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

by Terri Osburn

  She and Ingrid had welcomed Jesse with open arms, and an open bottle of wine.

  “I’m not sure I happened to him as much as he happened to me.” Swirling the red in her glass, Jesse leaned back and glanced up at the stars. “I feel like a moron.”

  “Ryan is the moron,” Ingrid assured her, tossing a small log onto the fire.

  Yes, he was. But that didn’t diminish Jesse’s humiliation. “Thanks again for putting me up. I promise I won’t be here long.”

  “Stay as long as you need.” The homeowner rose from her chair. “I have an early photo shoot in the morning so I’m off to bed.” She dropped a kiss on Dana’s forehead. “Do you want me to bring out another bottle of wine?”

  “Jesse?” Dana said.

  “No, I’m good.”

  The ladies settled into silence as the sliding glass door clicked shut. This was the first time Jesse had been able to relax in days, and she breathed the cool night air from her spot several feet from the fire. As often happened in the last few days, Ash filled her mind. He’d grown quieter once she’d finally gotten through to him about the tightrope that was her life. Ignore what people thought? If only. This was Jesse’s profession of choice, and that meant taking the good with the bad.

  The good was getting to do what she loved for a living. The bad was the precarious nature of that choice. One day you were up. The next you were playing for tips, dodging flying beer bottles, and relying on the kindness of strangers to fill your bucket. Some months the lights stayed on. Other months you found yourself homeless and living in your bass player’s guest room.

  “Can I ask you something?” Dana said.

  Jesse opened her eyes. “Ask away.”

  “Why did you go to Ash instead of Silas?”

  With a sigh, Jesse sat up. “Ash Shepherd isn’t a producer I met last week. We grew up together. He was Tommy’s best friend, and we were together in high school.”

  Her friend leaned forward. “Together?”

  With a nod, she said, “Together. Ash was my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first . . . everything.”

  Silent for several seconds, Dana eventually muttered, “Damn. Why didn’t you tell me?” Putting the pieces together, she added, “Wait. He was driving that night?”

  Only three people in Nashville knew about the accident, and Dana was one of them. Taylor and Ash were the other two.

  “Yes, he was driving. All this time I thought he’d walked out of my life, but when I met him again the day he took this job, I found out my parents had sent him away.” With a catch in her voice, she said, “He didn’t leave me because he wanted to.”

  The same words Jesse had uttered to Ash earlier in the day. A little history repeating, though Jesse wasn’t walking out of his life, just out of his guest room.

  “That explains a lot,” Dana said before tipping up her glass.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last week at dinner, I caught him watching you more than once. He looked at you the way Reggie looks at Phoenix.”

  Jesse wasn’t comfortable with the analogy. “I doubt that. What we had is in the past.”

  “Does it have to be?”

  “Of course it does. He’s my producer now.”

  She scoffed. “Like you’d be the first artist to fall for your producer.”

  “We need to change the subject.”

  Dana pressed on. “Come on, Jesse. I’m not blind. You looked at him the same way tonight. Maybe all of this is happening now for a reason?”

  “All of what?” Jesse asked through clenched teeth.

  “Ash getting hired to produce your record. The truth coming out about Ryan. There’s a higher power at work here.”

  “Then that higher power needs to focus on helping me instead of turning my life into a complete cluster.” She rose from her chair. “I need to go look up apartments.”

  “What are you afraid of?” Dana asked.

  “You don’t understand what it’s like to have everyone talking about you behind your back,” Jesse snapped.

  The bass player raised a brow. “I’m a lesbian bass player in country music. I think I might understand what that’s like.”

  Jesse dropped back into her chair. “That was a horrible thing to say. I’m sorry.”

  Her friend patted her knee. “I get it. These rumors about you being tough to work with aren’t fair. But what does that have to do with you and Ash?”

  Ignoring the question at hand, she said, “Do you know anything about Taylor’s new manager?”

  “Dennis Kohlman? Only that he’s sleazy as hell and is probably the person spreading those rumors about you.”

  “You think so, too?” Jesse asked.

  Dana shrugged. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Everyone knows you were the more talented half of the duo, and that makes you Taylor’s biggest competition.”

  Though Jesse had told herself as much on more than one occasion, she hadn’t realized anyone agreed with her. “Do people really think that?”

  With a hard eye-roll, the woman shook her head. “Yes, they do. But again, what does this have to do with you and Ash?”

  She was getting to that. “Back when our second single didn’t take off as fast as the first, Taylor said she was afraid that we would be one-hit wonders.”

  “She made sure of that now,” Dana grimaced.

  “She also told me that Kohlman had contacted her and claimed he could take us to the next level. He wanted to meet with us to discuss a change in management, but I refused. A week later, Taylor dragged me over to meet him at a party, and it was obvious that the two of them had done more than just talk.”

  “Ew,” her friend muttered, her face twisted as if a skunk had entered the yard.

  “Exactly what I thought,” Jesse said. “But it gets worse. He sent Taylor off to get us drinks and immediately made a move on me, suggesting a little you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours arrangement, and I think the word threesome was thrown around.”

