Hillbilly Rockstar (14 page)

"He'll hate me. I met his ex-wife last week. He'll say I'm a liar, like her. I don't know what to do." Lisa paused in her venting as their waiter brought their salads and drinks to the table. After assuring him all was fine, he left them alone.

"When does the show end?" Tanya asked, taking a bite of her chicken and strawberry salad.

"Another six weeks. But I won't be working for Boyd Waters anymore in two. I'll be a full-time manager."

"So keep it up. He'll never know you weren't a manager at Cahill-Waters. When you start working full-time, tell him you became a consultant there and your term had ended. That's pretty much the truth."

"That's a doublewide stretching of the truth." Lisa sipped her sweet tea.  

"Whatever." Tanya rolled her eyes, gestured with her hand, still holding her fork. "If you love him, then keep doing what you're doing. It will be true in two weeks anyway."

Lisa ate her salad and stayed quiet for a moment. It sounded like a good plan, and Tanya was right about one thing -- everything she was lying about now would be true in two weeks. Goodbye secretary -- hello manager.

"You win. I'll trust him and believe in what is happening between us. And you're right, there's not a reason for him to know, not when I won't be working there anymore."

"This is why I like having lunch with you. I tell you things you already know, and you pay for my lunch." Tanya joked.

Lisa laughed, feeling lighter. It helped getting her conflicting feelings into the open. She settled into the truth of her feelings for Trace and resolved to let whatever happens, happen.

###

"What do you mean he's out of town?" Trixie stood at the reception desk at Cahill-Waters, ready to throttle Ellen if she told her Boyd was gone again.

"I mean he's gone until Friday. He's meeting clients out of town. And no, I can't call him or leave a message or anything else." Ellen was also standing, almost nose to nose with Trixie. She was standing her ground, and Trixie had to respect that.

She thought a moment, and an even better idea sprouted into her fertile mind. "Okay, then. I'll come back Friday. When does he usually leave the office?"

"It varies, but he's worked as late as seven or eight. Why?"

"I just need to speak to him, that's all." Trixie fingered the beaded trim on her shirt. She needed more clothes. Good thing she'd have the money soon. "See ya." She waved to Ellen and turned back to the elevators, entering one as the doors opened.

"Hey, you owe me ten dollars for those drinks the other night," Ellen called after her.

Trixie's answer was a raised middle finger. She watched Ellen's face turn red as the elevator doors closed between them.

Chapter Seventeen

Friday evening Trixie put her plan into motion. If it all went well, Trace would give her any amount of money she asked for and Lisa would be found out for the liar she was.

She waited near the front door of Cahill-Waters, careful to stay out of sight of security. They'd already hounded her once, said she was loitering. No, she was waiting, she'd said, but moved on anyway when they weren't going for it. It was just after six when Boyd Waters stepped out of the building and towards a car waiting at the curb.

"Mr. Waters," Trixie called out.

He looked around, then caught her eye as she continued walking towards him. She noticed his frown, the way his eyes scanned her clothes, the judgment on his face. Yeah, judge all you want. You know you'd take it if it was offered.  

"Young lady, I don't know how you know my name, but I'm not giving you a recording contract, money, or anything else." He opened the door to the car, started to climb in.

"Lisa Jenkins works for you, right? As a manager? I want to complain."

He froze, exactly as Trixie knew that he would. He turned, stared, his eyes cold. "What did you say?"

"Lisa Jenkins, she works for you, right?"

"Yes, she works here but she's a secretary. Why do you assume she's a manager?"

"She's claiming to be Trace Harper's manager, and the rumor is they're also seeing each other."

"We dropped Trace Harper months ago." Boyd tossed his binder and briefcase on the seat, then slammed the car door. "Lisa confirmed it."

"And who let Mr. Harper know?" Trixie waited for everything to click in his head.

"Miss Jenkins did, of course." Trixie watched his expression change. It was like a light bulb had been flicked on

"Trace is performing on a reality show tomorrow night. Lisa is usually there on taping nights. Have you seen it? He's been on the show for two weeks."

"No, I don't watch television. When we dropped him, or rather believed we'd dropped him, I stopped following his career, if you could call it a career. He was bad news for my company, bad publicity."

