“What did he think?” she asked.
“That you were great. And he gave me a bunch of suggestions that we can work on.”
They watched the car disappear around the corner. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird all day.”
His jaw clenched. “There’s a lot going on. Like I said earlier, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do,” she said.
He sighed. Defeat clouded his eyes.
“Garrett, you can talk to me.” She put her hand on his cheek. “Please don’t leave me in the dark like this. I’ll understand.”
He stepped out of her reach, appearing stricken.
Still he said nothing, and her panic reached new heights.
A couple walked past them on the sidewalk.
“Can we get out of here? I’d like to talk in private where it’s just you and me and we don’t have to worry about who overhears,” Riley said.
“I think we should cool things off,” he blurted.
She stared. “What?”
He finally looked her straight in the eye. “Things are moving too fast. I don’t want our feelings for each other to get in the way of finishing and launching your record.”
“Why would it? We both want the same things.” At least she had started to once she got to know his softer side, but where was that now?
“We need to have clear lines of communication and letting emotions get in the way will only screw things up.”
“Why are you saying this? None of it seemed to bother you yesterday. Is it because of your dad?”
Garrett looked away.
“Oh my God, your dad said something. He doesn’t like me.”
“He likes you just fine, but he said that this can’t work long term. And he’s right. The odds of you and me staying together are slim to none, but the odds of you making a real go as a recording artist are huge.”
“You’d rather make records with me than be in a relationship?”
“Riley, the whole reason I came to Chicago was to produce records. Not find a girlfriend. I like you a lot, but I can’t go sleeping with my clients.”
“Now I’m a client? And whoever said I’d sleep with you anyway? Everything was great until your dad showed up, and now you’re running away like a scared little boy.”
“No. I’m facing the facts. Business needs to come before personal.”
“And whose words are those? Your dad’s? Geez, Garrett, grow a pair.”
“This is exactly why we should concentrate on work. Personal stuff gets in the way. I never should have started this.” Garrett turned and walked away.
“I can’t believe I fell for you. I am such an idiot,” she said as he left her behind. How could she have made such a huge mistake?
46
The next afternoon, Riley downed two more painkillers. Her fever refused to go away. Adding to her problems, Garrett wouldn’t answer his phone. Riley wanted to scream, except that her throat burned and every muscle ached. She dreaded having to face Garrett after he broke off their barely started relationship. Tonight she was scheduled to go onstage as an opening act at House of Blues, and she desperately wanted out of it.
Canceling a gig was one of the worst things an artist could do, but then again Garrett deserved it. He treated her like a second-class citizen, springing this performance on her with such short notice, bossing her around, and then dumping her. After she’d cried on Erika’s shoulder for an hour last night, Erika said it was no wonder Riley was so sick after all this stress.
Riley sent him a final text. I’m sick. Can’t sing tonight.
That ought to get his attention. Her phone pinged immediately in reply.
Grab a cab. Come straight here. I’ll meet you at the stage door.
No! She just wanted her bed.
Instead, she forced herself into the hot, humid air and hailed a cab.
“House of Blues, please,” Riley said, climbing in. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, only to be startled awake when the taxi pulled up to the Marina Towers. How convenient that her first gig would happen right below where Garrett lived. Talk about a control freak. He probably planned it that way.
As the cabbie announced her fare, Garrett appeared. He peeled off a couple bills and paid the driver.
“You look like hell,” he said with a mix of concern and irritation on his face.
“I feel worse.”
He put his hand to her forehead. She wanted to swat it away, but the action would have taken too much effort.
“You’re warm. Let’s get you a Tylenol.”
“I’ve already taken some.”
He led her toward the rear entrance. “Well, you’re going to need more before the day is over.”
Riley stopped outside the stage door. “Garrett, I can’t. Seriously. I’m about to fall over. I’m not saying this because I’m trying to punish you. I’m really sick.”
He crossed his arms. “I know you don’t feel well, and that you don’t especially like me right now, but there’s not much I can do about that. You’re nervous and afraid to appear onstage. You’ve probably made yourself sick worrying about it. In our business, we don’t cancel. Ever.”
He stared at her, leaving a long, silent void in the air between them.
“You want me to go on, even if I sound horrible?” she said, her voice sounding scratchy.
“No, I want you to go on and push through it. For two songs, I want you to forget you’re anything but perfection. I want you to rock that place and give them a performance they’ll never forget.”
“I can’t.” Tears welled in Riley’s eyes.
Two guys approached, their cameras clicking.
“Garrett, how are you handling the band breaking up?”
Garrett turned his body away from the photographers, took Riley gently by the arm, and guided her through the doorway.
“Paparazzi are the last thing I need. I swear my whole world is turning to crap.” He led her onto the stage. She saw cameras positioned around the stage and on the balcony. The hair on the back of her neck went up.
“Yes, you can perform tonight, because we’re filming your music video.”
