Wishing On A Star (A Shooting Stars Novel Book 3)

by Terri Osburn

  A new tactic he hadn’t expected. “I might have believed that two years ago,” he admitted, the confession bitter on his tongue. “But we both know it’s a lie.”

  The three of them—Clay, Tony, and Joanna—had gone from struggling nobodies to influential industry leaders together. They’d been the three musketeers from the moment Tony had picked her up in a small-town diner nearly twenty years ago. He and Clay had been headed to Nashville to chase a dream, and the pretty blonde with a quick wit had jumped at the chance to join them. From the moment she’d stepped into their lives, she and Tony had been inseparable. Any claims that she’d been secretly in love with Clay were utter bullshit.

  “You loved me,” she insisted, her voice shrill. “Don’t deny it.”

  Love had never played a part in their relationship. Lust, yes. But not love.

  “Tony loves you, Joanna. He always has. Do us both a favor and let it go.”

  Silence loomed, and Clay waited for the click that would signify the end of this pointless farce. But he wasn’t that lucky.

  “You’ll regret this, Clayton. I’ll make sure of that.”

  The line went dead, and Clay sighed as he tossed the cell onto his desk. Running a hand through his hair, he spun the leather chair to stare out his office window onto the patch of greenery beyond. When he and Tony had first started Foxfire Records, they’d barely been able to afford the small rental house on 17th Avenue where they’d shared an office view of two ancient Dumpsters. Now he had his own label with a corner office and a beautiful view. Could Joanna take that away from him?

  Revealing their affair would damage Clay’s reputation, but he wasn’t the first executive to commit such an offense. A few invitations might mysteriously stop arriving, but his business would be secure. The real victim would be Tony. Could Joanna do that to her husband? Would she chance Tony divorcing her just to get back at Clay for having the nerve to tell her no?

  Sadly, he believed she would. And short of traveling back in time to correct his mistakes, there was nothing Clay could do about it.

  He couldn’t believe she didn’t come back.

  Ash knew how badly Jesse wanted this dream. How hard she’d worked. Without him signing on, Clay might never have found a producer willing to work with her. At least not one worth hiring. For that reason alone, Ash had sat on his porch for thirty minutes, expecting to see her Jeep pull back into the drive. So they’d had a fight. Disagreeing on her choice of boyfriend wasn’t enough to derail the entire project.

  Or it shouldn’t have been anyway.

  He didn’t regret pushing her to stand up for herself, but he’d pushed too hard. Jesse wasn’t his to protect anymore. Who she chose to date wasn’t his call. But damn it, Ryan Dimitri was a scumbag, and everyone in this town knew it.

  Except for Jesse.

  Then again, maybe she did. Maybe that’s why she’d gotten so defensive. Ash hoped that wasn’t the case, because knowing she was choosing to stay in a bad situation was even worse than believing she was being duped by a professional cheater.

  “You’re early,” his mom whispered as Ash strolled into the daycare center, careful not to wake the sleeping toddlers. “I didn’t expect you for another hour.”

  He’d hunted for distractions at home, something to keep him from going in search of Jesse. Not that he knew where to look. He debated calling the label to see if she’d gone there, but the last thing they needed was for Clay to hear about this. Jesse may have been angry, but she wasn’t stupid. Telling the label head that she needed a new producer after only one day would be career suicide.

  “My day ended earlier than expected,” he said, lowering himself into one of the tiny preschool chairs. “Who called out this time?”

  Kathleen Shepherd pursed her lips and softly tapped a pen against the clipboard in her lap. “Marlene’s grandmother fell again. I’m afraid they’ll have to put her in a home for sure now. It’s the third fall in two months, and it looks like a broken hip this time.”

  Ash grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she going to be okay?”

  “They took her to Vanderbilt so she’s in good hands, but Marlene was a wreck on the phone. With both her parents gone, Ms. Louise is all she has left.”

