by Caisey Quinn
“So next week the reporter from Rolling Stone is meeting us in Connecticut. The photo shoot is at nine and he’ll be with you every minute up until the show. So be mindful of what you say, even if you’re speaking to someone else or on the phone. Pretty much everything is fair game.”
“Good morning, Hannah,” Lulu began. “Please, feel free to jump right in with the shoptalk. No need to waste time on niceties.”
Hannah’s face darkened with what appeared to be embarrassment. “Sorry. There’s just so much to cover and I realize Miss Ryans’s time is precious.”
Lulu smiled warmly at the other girl. “Very true. But I think Miss Ryans can handle it. She’s done okay so far, right?”
Kylie barely managed to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head. “I’ll try to keep my potty mouth in check. Thanks for the reminder.”
Before any of them could say anything else, the bell above the diner door chimed alerting them that new patrons had entered. Kylie glanced up and nearly spit out her black coffee when she saw Trace and Steven coming through the door at the same time.
Her face must have given her away because Lulu turned to look at what had caught her attention.
Kylie watched as Trace gave Steven a hard glare before moving aside to let him pass. Both guys joined the tables where their bands were seated without even glancing in her direction.
“You okay, Miss Ryans?” Hannah asked softly.
“What?” Kylie worked to keep her face blank. “Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. I was, um, lost in thought.”
“Bet I can guess what you were thinking about.” Lulu snickered and Kylie kicked her under the table.
“Anyway,” Hannah continued, “after the official interview, the reporter will hang around for the concert, and the review and cover will run in next month’s issue. You’re one of very few young female country artists to be featured, so keep in mind that you’re representing—”
“Hey there, pretty lady,” a male voice said. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast.”
All three girls looked up at the man standing at the edge of their booth. Kylie greeted him with a warm smile.
“No problem, Danny. I was wondering when you were going to come say hi to me.” She slid out of the booth and gave the older man from Trace’s band a hug. He gave her a firm squeeze in return and the familiar ache of missing her dad pinged through her chest.
“Well, I don’t want to upset any of your gentlemen suitors over there,” he said with a wink and a nod towards Steven and Trace. “But I did want to let you know I brought my banjo along in case you felt like singing that song you wrote.”
The lightning flashes of discomfort became thunderous vibrations of agony at the memory of the song she had written and sung about her daddy.
“Um, okay. I don’t really play that one much anymore. But thanks for letting me know.”
“Anytime, sweetheart. You ladies have a good one.” With a parting nod, he headed back towards Trace and the others.
Kylie felt the blood draining from her face. Danny was a painful reminder. A living, breathing reminder of just how much she missed her daddy. And the fact that there had only ever been one man able to soothe that painful ache rattled her even harder.
Suddenly she couldn’t swallow, and a dull ringing sound began to radiate from inside her head.
“I’m not feeling so great, y’all. I-I’m going to go lie back down on the bus for a while. Here, breakfast is on me.” She slid a black credit card towards Lulu and bolted out of the diner as quickly as she could manage without making a spectacle of herself.
A few feet outside of the diner, she heard the chime of the door a second time, but she didn’t look back to see who had followed her out. It could’ve been Lulu or Hannah or Steven. Or…someone else.
Her chest tightened and her stomach clenched at the realization that there was only one person she wanted it to be. He was the absolute last person she should want it to be. And yet…she hoped and prayed it was him.
Tears stung her eyes as she focused on making it to the bus without looking back.
The ground beneath her blurred through the moisture. She blinked in an attempt to dry it up. “Stop it. This is ridiculous,” she whispered to herself. “Grow up already.”
“You look pretty grown up to me,” his voice said from behind her.
Her entire body went rigid at the sound of his voice, but there was a part of her—a small part—that relaxed.
“I just needed some air. It was getting kind of crowded in there,” she said without turning to face him.
“Agreed,” he said low and practically in her ear.
When did he get so close?
“So, um, I’m fine. No need to escort me. I’m just going to go lie down on the bus for a while.”
“Turn around and tell me you’re fine and I’ll go.”
She swallowed and pressed her eyes shut, blinking out any remaining tears. Roughly swiping her hands beneath them to clear the evidence, she turned.
“Trace,” she said slowly. She really wished she didn’t have such an intense physiological response to the sound of his name on her lips. It was difficult to hear herself speak with her heart hammering in her ears. “I’m fine. I don’t want everyone to think I’m making some big dramatic scene and you had to console me. Go enjoy your breakfast.”
“Come on, Kylie Lou. Since when do we care what everyone thinks?” His hazel eyes gleamed in the sunlight. He even smelled light sunshine. Like a clear day on a Georgia farm. Tears threatened from the backs of her eyes once more. The urge to reach out and wrap her arms around him nearly overtook her.
Thankfully, his phone rang just as she was about to speak. Good thing, because she had no clue what the hell she had been about to say.
“Answer it,” she said softly.
He frowned at the screen, but did as she’d said. “Hey, Gretch. What’s going on?”