She turned her weary eyes on him and asked with the last of her energy, “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”
“And give you more things to freak out about? No. Now go to your dressing room and gargle with some warm salt water. You have sound check in ten minutes.” He walked away.
“Where are you going?” she called after him in disbelief.
“To call a doctor.”
Riley crossed to the stairs. In the first room at the top of the steps she found her outfit hanging from a clothes rack. A love seat with pillows and a throw blanket occupied the room, along with an armchair and a dressing table with a lighted mirror. A bathroom was off to the side.
Riley closed the door and collapsed on the couch. She flung a pillow across the room in frustration over Garrett’s bullying tactics. It’s like he had flipped a switch and returned to his former, unlikeable self. He had a lot invested in tonight, especially now that a full-scale film crew had taken over, but did he really want her to go on when she’d sound so sucky?
I hate Garrett, she texted Erika, then tossed her phone on the coffee table. Emotions overcame her, and her throat tightened. She willed herself not to cry; it hurt too much.
A few minutes later she joined the studio musicians onstage. As she ran through a sound check, she tried to hit her marks, but couldn’t avoid the sluggishness surrounding her. In the audience, Garrett consulted with the camera guys.
In the middle of the second song, he signaled to cut the music.
“Hold up, guys. Let’s take five. Riley, meet me in your dressing room.”
Her first instinct was that he wanted to apologize and say how wrong he’d been and that he needed her in his life. But more likely was that she sounded so bad he planned to bawl her out.
She slid the mic back on the stand and trudged up the stairs t
o her dressing room. A minute later Garrett walked in with a man wearing a sport coat and tie.
“Riley, this is Dr. Vos. He’s going to take a look at your throat.”
So Garrett wasn’t here to declare his undying love.
“Hi, Riley, nice to meet you.” The doctor stepped forward and shook her hand.
“I’m an ear, nose, and throat specialist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. I’m on call when artists such as yourself aren’t feeling well, but still need to perform.”
“I didn’t know doctors did house calls.”
“Or House of Blues calls, and from what I hear you’re feeling pretty blue,” he joked. “Why don’t we sit down here on the couch? Is it okay if I look at your throat and do a quick checkup?”
“Sure. Can you cure me by eight o’clock?” She knew there was no escaping the performance.
Garrett watched, concern etched on his brow. Yet he avoided looking directly at her.
“Probably not, but maybe we can get you through it without any hitches.” Dr. Vos took her temperature, pulse, and blood pressure.
Riley struggled to keep her eyes open. She wanted to sink back into the couch and sleep.
“Now let’s take a peek at your throat.” He shined a light in her mouth and used a tongue depressor. “Your throat is pretty ugly, but it doesn’t look like strep. We won’t know without a culture.”
He pulled some supplies from his bag and cultured her throat.
Riley gagged and her eyes teared as he swabbed the back of her throat.
“Sorry about that.” He swabbed his petri dish and then dropped everything into a Ziploc bag.
Garrett held out a tissue. She took it from his hand and wiped her eyes.
“Have you been taking anything?” the doctor asked.
“Tylenol. A couple every four hours.”
“All right. We won’t know about the rapid strep test for a couple of hours. I’ll drop it at the lab right away. If it’s inconclusive, we’ll leave it for forty-eight hours to see the result.”
“Thanks, but that won’t help me much tonight,” she said, defeated.
“No, it won’t. I’d prefer you drank clear liquids and went straight to bed, but I understand the show must go on. I took the liberty of writing a prescription and having it filled before I came. It’s for a much stronger painkiller.”
Oh, great. The good doctor planned to drug her. “Won’t it make me loopy?”
“This is a common prescription painkiller. You’re getting one dose. All this does is mask the pain for about four hours.”
“If you want to get through tonight, you need to take the pill,” Garrett said.
Riley ignored him.
“The management here will vouch for me, as well as the hospital. Here’s my contact information.”
She accepted his card. It looked official.
“You don’t have to take the painkiller, but it will help you get through the performance. Either way, I will follow up as soon as your test results are back.”
Riley took the prescription bottle. A single pill rattled in the bottom.
“Try to rest before your performance if you can. And straight to bed when it’s over,” the doctor said.
“Thank you.”
“One last thing. Break a leg!” He smiled and left. Garrett followed him into the hall.
Erika rushed in.
“What are you doing here?” Riley asked, wishing everyone would go away.
“Protecting you from you know who. I don’t trust him not to be an even bigger jerk,” she said, sitting next to Riley.
“He’s been okay.” But Riley missed the Garrett from the past few days who had held her in his arms and made her feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.
“What did the doctor say?” Erika asked.
“He doesn’t think it’s strep. He gave me a painkiller for tonight, but I don’t know if I should take it.”
“Stop being such a drama queen. He’s a doctor! Take the damn pill.” Erika handed her a bottle of water.
“It’s just that this is how people become addicts.”
“My mother has a stash of these she uses whenever she gets a hangnail. It’s a painkiller, not heroin. Bottoms up!”
“I hate you,” Riley said.