"I totally agree." Trixie stepped up to him and touched his arm, ignoring the frown. "Come to the taping tomorrow night. You can see for yourself."

"Why don't I just ask her next week when she comes to work? Or call her right now?" Boyd took out his cell phone, starting scrolling through contacts.

Trixie touched his hand, stilling him. "Won't it be a lot more fun this way? And besides, if you wait till next week, she'll have fake paperwork ready to show you. She might already have it made, just waiting for the right time. She'll lie about everything. But if you see her there, or see her with Trace, she can't hide."

"Possibly." Boyd wrinkled his nose as he frowned. "I don't like subterfuge, young lady. But you may be right about this. I'll come with you tomorrow night."

"Wonderful." Trixie handed him a slip of paper. "Here's the address for the taping. Be there early if you can. They start performing and taping about seven-thirty. You'll see her there."

Trixie spun on her pink high heels, walking back the way she'd come. She waved at Boyd before heading down the street towards her car. "Have a great weekend," she called before disappearing in the crowd.

###

Trace stood backstage, waiting while Molly Sims finished her song. She received a standing ovation and took a half-dozen bows before leaving the stage. Her smile shone bright as the spotlight in front of her. He could feel happiness radiating from her.  

"Great job, Molly," Trace said as she passed him.

"Thank you," she said, then blushed a bright red before hurrying toward her dressing room. Trace chucked at himself. He still had the power to make young girls blush. There was only one girl in particular he enjoyed making blush, but she hadn't shown up yet. Wonder why? The show was almost over.

One of the stage hands tapped him on the shoulder when he was introduced. He had been caught up in wondering about Lisa he hadn't heard the cue.

He stepped onstage into the pool of white light and began reading his lines from the teleprompter. The lights were too bright, the crowd too dense. If Lisa was there, he'd never be able to see her in the audience, even in the front row.

He continued through the show, performer after performer, then he and Michelle repeated the instructions so viewers could vote for their favorite contestant. It wasn't until the director cut and they stopped taping did he see Lisa standing offstage, waiting for him, wearing his favorite green dress and her cowboy boots.

"Hey, you." He greeted her with a kiss.

"Hey, yourself. You did well out there."

"Thanks." He draped an arm around her shoulder and they started to walk down the hall when two people stepped in front of them, blocking the way.

###

"Mr. Waters, what are you doing here?" Lisa asked, her voice cracking.

"Trixie, what are you doing here?" Trace asked his ex-wife, standing behind Boyd.

"I might ask you the same thing, Miss Jenkins. Mr. Harper, I'm sorry to have to meet you this way, but you've been a victim of a fraud."

"Fraud? What are you talking about? And why is Trixie here?"

"This --" Boyd paused before continuing "-- lady has told me some disturbing information. Has Miss Jenkins told you she is a manager at my firm?"

"Well, yes. She told me that she took Charlie's place after he died."

"No, I never said that." Lisa stopped Trace before he could say anything else. "I have a copy of the contract Trace signed. It doesn’t say anything about being represented by Cahill-Waters. It states that he's represented by me, and me alone."

"What are you talking about? Patrick said you worked with Charlie, you took his place." Trace removed his arm, stepping back to look at her. "He called you when I accepted the show."

"Patrick made a mistake. He assumed I was a manager because I did work with Charlie. Before he died, he was planning to promote me, but Mr. Waters refused to go through with the promotion. When Patrick called, I went along with what he assumed."

Lisa took his arm, looked up into his eyes. "Trace, you'd been dropped. This man, Boyd Waters, dropped you." She pointed at Boyd, standing in the hallway, his arms crossed over his wide chest. "I went to Six Guns to tell you in person since I couldn’t get you on the phone or through Patrick. But then all this happened and I went with it."

"So you didn't take Charlie's place as a manager?" He shrugged her arm away. Lisa could feel his temper rising. She hated being the cause.

"No, I didn't. When Charlie died, his clients were either dropped or transferred to other managers. You got dropped. I never sent you the letter, and when Patrick assumed I was a manager I wrote up the contracts for myself, as a freelancer. Then I put in my notice there so I could manage you and Molly and any other clients full-time. I have two weeks left."

