Girl on Tour (Kylie Ryans)

by Caisey Quinn

  She literally seethed in anger. It rose up inside of her, lighting her on fire from her feet to her head. She ground her teeth together and did her best to keep her voice down. “I don’t know what in God’s name you’re talking about. But I do know that if you ever accuse me of fucking anyone else, then we will be done. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve only been with you. Ever. If you want to talk about people with a history of fucking anyone who—”

  “Wow, resorting to throwing my past in my face. Nice. Clearly you have nothing to hide.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide, thank you very much. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk?”

  For a moment, the other end of the line was silent and she worried he’d hung up. Adrenaline was pumping through her so fiercely she knew she’d never get back to sleep. Damn him.

  “What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asked, his voice slightly softer than before.

  “You’re slurring your words…and you’re being that guy again. The one you were before.” Sobs began to choke her. This was her worst nightmare. They were miles apart and he was drunk. On a bus with another woman. One who looked at him like he was filet mignon and she was starving to death.

  “I’ve always been that guy, Kylie Lou. Always will be.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her vision. Not that she could see much in the dark anyways. “No, Trace. That’s not true. You’ve been better—things have been better. Haven’t they?” Had they? She didn’t know really, since she’d hardly seen him.

  “No they haven’t,” he said, clearing his throat loudly in the phone.

  “I’ll call the Vitamin Water people and tell them I need a few days to deal with a personal issue. I’m going to meet you wherever you are and we can talk about everything in person. Just please, please don’t drink anymore tonight, okay?”

  “No.” His voice was hard and eerily calm.

  Dread skittered across her skin and the blood rushed from her head. She clutched the counter for support. “No I can’t come or no you won’t stop drinking?”

  “Both,” he said just before the line went dead.

  WHEN Mia and Lily appeared in the doorway and the light flipped on, she was crouched on the closed toilet seat. Violent sobs racked her body until it was hard to breathe. She’d tried so hard to keep them quiet as to not wake the others. Obviously it hadn’t worked. Yet another thing she’d failed at.

  “Kylie?” Lily whispered. “You okay?” She looked up to see the girl’s face bathed in fluorescent light and shock.

  Happy now? Now I’m the one crying in the damned bathroom. She’d been the strong one. She’d been the calm one. She’d been the one to comfort everyone else. To take the insults and the hatred aimed at her without flinching. And now she was the one falling the fuck apart.

  “What did he do?” Mia asked, barely loud enough to hear.

  Kylie swiped her hands across her face, as if removing the evidence of her breakdown would help anything. “N-Nothing. He just saw some pictures and a video someone posted of us tonight and he got…” She was interrupted by her own shuddering sob. “Upset.”

  “I shouldn’t have invited the guys to stay tonight. I’m sorry.” Mia’s pained expression said the apology was genuine.

  She waved her hand before using it to wipe her eyes and nose again. “It wasn’t just that. I mean, it didn’t help, but you couldn’t have known. But if anyone finds out they stayed then…” God. She didn’t even want to think about what the media would say. Or how it would affect Trace. Or poor Steven. She was hazardous to everyone apparently.

  She took the Kleenex Lily had pulled from the dispenser on the bathroom sink. Looking up into their worried sympathetic faces, she felt pathetic. She’d become the lovesick friend crying over a man. Dreams do come true.

  “Was he drinking?”

  Kylie felt her nerves prickling at Mia’s question. But it was a fair one. She did her best to shrug. “I think so.”

  “Did he break up with you?” Lily asked, her eyes becoming moist as if this really mattered to her.

  The words seared a hole into her chest. Because she didn’t know the answer. She blew her nose into the Kleenex. “I don’t know. He didn’t say that exactly, but he was mad. Like, raging mad.” And drunk. And he’s not answering my calls, she thought but didn’t say out loud. “Go back to bed. I’m fine. I’m going to get cleaned up and get some rest.” She stood, thankful that they nodded and turned to leave. But she wasn’t fine. Nowhere near it actually.

  “KYLIE, just call Cora and have her release a statement saying you have the flu and had a bad reaction to the medicine.” Mia was steering her away from the stage. She’d bombed. Bad. Her first few songs had gone okay. Then she’d gotten distracted by a guy in a blue plaid shirt in the crowd and whiffed on her own lyrics. “Me and Lily will close together. You’ve done it for us, we can do it for you.”

  “I-I’m okay. I’m fine.” She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans. Nothing. Not a single call or ‘I’m sorry’ text from him. Just their faces pressed together in the picture she’d taken the night of their date in Atlanta.

  “You keep saying that. But you’re one of the best performers I’ve ever seen. I say that because it’s true. I don’t even fucking like you, so I won’t bother lying to make you feel better. You were a robot out there. Or a zombie. Or a zombie robot. Shit, I don’t know, but that was bad.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She sighed. Why wouldn’t he just freaking call already? Couples fought. It was a part of life. But she had some things to say, dammit. And she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else until she said them. She dialed his number again and it went straight to voicemail.

  Mia snatched her phone away. “Look, I’m going to give you a pass this one time. Because I’ve been there and a broken heart sucks. But tomorrow night, in Nashville, you need to suck it up and get yourself together. Okay?”