Kylie’s knees went weak at the sound of his girlfriend’s name. She wondered if this was how he felt about her and Steven. Then she realized it didn’t even matter. They were done. The past was the past and Gretchen was Trace’s present. And probably his future, too.
He turned slightly to the side as he spoke, just enough for Kylie to step out of his line of sight and tap on the door to the bus. The driver, Reggie, who went by Tiny—despite the fact that he was anything but—opened the door. She greeted him quickly and darted back to her room.
Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it and slid to the floor.
Everything was different. And yet the thing upsetting her most, the cold, hard fact that had a cold, hard lump wedged in her throat, was the fact that nothing had really changed.
Her daddy was still dead. She still missed him so much it was damn near debilitating. And she was still in love with the only man besides him she’d ever loved.
And she still couldn’t have him.
THE SHOW in Columbus had gone well. Lots of college kids had shown up and the crowd had been amazing. She’d successfully avoided Trace since the incident at the diner. They’d sung The Other Side of Me together without so much as making eye contact. So not a total success as far as performances went, but she’d done the best she could.
Driving past the local campus, Kylie wondered briefly what her life might have been like if she’d have gone to college. Not that she ever could’ve afforded it. But it was fun to think about what it might be like if she got to pick a major or take a class on human sexuality just for the heck of it. Or art history, or film studies. It sounded kind of exciting to her.
The only frat party she’d even been to had resulted in Trace punching Steven and carrying her out over his shoulder just before she vomited all over the place.
Maybe college wasn’t for her.
As much as she often wondered what it would be like to have a life apart of touring and music and recording, she knew she wouldn’t really have it any other way. This was her dream come true. But it was a funny thing about drea
ms.
Without someone you loved to share them with, to be proud of you, happy for you, cheering you on, achieving them felt kind of empty.
Mia often criticized her for working too hard, but she stayed busy for a reason. It was easier that way. Easier to keep at it than to sit home by her lonesome and wish for things she’d never have.
Days when things had gone terribly in the studio, or God, that time her ear piece had malfunctioned and shot feedback through her ear and she’d screwed up on the National Anthem at a hockey game, it would’ve been really nice to have had someone to come home to. Someone to wrap her in his arms and tell her it would be okay. That these things happened and that she’d get past it.
As it was, she ended days like those alone, drinking wine from a box, fighting tears so she could see to scrawl out lyrics to songs she knew she’d never sing.
Which was pretty much what she was doing on the ride to Detroit. She leaned her head against the window when they stopped for fuel.
“Knock, knock,” she heard Steven’s voice say through the door to her room.
“It’s open,” she answered, scrubbing away residual tears and pasting a wide smile on her face.
“So I heard a rumor,” he began, stepping into her room and lowering himself onto the chair across from her bed.
“Just one?” Kylie put her pen down and let it roll off her notebook.
He grinned at her. “Well, just one that concerns me.”
“Ah. Are you pregnant?”
“Not that I know of. But I could’ve sworn you said your guitar player asked for time off. According to the other guys in the band, he’s not the type to do such a thing.” Kylie didn’t respond right away so Steven continued. “Which leads me to wonder, why exactly did you ask me to come along on this tour, Ryans?”
“Aiden’s wife just had twins. You were looking for work. It seemed like the best solution for everyone,” she said quietly.
“Uh huh. For everyone? Or for you?”
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “If you don’t want to be here, Blythe, I can call Aiden and tell him he’s flying to Detroit to meet us. You’re not on contract. Feel free to leave at any time.”
Steven gave her a sad smile. She wasn’t sure, but his expression reminded her of the one people gave when they found out her dad had died. Or that Trace had dumped her for Gretchen Gibson. The pity grin. She hated it. More than anything.
“I wasn’t saying I wanted to bail on you, Ryans. Relax. I just don’t like being lied to and I don’t want to look like an idiot out here. Or a charity case. If I’m here because you needed a guitar player, then okay. If I’m here because you needed a buffer between you and Corbin, then that’s okay too. But if I’m here because you felt sorry for me or something, then I wish I would’ve turned you down. I just want you to be straight with me. I don’t feel like that’s too much to ask.”
Kylie sighed. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry I wasn’t completely upfront with you.” She glanced down at the lyrics she’d written. It was a song she’d started the day Trace had walked away from her. She didn’t know why she felt the need to finish it, but she did.
“You know you don’t have to hide stuff from me, right?” Steven asked, angling his face beneath hers so she had to look at him. “If you’re not okay, you could tell me.
“Yeah, I know. And I promise I’m fine.” She felt like she was constantly reassuring everyone of this lately. “The truth is…” She paused to gather as much courage as she possibly could. She could tell him, she knew he would understand or at least try to. She was just worried it would sound stupid out loud. So she edited it a bit. “The truth is you’re here because I needed a friend.” His expressions softened and she shrugged. “I mean, Lulu is great and I love her. She’s been my best friend forever. But sometimes I just want to hang out with someone who doesn’t know everything about me, you know? And someone who gets this business, this lifestyle. Like you.”