"You don't have to worry about that detail any longer, Miss Jenkins. Consider yourself terminated." Boyd interrupted.

Lisa ignored Boyd and kept staring into Trace's brown eyes. "I didn't do this to hurt you. Please believe that."

"So you were using me? Is that it? Was it the money? I guess the sex just sweetened the pot, huh?" Trace took another step back and stood against the wall. "So you just wanted money from me too?"

"Trace, the only money I've gotten from you is the fifteen percent detailed in the contract. I used that money to start my own company. I admit I let you assume that I worked for Cahill-Waters as a manager. I did let him assume," she said, looking over at her boss. "But I never actually said I represented Cahill-Waters as a manager. I didn't defraud anyone."

"You lied to me, you used me. You're as bad as she is." Trace pointed at Trixie, ignoring her wide-eyed stare in response to his accusation. "I fell in love with you, and you stabbed me in the back."

He loved her?

"Trace, I love you too." Lisa stepped closer to him, wanting to go to him, hold on to him and beg him to listen, to believe her. "I didn't plan on any of this. I just went along with what Patrick already thought and decided it was a good idea, so why not go all the way with it and set everything up as a business. I never meant to hurt you."

"Too late for that now. You're fired. Sue me if you want." Trace stormed away down the hall, pushing past people that had gathered in the hall to watch the argument. He left Lisa with a smiling Trixie and an angry Boyd Waters.

"Miss Jenkins, I'll messenger you any personal items in your desk. You are not to return to Cahill-Waters for any reason. My legal team needs copies of your contract with Mr. Harper. We need to be sure that the contract is legal and binding. If not, this could set Cahill-Waters in a negative light. Do you understand?"

Lisa nodded. She couldn't speak, couldn't get in enough air to make a sound. Her chest tightened, as if someone wound a watch too tight and the spring was close to breaking.  

"You'll be paid what you're due as of today. Your final check will also be messengered to you. I hope you haven't ruined my company, Miss Jenkins." Boyd turned and stomped down the hallway to an exit.

Trixie, however, stayed.

"What do you want?" Lisa asked, realizing the woman was still there.

"So how does it feel to be pushed aside? Never figured he'd find out, did you?"

"So you're behind this. How did you find out my real position with Cahill-Waters?"

"Ellen is so helpful. She's a wonderful receptionist. She's even more helpful when there's a little bonus involved. She's willing to tell Mr. Waters everything she knows too. She doesn't like you, but I don't know why." Trixie took a step back, looked Lisa over. "I think it's your boobs. She's jealous." Trixie smiled, but it didn't meet her eyes.

"Ellen gave me away. I should have known." Lisa wanted to find a chair to sink into, something large and soft and comfortable as a cloud. She wanted to sink into that chair and fall through, never to be seen again. She felt dizzy, lightheaded, as she groped toward a plastic chair set against the wall. She wanted to be alone.

"Goodbye, Trixie." Lisa dropped into the chair and lowered her head. She couldn’t faint. Not here, not now. She wanted Trace, she wanted things to be like they were before. But it was a lost cause. He saw her as a liar and cheat, exactly like Trixie, and nothing short of a miracle would change his mind.

Chapter Eighteen

Trace slammed the door to his dressing room open, walked through, then slammed it shut again. The doorframe shook a framed picture fell, breaking the glass.

"Dammit," he screamed, and punched the wall, leaving a good-sized dent in the drywall, skinning his knuckles and covering the wall with a thin smear of blood. "Damn woman. How could you lie to me?" He didn't care who heard him.

She was exactly like Trixie. Exactly, except savvier, more cunning where Trixie was a more outright thief and blackmailer. He stalked in a circle, yelling her faults out loud to an empty room. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the mortgage on his grandparents' house, not the show. She'd made him believe again, hope again. And look where that got him.

He heard a knock at his door. "Go away," he yelled.

"It's Trixie, Sugar."

"I don't give a damn who it is. I said go away." Trace yelled again, this time punching the door for emphasis. But instead of leaving, Trixie opened the door and stepped inside, leaning against the doorjamb.