  Her hand flew to her chest without her even meaning for it to. Was her heart broken? Dull ache? Check. Sickening stomach-plummeting feeling every time she thought about his hateful words on the phone? Check. Dizziness and nausea when she considered the many horrific things that could’ve happened between him and Gretchen when he was drunk last night? Check. Okay, maybe Mia was onto something.

  She felt the corners of her mouth turning down. “I don’t want to be this girl,” she choked out over the lump in her throat. The sympathy in Mia’s eyes was too much so she closed her own.

  “Shh, I know. I know you don’t. Just go back to the bus and get some rest.”

  “How did this happen to me?” Suddenly it seemed like Mia had all the answers.

  The brunette bit her lip and nodded to someone over Kylie’s head. “You fell in love. Love is a mean bastard. That’s precisely why I avoid it.”

  She would’ve laughed if it weren’t such a painful truth. “I don’t know if he’s in love back, you know? Maybe it’s just me.”

  Mia sighed. “I have to go on stage. Like now. But listen, I doubt he would’ve been all that upset last night if he didn’t care about you. Hell, anyone with a pair of eyes can tell he cares about you. But sometimes that’s just not enough.” The girl’s intense gaze met hers. She stared hard for a second as if she wanted to make sure her words were getting through. “You need to ask yourself how important this relationship really is to you. Because from what I’ve seen these past few months, loving Trace Corbin might cost you your career. Your dream.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. It stabbed at her already aching chest. “I can’t argue with that, which is saying something.” She tried to force a laugh, but with the knot wedged in her throat, it came out sounding strange. “But I don’t know if I can let him go. In fact, I’m almost positive I can’t. I tried once before.”

  Mia sighed and cocked her head. “Why not? I mean, what’s so great about him? Really?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment as she contemplated her answer. He wasn’t perfect. But neither wa
s she. She almost smiled as she pictured herself in his arms in Macon. “You know that feeling, when you’ve had the worst day of your life and it seems like the universe is out to get you? And then you get home and as soon as you walk through the door it’s like you’re shutting all of that out? The heavens smile on you and you get all cozy in the tub or bed or whatever and all that bad stuff just melts away? ‘Cause you’re in your safe place?”

  Kylie opened her eyes and watched as Mia’s brow scrunched in response. “Yeah? So?”

  Tears clouded her vision. “That’s what being with Trace is for me.”

  IT was as if his internal clock was programmed to her. He knew exactly when it was seven and she’d be taking the stage. She’d be looking for him. Expecting to see him in the crowd. She wasn’t even mad at him anymore. Her two dozen voicemails said as much. But he was. He was downright fucking furious at himself.

  He was going to miss her last show. Not because he wanted to. More like because he had to. If he went there, if he saw her up on stage, he’d talk himself out of what he’d decided. What he’d promised Gretchen and what he knew he had to do.

  Walking into The Rum Room was damn near painful. But this was where it had started, so this was where it should end. He didn’t see the owner anywhere, for which he was grateful. He wasn’t in the mood for talking. Not any more than necessary anyways. He skirted the dance floor and lowered himself into the private booth in the back. It took ten minutes for a waitress to come take his drink order. Thankfully it wasn’t the friend of Kylie’s who worked there. He ordered his bourbon from the perky bottle blonde and waited for the angry call to come.

  Glancing up at the wall beside him he saw the picture of them on stage the first night they’d met. Seeing her lit up like that, knowing he’d been what made her feel alive that night, was a sucker punch to the gut. Because after that night, he’d been the one to drag her back down. The media outlets were having a field day dissecting her bombed show last night. Drug use, illness, and pregnancy had all been mentioned. He didn’t have to speculate on the cause. He knew exactly what her problem was. Him.

  He was on his fourth drink when his phone finally lit up with her face. Or it might’ve been his fifth. He wasn’t in the mood to count. God, he loved that face. It was slightly blurry. Maybe his screen needed wiping off.

  “Hey.”

  “Trace? Where are you? Is everything okay?” She didn’t even sound mad. She sounded…worried. Concerned. He didn’t deserve her. He never had. He emptied his glass, savoring the burn as it went down.

  “I’m at The Rum Room, Kylie Lou. Can you come meet me? We need to talk.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Panic rushed her words out. He wanted to tell her to take her time. Not to get there too soon because he needed more time.

  The waitress sat another glass down. This was supposed to be to take the edge off. A farewell drink or two. Oh well. He was going down. Might as well go down in flames of fucking glory.

  He pulled off the trucker hat he was wearing and sat it on the table. His full glass of bourbon sat untouched in front of him. He’d tried. He’d tried so damn hard. But every day was like being forced over a cliff and having to dig his way back to the top with his fingernails. Every. Damn. Day. He couldn’t do this on his own. Not long term. So when Gretchen had said she was ready to get help, he’d known deep down she wasn’t the only one.

  He had to save Kylie from himself before he took her down with him. She was about to break out and be huge. It was already happening. She was already on the radio, in the tabloids, and a local well-known. Soon she’d be nationally well-known and then global probably. But not if she didn’t unhitch herself from him. Before it was too late.