“Yeah, you’ve been saying that a lot today.”
Garrett returned in time to watch Riley toss the pill in her mouth and swallow.
“Nice job, Erika,” Garrett said.
“I’m not talking to you, so save your breath,” she answered.
“I could have you tossed out of here,” he threatened.
Riley rolled her eyes.
“Try it,” Erika dared.
Ignoring Erika, he spoke to Riley. “Were you comfortable with the sound check? Do you want to do anything else out onstage?”
Comfortable? Not even close, but she didn’t feel like going back onstage, let alone getting off the couch. “No, I want to close my eyes.” She sighed and leaned back, wishing this whole ordeal would be over.
“There’s about two hours before you go on. How about we leave you alone and you try to catch a few z’s.”
“Are you serious? Maybe you do have a heart in there somewhere.” She laid her head on the arm of the love seat.
“Contrary to popular belief, I do. I’ll give you one hour. That should leave you time to warm up and get ready.”
Garrett pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over her, which made her sad that he wasn’t hers anymore. The softness of the couch cushioned her aching body. She closed her eyes.
“I’m going to leave and let you sleep. I’ll see you after the show, but if you need anything, I’m a call away,” Erika said.
“Thanks, Erika.”
Riley sensed Garrett looming over her. “Good-bye, Garrett.”
“I’m leaving.”
The light switched off and she was out.
Garrett hated having to play the tough-love card with Riley, but he’d already screwed up and needed to set the right tone from here on out. When she’d climbed out of that cab earlier, he wanted to fold her into his arms and comfort her, but he needed to draw strict lines between them. He couldn’t afford to screw up again.
Hopefully a little sleep and the painkiller would get Riley back on track. All the times he’d been sick on the road, his mom had been there to take care of him. She’d bring in the soup, tuck him in, and do a dozen other things to help him feel better. He couldn’t cross the line and get too personal with Riley anymore, but there was something he could do.
He moved quietly into her dressing room and snuck her phone off the table.
47
“Riley, honey, wake up.”
Riley was dreaming again. Wasn’t she? Then a gentle shake of her shoulder forced her out of her deep slumber.
“Riley, open your eyes. You have to get ready to sing.”
It sounded like her mom, which was so strange, because her mom didn’t know she was singing again.
“She’s really out,” she heard Garrett say.
“She always did like to sleep in.”
The voice sounded distinctly like her mother’s. Riley’s eyes shot open.
“There you are.” Her mother’s face appeared in front of her.
“Mom! What are you doing here?” She scrambled upright.
Her mother smiled broadly. “Imagine my surprise when I received a call on your phone from none other than Garrett Jamieson. I thought for sure it was a prank call, because I wasn’t aware you knew Garrett Jamieson, let alone were singing again.”
Riley turned to Garrett and cried in disbelief, “Why did you call her?”
The smile on his face faltered. “Because you’re sick, and I figured having your mom here would make you feel better.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned.
“And I’m so glad he did, or I might have never known you were singing and recording an album. You shouldn’t keep such wonderful news to yoursel
f,” her mom chimed.
Riley dropped her head into her hands and swore.
“How are you feeling?” Garrett asked.
She swallowed. Other than the shock of seeing her mother, the cyclone of doom, she actually felt pretty good. “Better. Definitely better.”
“Great. I’ll get out of here while you get changed. We can do vocal warm-ups as soon as you’re ready.”
Garrett disappeared, leaving her alone with her mom. Riley braced for the oncoming storm.
“Riley, what is going on here? And why haven’t you told me about this?” her mom snapped.
“Mom, I only found out about the concert a few days ago.” Parched, Riley reached for her water bottle and drank. It no longer hurt to swallow.
Her mom looked at the clothes hanging on the rack. “I think things have been going on for a lot longer than a few days.” She ran her hands over the stylish leather jacket.
There was no escaping her mom now. “I didn’t decide to start singing again by choice. It was the only way I could think of to come up with money to pay for the car that you didn’t insure and the damage it did.”
“You know that wasn’t my fault.” She slipped the jacket off the hanger and tried it on. “This is really cute. Did your new boyfriend buy it for you?”
Riley snatched the skinny black jeans and acid-washed graphic tee off the rack before her mother could, and slipped into the bathroom to change.
From behind the safety of the closed door, Riley yelled, “He’s not my boyfriend, and yes, the car thing was your fault! You never bothered to insure it, even after I asked you to. I do everything for you, Mom, and you shit on me time and time again.”
“You said you worked for an insurance company. From what I’ve heard, that’s a total lie, too.”
Riley stepped out of the bathroom wearing the new clothes. “Mom, this isn’t about you. For once, it’s about me.”
This day was bad enough, and now she had to worry about whatever horrors her mother was about to commit. She pulled on her stylish new boots.
“Which is why I’m here, to help.” Her mother admired herself in the mirror.
Garrett entered cautiously. “Is everything okay? Sounds a little loud in here.”
Under the Spotlight Page 21