  The statement reminded him of the song he and Jesse had been working on before the blow up. They’d been close to finishing, and he’d already had an arrangement in his head. “Sweet Evie May” would never be a single, but it carried the personal tone they needed on the album.

  “I’m glad it’s only a broken hip and not something worse.” Ash glanced around and noticed a familiar set of eyes watching him. “How long have these guys been asleep?”

  She checked the clock on the wall. “Nearly an hour. We’ll get them up in another fifteen minutes or so.”

  “One of them is way ahead of you,” he mumbled, well-acquainted with Buddy Winston’s troublesome ways.

  His mom had opened this daycare center nearly three years ago, and Buddy had been attending since opening week. Barely able to walk back then, he’d still managed to land in one predicament after another. To his credit, the little towheaded child had charm for days and a smile that could win over the hardest of hearts. Both of which had saved him on more than one occasion.

  Overhearing Ash’s statement, the young boy closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

  “You said you were starting a new project today,” Mama said, her Georgia drawl as pronounced as ever. “Did my needing you mess that up?”

  “No.” Ash had messed up all on his own.

  “Who is it this time?” she asked. “Anyone I know?”

  Ash had put off sharing the details of this particular project for a reason, but he couldn’t dance around the truth any longer.

  “You know her,” he replied. “I’m working with Jesse Gold.”

  The blue Bic stopped tapping. “You’re working with the Rheingold girl?”

  Mama had referred to Tommy’s family in this way ever since the accident. Never first names, just the Rheingold this or that. After they’d shut him out, Mama Shepherd had declared the entire family miserable human beings who’d never deserved to have her son in their lives to begin with.

  “Yes, I’m producing her debut album.” Jesse might not think so at the moment, but they would hopefully be back to work tomorrow.

  Mama’s face puckered as if she’d caught the scent of something rotten. “I don’t like you working with her. The whole family is heartless, the way they threw you away like that. As if you’d done anything on purpose. You were hurting, too.”

  They’d had this conversation countless times, and Ash felt no desire to rehash the subject. “Jesse didn’t know that her parents turned on me. She thought I left on my own.”

  “Then why didn’t she call you herself?” Mama asked, her increased volume causing the little ones to stir. Lips pinched, she held her tongue while they settled back to silence. “Like I said,” she whispered, “they’re all the same regardless of whatever sob story she fed you. I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”

  Ash had never faulted his mother for her resentment of the Rheingold family. He’d resented them himself for many years. But he believed Jesse and had no intention of walking away from her again. Not for his mother or anyone else. He had a debt to pay, and producing her record was a small price compared to the hurt he’d caused her.

  “This is a job, Mama. A good one. Jesse needs my help and, in the process, I’m getting my foot in the door to being seen as a capable producer. Writing songs is fine, but shaping the sound that comes out of this town is what I really want to do.”

  As he knew it would, the statement softened her features. “Can’t you get your foot in the door working with someone else? What about that nice man you worked with over the summer? What was his name?”

  “Chance Colburn, and that job is what led me to this one. I only produced a few songs on Chance’s album, but now I get to create an entire record. If I can pull this off, I�
��ll earn my place, and the projects will keep coming.”

  The brunette one mat over from Buddy leaned up and rubbed one eye. “Ms. Shepherd, is it time to get up?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is, Madison. Go ahead and visit the little girl’s room.” To Ash, she said, “You wake the boys, and I’ll take care of the girls. Julia prepared the snacks before she left so once they’re in their seats, we’ll get them fed.”

  As more children opened their eyes, the chaos of the afternoon kicked in, and Ash had no time to worry about Jesse or their stalled project. Once the kids had gone outside to play, he’d found a second to check his phone, but there was no word from his wayward artist. For the next several hours, the kids required his full attention, offering a much-needed distraction, and leaving Ash exhausted as the last child exited with a parent just before six. But the day wasn’t over. As he mopped the floor, he found himself whistling while he worked, filling the air with a tune he quickly realized wasn’t his own.