  He felt her presence before he actually saw her.

  “Trace?” Her voice shook with the promise of tears. “What’s going on?”

  He looked up at his pretty girl. She had on the same red dress she’d worn on their date. He loved that dress. Loved the girl in it even more. Knew she loved him too, loved him enough to let him rake her through the murky pit of hell he was about to drag himself through. “Sit.” He nodded at the seat across from him, watching her every move as she slid into it.

  He wrapped his hands around his glass.

  “You’ve been drinking,” she said quietly. The band began warming up on stage, and between that and the ringing in his ears, he could barely hear her.

  “Yeah. I have.” He cleared his throat and looked up into her wide blue eyes. Mistake. Her pain was pouring straight out of them.

  “Okay, well let’s go back to my place and we can call Dr. Reynolds.”

  “I already called him.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sorry I missed your show.” He really wanted to down the drink in front of him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it in front of her. He was already about to hurt her bad enough as it was.

  “It’s okay.” Now her eyes held a sadness that made him sick of himself.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Trace, right now, I don’t give a damn about the show. The tour’s over. Right now I’m worried about you. Please talk to me. What did Dr. Reynolds say?” She was practically pleading with him. This from a girl who didn’t beg. This is what you reduce her to. He didn’t want to drag this out. But saying what he had to felt like plunging his own fist into his chest and yanking his heart out with his bare hands.

  “I’ve got some….things I need to deal with. On my own. Alone.” He squeezed his eyes shut, but not quick enough. Not before he saw the shadow that passed across her face.

  “Trace, what are you talking about? Did I do something? I don’t underst—”

  “No. Stop, just stop. Just let me get this out, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “When I saw those pictures of you and Steven—”

  “Oh my God.” She huffed out a breath. “Seriously? If you would’ve answered your phone, I would’ve told you we were—”

  “For fuck’s sakes, Kylie. Just listen for once in your damned life.” He wanted to hit something. He grabbed the glass and downed its contents in one swallow.

  “I’m listening,” she whispered, her eyes going even wider at the sight of him becoming belligerent. Yeah, this is me. Be glad you’re getting out while you still can.

  He exhaled harshly through his nose. “Those pictures made me think. Not that I necessarily want you with Steve, but at least he’s not a drunk. If he says he’ll be at your show, he’ll be there. Me, not so much.” He forced himself to shrug like missing her show wasn’t that important to him. Even though it was the absolute worst thing he’d ever done. Which was saying something. Letting her down was the one thing he never wanted to do. And yet, he was pretty sure this was only the beginning. Unless he came clean. Now. “See, I can’t promise you shit, Kylie. I can’t promise you tomorrow. Or next week, or next month. I never know when I’m going to give in to the urge to drink. I’ve been fighting it—well, failing at fighting it—for the past few months and I’ve been miserable.”

  “You’ve been miserable?” Her voice was small and it quivered over the last word. Shit. She thought she’d made him miserable.

  He didn’t know how to explain what he actually meant so he rushed on. “It’s just been…harder than I expected. And frankly, I’m doing you a favor. You deserve better than this. I’m checking into a rehab facility in Dallas. Tonight.”

  She took a deep breath and he thought he saw relief on her face. “Oh, well, okay. Babe, if that’s what you need to do, then I completely understand. Surely the label will realize that—”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the label. That’s not why I’m doing this. I just…need to work on me right now. And you need to concentrate on your music, on your career. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  She shook her head. “Are you…breaking up with me?”

  The pain in her voice was too much. He signaled the waitress for another as the band began blaring out a song about a
woman loving her man as much as Jesus did. Excellent timing. Nothing like a song about unconditional love while you shattered someone’s heart to hell and back. “We went on one date, Kylie. I don’t think I have to break up with you.”

  “Don’t do this.” Her bottom lip trembled. Damn. He should’ve kissed her one more time first. Long and hard and deep so he’d have the memory to hold on to.

  “You’re young. All of your dreams are about to come true. You don’t need to be linked to me while the media—”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the media,” she said, throwing his words back at him full force.

  “Settle down,” he said as the waitress approached with his drink.

  Kylie whipped her head to the side and glared at the blonde. “Do not bring another goddamned drink to this table or I will tell Clive to fire your ass right this minute.” The woman’s face went slack, and she turned and walked away with his drink.

  He shook his head. She couldn’t spend her life saving him from himself. “Listen, I know—”

  “Please don’t do this. This isn’t you. You don’t mean any of this. You’ve been drinking. Tomorrow, when you wake up, you’ll—”

  “Be in a rehab facility in Dallas. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Move on with your life, Kylie Lou. Enjoy being nineteen. Enjoy making it big in country music like you’ve always dreamed of doing. Don’t think about me or worry about me. I can’t have a phone or a computer so it’s not like we’d be able to keep in touch.”

  “But there’ll be visiting days and stuff, right?” Tears filled her eyes. He felt like he was drowning in the deep blue pools.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. I don’t want you visiting me in fucking rehab. I don’t want them posting pictures all over the damned Internet about you and your loser boyfriend.”

  “Since when do we care what they say?”