent McDonald was a top music producer from Los Angeles. He had made Nashville his home several years ago when there was a sudden boom in the business, producing multi-platinum albums with several of the top country artists at the time. The West Coast native had fallen in love with the Music City, and one of his female production assistants, marrying her six months after they met. Three kids and numerous award-winning records later, Trent was still at the top of his game, in high demand by all the up-and-coming artists in town. For Clay to have him as his first producer on his debut album was unheard of. To book him in a matter of days was a miracle. But with his reputation and catalog of award-winning songs over the years, Trent told him he didn’t have to think twice, humbled when Clay confessed he was his first choice.

  “Yeah, I’m excited.”

  Buddy nodded as if he understood what Clay was going through. “Enjoy the ride. You’re in good hands with this all-star team we’ve assembled. It’s going to be an epic day—and it’s only day one!” Clay chuckled nervously. Buddy eyed his plate. “Eat up. I’ll check in with y’all when you break for lunch
. Just remember, these are your songs. You’re the driver of this bus. Show ‘em how you do it and make me proud.”

  “Sure.”

  Buddy patted his back again before he left him alone in the hospitality room. Clay took a big bite of food, hoping it would squelch the millions of butterflies that were flapping in his empty stomach.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Bright stars splattered the sky by the time Katie pulled up to Clay’s condo. She’d been trying to reach him for the past two hours to let him know she was close. He had sent a brief text saying he was still in the studio but would call in a few. No such call came. She figured he was immersed in the music and couldn’t fault him for forgetting. If he was in the middle of something creative, she didn’t want to bother him and chose to park near his home, wandering down Broadway, stretching her legs after the four-hour drive, mingling with the tourists. The bright lights and the sounds of country twang made the atmosphere carnival-like. She looked out of place dressed in navy pants and a scoop neck, pale-pink sleeveless blouse. Her pointy shoes clicked along the cement, and she held her pocketbook close as she took in the sights and sounds. She wished Clay had given her access to his place, but he had been so busy during the first week of collaborations with his new team that he had forgotten to leave a key just in case he was running late. And now she couldn’t get in touch with him.

  Following a group of people into a familiar honkytonk, she found a lone seat at the bar and set her pocketbook down. She ordered a Tanqueray and tonic and texted Clay to let him know where she was. Swiveling on the stool, she watched a trio of girls on stage sing in three-part harmony. All three were gorgeous, young, and blonde and each one played an instrument effortlessly. No doubt they’d get discovered.

  “Hey, darlin’. I haven’t seen you around here before.” A tall, good-looking cowboy sat next to her, holding a bottled beer by the neck. Yeah, he was cruising.

  Katie eyed him and took a quick sip of her drink. “I’m waiting on someone. Sorry.”