  The melody was from a song Jesse had played him back in the conference room. He had to admit, the tune was catchy, and that wasn’t always a bad thing. Struggling to remember the words, he tapped out a rhythm on the mop handle and considered several ways to expand the song.

  Formulating a plan, Ash would spend the rest of the evening on the instrumentation and have something to start with the next morning. He hadn’t been immune to her disappointment when he’d shot down her original ideas, and admitting that at least one had merit would go a long way to mending the rift between them.

  Twelve

  “Have you lost your mind, child?” Silas boomed, drawing curious stares.

  They’d met at a small diner in Hillsboro, southwest of the city, where Silas had been a regular for longer than Jesse had been alive. If she’d thought he’d take her news so poorly, she might have shared it in a less public location.

  “I can’t work with him.” She shoved a crispy fry into a puddle of ketchup. The place was dark and old and a bit dingy, but they knew how to make burgers and fries. “It’s not as if we’re in the middle of the album and I’m asking to start over with someone new. All Ash and I have done is work on one song that I had already started. And I don’t really want to put that song on the album anyway.”

  The more she thought about including something so personal, the less she liked the idea.

  Silas wiped his mouth. “Are you forgetting what we went through to get to this point? What makes you think Clay Benedict won’t pull the plug the moment we tell him you refuse to work with the only producer willing to take the job?”

  That one hurt. “I thought only two turned us down.”

  “And this makes strike three,” he said, holding up three fingers. “Jesse girl, we can’t risk losing this deal, and that’s what will happen if you tell Benedict to find another producer. I’m sure of it.” His shoulders sagged. “I’ve sheltered you as much as I can, but this is your last shot. I guess I should have made that clear before, but I had faith that if someone gave you a chance, you’d prove the rest of them wrong.”

  By the rest of them, he meant those who believed the rumors. Jesse’s jaw tightened, and her appetite vanished. Shoving her plate away, she simmered in her own reality, chest aching.

  Disappointing the sweet man across the table was nearly as shameful as knowing that her dream hung by such a thin thread. What had she done to deserve any of this except work her butt off from the day she’d first picked up a guitar?

  And for what? To toss it all away because Ash insulted her boyfriend?

  “Forget it,” she said, willing to swallow her pride for both their sakes. “I’ll work things out with Ash. We’ll make this album, and it’ll be great.”

  The light returned to Silas’s eyes. “That’s my girl. By this time next year, they’ll all be sorry they turned us away.”

  Jesse flinched. Nothing like being reminded of overwhelming rejection to boost a girl’s ego.

  After waving for the waitress, Silas patted the back of Jesse’s hand across the small, weathered table. “I have faith in you, little one. You can do this.”

  “Thanks, Si. I won’t let you down.”

  “Of course, you won’t.” The waitress arrived, and he flashed her his brightest smile. “Dorothy, darling, bring us two big pieces of apple pie. And don’t skimp on the whipped cream.”

  Shifting the gum from one side of her mouth to the other, the woman stuck her pen behind her ear. “Anything for you, sweetie.” She dropped her notepad into the apron slung low on her hips and reached for Silas’s empty plate. To Jesse, she said, “Are you still working on that, doll?”

  “No, you can take it.”

  “But you still have a mountain of fries there,” Silas pointed out.

  Jesse’s stomach lurched, but she pulled the plate closer. “You’re right. I’ll nibble on these until the pie comes.”

  Silas looked pleased as she dipped a fry in ketchup. The greasy goodness had lost its appeal, but she ate on, trying not to think about the call she’d have to make when this meal was over. Would Ash be willing to stick with her? Or had her tantrum changed his mind? He’d tried convincing her to stay, so maybe they could start over. A simple conversation about boundaries, and then they could put the focus back where it belonged—on the work.

  The bell over the door jingled, and the man who entered headed straight for their table. Jesse had met him on three occasions, but he never remembered her. She doubted this encounter would be any different.

