Authors: Alison Packard
Drew set his two
guitar cases down on the carpeted floor and tried not to be
impressed. It wasn’t a suite, but it was probably the largest and
most luxurious hotel room he’d ever stayed in. “Are you sure I’m
in the right room?” he asked, and looked at Wally, who’d met him
at the hotel registration desk and escorted him to the room.
“Yep.” Wally
nodded, as he set Drew’s army green duffle bag down next to the
guitars. “Feel free to order room service any time you like. We’re
picking up the tab for everything.”
“I promise not to go
hog wild,” Drew said, as he moved to the window and stared out at
the Las Vegas strip. He shook his head as he saw a taxi cab cut in
front of another driver. He’d noticed on the drive from the airport
that the cab drivers ruled the road and were as daring as any race
car driver. “When’s rehearsal?” he asked, turning from the
window.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Same set list?”
Drew asked, as he fiddled with the leather bracelet around his wrist.
He’d see Jessie tomorrow. Just thinking about it had him all wired
up.
“Pretty much.”
Wally motioned to a large white envelope sitting atop the nightstand
next to the king-sized bed. “The set list is in there. We’re a
well-oiled machine at this point in the tour, and since you’re a
better guitar player than Kenny, and you’ve played with the band in
the past, I don’t think the change is going to affect the show.”
“Wait.” Drew raised
a hand. “You think
I’m
better than Kenny Lassiter?”
“Son, you’re one of
the best young guns in Nashville.” Wally cocked his head and looked
at him like he was crazy. “I thought you knew that.”
No. He didn’t know
that. One of the most revered guitarists in the business had taught
him how to play, and because of that, he was good. But one of the
best? He wasn’t
that
over-confident. Also, his attempt at a solo career had stalled out
months ago, and it’d been hell trying to get it started again. That
fact didn’t lend itself to illusions of greatness.
“You mean as a tour
guitarist, right?”
“I mean as a
guitarist and vocalist,” Wally said, matter-of-factly. “Why
Garrett Shaw pretty much said as much the last time I talked to him.
In fact, he mentioned that he was going to talk to someone at his
label. Garrett tells me they’ve got their eye out for fresh new
talent, and he seems to think you’re the real deal.”
Drew’s jaw dropped.
The biggest news in Nashville last week was that Garrett Shaw was
working on a new album with original material. Garrett, a damn fine
singer, and an even better guitarist, was a regular at the MC Saloon,
and he was one of the major investors in Full Moon Records, a new
label that had recently signed several promising new artists.
Drew had played
alongside him several times at the MC and at the iconic Bluebird
Cafe. Although Garrett was a legend in Tennessee, the coolest thing
about him was he never
acted
like he was a legend. He was one of those salt-of-the-earth types who
never had a bad word to say about anyone. Drew had never asked him
for help —he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of Garrett’s
friendship, just as he’d never taken advantage of his own family
heritage— and now to find out that Garrett thought so highly of him
that he was going to recommend him to the head of his label?
Fucking
unbelievable.
“Cat got your tongue,
son?” Wally asked, as he let out a hearty laugh. “You know, I’m
gonna mention to Jessie that you two should do a duet. Y’all
sounded real good the night you sang together at the MC.”
“That wasn’t
planned,” he said quickly.
“I know. I reckon
that’s why it took me by surprise. Your voices blend well, and
since Kenny’s laid up, you can sub for him on the duet that he and
Jessie perform near the end of the show. Only thing is, I have a
different song in mind, it’s on the retro side, but after seeing
the chemistry between y’all at the MC, I’m thinking it’ll go
over big.” Wally glanced at the envelope on the nightstand. “You’ll
find it in there with the set list and charts.”
Drew shook his head. “I
don’t think Jessie’s gonna go for that.”
Wally’s bushy brows,
as snowy white as his thick shock of hair, drew together. “Okay.
That’s it. I’m tired of pussyfootin’ around the subject.”
Wally scowled at him. “What in tarnation’s going on between you
two?”
Drew shoved his hands
into the front pocket of his jeans and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“That’s exactly
what she said!” Wally pointed at him, exasperation evident in his
beleaguered expression. “And I don’t believe either one of you.