“I get it, I do. And honestly, your band could use some eye candy for the ladies, if you know what I’m saying.”
“If only you weren’t so modest.” She laughed as Steven leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. At the exact same moment that his lips met her skin, she heard someone clear his throat.
“Sorry. There was a fresh market stand at the last stop so I, uh, got you these because I noticed there weren’t any on the bus. I’ll put them in the kitchen.”
Kylie watched Trace take the bananas he held out of her room. She opened her mouth to thank him but he was gone before she got the words out. She shot Steven a helpless look and he shook his head.
“You’re right. You do need a friend.” He sighed as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m just not sure I’m the one you need.”
“YOU STRAIGHT?”
Trace raised his eyes to meet the ones of his bass player. “Yeah, man. I’m good.”
“Thinking about drinking?”
He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to lie. But he saw the truth in Mike’s eyes. “Yeah. Little bit.”
“Call your sponsor, Tray. Call him now. Tell him what’s going on. Or call Dr. Reynolds and tell him to meet up with us. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
He grimaced. Damn. He’d promised himself he could do this. He’d been so strong for so long, but seeing another man kiss her, even on the fucking forehead, hurt in a way he didn’t know how to heal.
So he’d been sitting backstage at her soundcheck in Detroit letting her thick voice wash over him, tearing into all those old wounds. Which was where Mike had found him looking like a kicked puppy.
Through the break in the curtain he could see her—well the back of her. A shot of bourbon sounded good about then. An entire bottle of it sounded even better. But there wasn’t a brand of liquor in the world that would douse the pain having a girl like Kylie Ryans and losing her caused.
So he took a sip from his bottle of water and listened to her voice echoing in an empty stadium.
You might wake up with a smile on your face, but you’ll reach out to find an empty space. I don’t do waking up in your arms, won’t be impressed by your smile or your charm. I’ll set your night on fire. I’m a live wire. I’m a live wire.
She shimmied over towards her guitar player and rubbed her body against his as he performed his solo. Trace forced himself to look away.
“You know,” Mike began quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you back down like this. You were always a take-what-you-want kind of guy. I admired that about you.”
Trace sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Is it? Or are you just too chicken to throw your hat in the ring because you’re afraid she won’t pick you?”
“You suck at minding your own business, you know that?”
Mike chuckled. “Yeah I know. Hey, you remember that time she hustled us all in poker?”
Trace grinned at the memory. Kylie had played the guys in his band and taken them for all they were worth when they were on tour together. None of them had complained much since she’d done a sexy little victory dance afterwards. “She didn’t hustle me, Brennen. I wasn’t playing.”
“Right,” Mike agreed. “And once again, she’s holding all the cards and you’re sitting out on the sidelines. Why is that you think?”
Before he could answer, his manager appeared.
“Okay, thanks for letting me know,” Pauly Garrett said into the phone before disconnecting the call.
“Everything okay?” Trace looked up at the man who was shaking his head.
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Well that’s a sure sign it probably is something for me to worry about.”
Pauly’s expression tensed. “Naw. You just focus on your show. Let’s try and see if you and Kylie can’t manage to look more like human beings and less like robots during your duet, shall we?”
Trace shrugged. “Maybe you should discuss that with her.
” If she wanted to rub herself against her guitarist like a cat in heat and then pretend he didn’t exist when they were singing together, that was her issue. Not much he could do about it.
“Maybe I will,” Pauly said as she came off the stage and towards them.
Trace didn’t miss the way Blythe whispered in her ear or placed his hand on the small of her back. He felt his anger rising to a dangerous level.
So this was jealousy. He wasn’t a fan of it. And it was owning his ass at the moment.
A slap on his shoulder snapped him out of his trance. “Doesn’t look all that complicated to me,” Mike said with a smirk as he stood.
“Kylie, can I have a minute?” Pauly asked, pulling her aside as she passed.
Trace didn’t listen to what was said as he made his way to his own soundcheck. But the fact that Pauly had distracted her from Steve kept a smile on his face through rehearsal.
THE CROWD screamed his name as he wrapped up his show. It felt good. Damn good. Trace handed off his guitar in preparation for his final song before his duet with Kylie.
He wasn’t sure what Pauly had said to her earlier and he hadn’t seen her since. Her show had gone well as far as he knew. He’d missed it because he’d been warming up for his own performance and taking pictures with some fans. He hoped whatever his manager had said had gotten through to her and that she would at least look at him when they sang together tonight.
The two girls who had been hired to dance on the “tailgate” the stage had been made into during Rock It On My Tailgate were conspicuously absent as he sang the opening lyrics. Alexis and Camilla were twenty-two-year-old twins and professional dancers. Mike had taken to calling them the Tailgate Twins.
He hit the first chorus and the audience went wild. Even wilder than usual. That was unexpected. Everyone in the crowd held up camera phones and people were shouting and pointing behind him. He turned as he sang but the sight behind him nearly stopped his ability to breathe, much less sing.