  “Heya, Si. How are you doing, old man?”

  Paul Parsons had been Silas’s client since the sixties and was likely as old, if not older, than his manager. He’d obviously had plastic surgery, and his false teeth glowed so white, Jesse wouldn’t be surprised if they were visible from the space station.

  “I’m good, Paulie. You remember Jesse Gold.”

  The bloodshot eyes held no recognition. “Yeah. Sure. How you doing, little lady?”

  She hoped the distaste didn’t show on her face. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Jesse is making her debut album for Shooting Stars Records. She’ll be a household name before we know it.”

  Some would see the statement as empty flattery, but Silas believed every word he uttered, and Jesse knew it. All the more reason to make things right with Ash.

  “Good for you, darling. When you get it done, come play for us on the Opry.” Paul tapped Silas on the shoulder. “Make sure I’m on the same night so I can show her around.”

  Jesse perked up. “I’d love to play the Grand Ole Opry.”

  Silas had been close to getting the Honkytonk Daisies into the lineup when Taylor left the duo.

  “Then we’ll make it happen.” Paul swiped a fry from Jesse’s plate as Dorothy returned with their pie. “I’ll get out of the way so y’all can enjoy your desserts. Si, give me a call about that Country Gold special. They’re messing with the slots again, and I’m hearing rumors about them cutting down the time for each act.” Backing away, he added, “Good to see you again, Jackie. And good luck with the album.”

  She sighed as the waitress set the pie in front of her. “Why can’t that man ever remember my name?”

  “He’s been calling me Denise for fifteen years,” Dorothy drawled. “And I wear my name on my shirt.”

  Unable to contain the laughter, Jesse covered her mouth as Silas added, “Old Paul has been singing the same five songs for forty-five years, and they had to give him a teleprompter for his Opry appearances because he can’t remember the words. Don’t take it personally.”

  “He remembers your name,” Jesse pointed out.

  “That isn’t always a good thing.” Lifting his fork, her manager said, “To the first of many number one albums.”

  Seconding the sentiment, she touched her fork to his. “I’ll eat to that.”

  Visions of platinum albums and her name in the Opry lights brushed her earlier thoughts away. So Jesse hadn’t landed on solid ground yet. That didn’t mean she wo
uldn’t. As the cliché went, if it was easy, then everyone would do it. Making it in this business was hard, especially for a woman, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. Jesse was going to make this happen, and hopefully, Ash was still along for the ride.

  Ash was loading the dishwasher when the call came. He’d begun to fear that Jesse really would walk away from the project so long as he was involved, and knowing the damage the decision would do, he’d resolved to ask Ronnie to take over, prepared to take full blame for the fallout.

  “Hello?”

  “Ash,” Jesse began, “I’m calling to apologize.”

  Not the greeting he expected. Though relief flooded through him, she had this conversation backwards.

  “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have crossed the line like that.”

  Jesse sighed as if she’d been holding her breath. “I should have handled things better. Can we try this again?”

  “That’s what I was hoping.” Remembering what he’d started before breaking for a late supper, he said, “I’ve been working on one of those songs you played me this morning.”

  “I thought you didn’t like those ones.”

  Ash was a big enough man to admit when he was wrong. “The last one you played—the one about the woman texting her ex—has some good lines. I’ve been messing with the arrangement, and I think you’ll like it.”

  “That’s great. I can’t wait to hear it.” He could almost see her smile and knew that they’d weathered an early storm. There were bound to be others, but Ash felt confident they’d get through them together.

  “Be here by nine and I’ll have the demo ready.”

  “You already made a demo?”

  “Just a rough cut. We’ll change out my vocals for yours, and then get back to finishing your grandmother’s song.”

  “About that…” Excitement changed to indecision. “I don’t think that one should go on the album.”

  Ash disagreed, but they were early enough in the process that every song was still a maybe. “Let’s just get as many songs together as we can and worry about the final track list later.”