For the first time since I’ve known that little girl, she finally
seemed to find a true friend in you. But now it seems you’re not
even on speaking terms. What gives?”
“With all due
respect, I think that’s between me and Jessie.”
“Well, whatever it
is. You both need to suck it up and act like the professionals you
are. We’ve all got a lot ridin’ on this tour, especially Jessie.
She’s under a lot of pressure from her label. So please don’t let
her down.”
“I won’t,” Drew promised, but
it was a lie. He’d already let her down by sleeping with Hannah and
then letting Jessie believe he’d gotten back together with her. And
now, they were both paying the price.
At eleven the next
morning, Jessie groaned as she surveyed the massive amount of
clothing strewn all over the bed. It was a rehearsal, just a stupid
rehearsal, and here she was worried about what to wear. This
indecision wasn’t like her. The only time she worried about her
wardrobe was on show nights. But not today. No, like some adolescent
teenager, she was more concerned about wearing something that would
knock Drew’s socks off, than she was about comfort.
A cursory glance at the
clock on the nightstand told her she only had twenty-five minutes to
get her ass down to the arena. She had to pick something to wear or
she’d be late.
“Decide, damn it,”
she muttered, as she stared at the mound of clothing.
Oh
hell.
She’d rather be
comfortable when she saw Drew for the first time in four months than
stuffed into some outfit so tight she couldn’t breathe. With quick
movements, she stripped off her robe and reached for her favorite
pair of jeans and a turquoise top.
Twenty minutes later,
she accompanied Wally and her bodyguard, John, through the back
entrance to the stage. The Grand Garden Arena was one of her favorite
venues, and was the reason why she’d chosen it when CMT approached
her about taping one of the concerts on her
Hearts
on Fire
tour.
“Don’t forget,
tonight you have a meet-and-greet with the fans who won the radio
contest,” Wally said as he matched her step for step.
They rounded the corner
and headed towards the stairs that led up to the stage. The stage
Drew was probably on right now. Her stomach churned as they halted at
the bottom of the stairs.
“I can’t wait to
meet them in person.” Jessie forgot about Drew for a moment and
smiled, genuinely excited to meet her fans. “I loved all those
videos they made for the contest. Can we give them a little something
extra?”
“Like a T-shirt? Or a
free download of your album?”
“They already have my
album.” She bit her lower lip and tried to think of something
special. Something that didn’t scream self-promotion. “How about
a gift card for the hotel’s spa? They can use it to get a massage
or mani/pedi.”
“Great idea. I’ll
get on it right away.” He grabbed her arm as she put her foot on
the first step. “By the way, you’ll be doing the duet like
usual.”
“Has Kenny made some
sort of miraculous recovery?” she asked in surprise as she pivoted
toward him. “Don’t tell me you’re going to wheel him out on
stage to sing with me?”
“I’m not talking
about Kenny, I’m talking about Drew. You have plenty of time to
rehearse, and I found the perfect song. Remember that old song “You
and I” by Eddie Rabbit and Crystal Gayle?”
Of course she did. The
song was a classic, and one of her favorite oldies. But sing a love
song with Drew? No. That wouldn’t be happening. No way. No how. Not
ever again.
She shook her head and
rested her hand on the metal banister. “I’ve never sung that song
in front of an audience before, and I doubt Drew has either.”
“I gave him the sheet
music when he checked in. He’s a quick study.”
“I don’t think so,
Wally. We’ll be fine without the duet. I don’t want to give the
fans some half-assed version of something because we don’t have
time to rehearse.”
“There’s more than enough time,”
Wally persisted. “I think you should do it. It’s a great song and
it’ll showcase your vulnerable side. And as good of a vocalist as
Kenny is, Drew’s voice is much better suited to that song. Think
about it. It could be a showstopper.”
Without even seeing
her, Drew sensed that Jessie had taken the stage. One second he was
talking to Jimmy, the band’s bassist, and the next, he was aware of
her in every pore of his body. Then he heard her as she greeted Tara
and Renee, her back-up singers. Her silky voice, laced with just a
hint of Mississippi twang, heightened his pulse. He turned, and for
the first time in four long months, he laid eyes on Jessie Grant. In
the flesh.
God almighty, she was
something. Taller than average, her luscious curves were showcased to
perfection in the faded jeans and simple blue top she wore. Her long
hair, the color of rich, decadent chocolate, fell down her back in
tousled waves of dark silk that tempted him to touch it. She was the
most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. A spike of heat hit him in low
in his gut as he let his gaze wander over her heart-shaped face. She
hadn’t seen or acknowledged him yet, but instinct told him she was
just as aware of him as he was of her.
One of the roadies
approached her to help her with her in-ear monitors. His throat
tightened as he remembered doing that for her on a few occasions; of
standing behind her and helping her with the wires. One time, her
sexier-than hell-dress had been unzipped, revealing her smooth,
supple back. He remembered the softness of her skin, and her
intoxicating scent as he fumbled with the wires. Standing that close
to her had been a cross between heaven and hell. Heaven, because
everything about her turned him on, and hell, because, at the time,
he’d convinced himself that friendship was all he could offer her.
Jealousy sliced through
him as he watched her easy camaraderie with the roadie. Being on tour
did that, strangers became family, and some even became lifelong
friends. He and Jessie had become friends, but now they were back to
being strangers. And because he’d known friendship wasn’t
something she gave easily, not having it now was worse than anything
he could have ever imagined.
As if sensing she was
being watched, she turned and their gazes collided across the stage.
Her smile faltered as the seconds ticked by. She remained rooted to
the spot, so he moved forward. One of them had to make the first
move; it looked like it would be him.
“Hey,” he said as
he halted in front of her.
She thanked the roadie,
who smiled and left them to attend to Tara and Renee.
“Hello,” she
replied, her tone formal and her eyes guarded. “Thank you for
agreeing to help us out.”
“You’re welcome.”
He rested his arm along the top of his favorite guitar, a Fender
Strat that he’d bought when he was sixteen, after years of saving
his allowance and hoarding the money he’d earned doing odd jobs
around town.
Although his father had
made good money and left them fairly well-off after he died, his mom
always believed that he should learn the value of money. It was a
lesson he’d learned well, and to this day, he hadn’t touched one
dollar of the money his father had left him. He wanted to make
something of himself on his own terms, not because he had connections
or an inheritance.
“Wally gave me the
set list yesterday. It looks like it’s pretty much the same as
before,” he said, after an uncomfortable silence.
“For the most part.”
Jessie tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “The only
difference is, I’ve changed up the order so that some of my older
stuff is sprinkled throughout the set. Works better that way.”
He nodded. “So what
the hell happened to Kenny? Wally said he broke his arm?”
Jessie rolled her eyes.
“The damn fool decided to take a swan dive off the stage, and
because he’d had a couple of fireballs before the show, he
miscalculated how close the audience was to the stage and fell smack
dab onto the concrete floor.”
Drew gasped, equally
shocked and amused at the picture she’d painted. “Jesus. Are you
serious?”
Her lips curved upwards
with a ghost of a smile. It was something, even if it wasn’t the
usual mega-watt smile she gave him when they used to hang out
together. “It’s true. I couldn’t make something like that up.
Broke his arm in two places.”
“Ouch.” He winced,
thinking of the pain Kenny must have been in. “So he’ll be laid
up for a while?”
“Looks like it,”
she said. Then, without warning, her tone turned frosty again, and
the laughter vanished from her eyes. “Well, we should get started.
Do you feel comfortable with all the songs?”
“Yeah. I could do
them in my sleep,” he said, then frowned. “Did that sound cocky?”
“No. Just confident.”
Her unreadable eyes roamed over his face. “Wally wants us to do a
duet.”
“I know.”
He’d taken a look at
the sheet music and recognized the song immediately. Anybody who’d
ever attended a wedding in the last twenty years would probably be
aware of the hit ballad that was popular in the early ‘80s. It was
a nice song, and one that would suit his and Jessie’s harmonies to
a tee.