  Dana visibly flinched. “That’s disgusting. I can’t believe she’d still sign with him after knowing that.” When Jesse made a face, she added, “You didn’t tell her?”

  “Not the details. I let her know I didn’t like him and that we were fine with Silas. A week later, I got the text that she was going solo.”

  “Wow. I knew she was insecure, but geez.”

  That had been the irony of their partnership. Taylor had been the long-legged blonde-bombshell of the duo, and yet she’d also been the least confident.

  “And that’s why I won’t cross the line with Ash,” Jesse said. “Whatever success I have, it’s going to be on my terms, and no one will be able to say that I made it because of who I slept with.”

  Dark brows drew together. “But you just said you and Ash go back to high school. It isn’t as if you met him at a party and fell into bed with him to get ahead.”

  “No one knows that, and even if they did, he’d still get the credit for my success.”

  Her hostess processed that statement for several seconds. “So Taylor is willing to sleep with a slimeball to get her chance, while you’re giving up what could be the real thing to get the credit for yours. I have to be honest, Jesse. I don’t think either of you are making the right choice.”

  Convinced otherwise, Jesse once again rose from her chair. “Maybe. Maybe not. But at least I can look myself in the mirror at the end of the day.” After finishing the last sip in her glass, she said, “Now I really am going to look up apartments. If I can get some viewings for Saturday, you want to come with me?”

  Dana rose beside her. “I can do that. Will you promise me one thing, though?”

  “I can try.”

  “Don’t let your ego get in the way of your heart.”

  The cryptic request made no sense. “What does that even mean?”

  With a caring smile, she tapped her glass against Jesse’s. “Just think about it.” With a nod, she added, “Go on and do your research and I�
��ll take care of the fire.”

  Jesse followed the suggestion with Dana’s words still playing through her mind. By the time she reached her room, she opted to ignore her hopeless romantic friend and stick with her plan—concentrate on the music. If she let her focus slip for one second—which is what would happen if she crossed the line with Ash—the sharks in this town would eat her alive.

  She would not let that happen.

  Eighteen

  Ash met Millie Friday morning in the production company parking lot off of 18th Avenue. She wore a pressed, if ill-fitting, business suit, and he’d never seen her look so put together. Even her hair was neatly styled.

  “Good morning,” she said, her smile wide. “I’m so happy you could make this meeting. I truly wouldn’t have been able to do this on my own.”

  She’d have been fine, he was sure. “No problem.”

  They proceeded into the building and were greeted by a male receptionist who offered them an assortment of drinks. Ash accepted a bottle of water while Millie passed.

  “I’m way too nervous to drink anything,” she whispered as the man returned to his post. “I’ve never been around television people before.”

  Ash had participated in a couple of locally televised programs. The first had been for charity, and the other had featured up-and-coming songwriters in town. Neither had put him in the spotlight, which was why he’d participated at all, but watching the behind-the-scenes action had been interesting.

  “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “All we have to do is listen to what they have to say.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, nodding vigorously. “I can do that. But what if they want the children to wear fancy outfits? Their parents can barely afford food. I can’t ask them to spend money like that.”

  That was a problem he hadn’t considered. “If they want fancy, they’ll have to pay for it. If that isn’t an option, then they’ll have to be happy with whatever the kids can put together.”

  “We did black pants and white shirts for the recital last spring. Maybe that will work.” Millie squirmed on the edge of her seat. “I’m sure the center could pitch in for some sort of Christmas-y accessories. Red ties for the boys and pretty bows for the girls.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Ash could already hear the boys moaning about having to wear ties, but there was no need to burst Millie’s bubble right now.

  “Ms. Hopewell, Mr. Shepherd, they’re ready for you now.”

  The receptionist led them into the bowels of the office, which was quieter than Ash would expect. Then again, this was the executive floor. Most activity likely took place on the lower levels. They were seated in a conference room twice the size of the one at Shooting Stars and waited several minutes before the producers joined them. The moment the suits walked into the room, Millie stopped squirming.

  “Thank you again for taking the time to meet with us, Ms. Hopewell. I’m Jacob Holmes and this is Melissa Darby, who spoke to you on the phone last week.”

  “I remember, yes. It’s nice to meet you both. And this is Ash Shepherd, our music director at Sunshine Academy.”

  “So you’re the source of the children’s talent,” said Ms. Darby.

  Ash shook his head. “The talent is all theirs. I just help them learn how to use it.” Curious, he asked, “How did you hear about the academy?”

  “Samantha Walters raved about your group. She saw them perform last spring through her connection with the Kids & The Arts charity.” The friendly brunette turned to Millie. “I believe they’re a big contributor to your facility.”

  “Yes, they are. We’re excited about this opportunity, but we need to make sure this is a proper venue for our students.” Millie crossed her arms, looking every bit the shrewd negotiator. “What exactly are you wanting the children to do?”

  Darby and Holmes exchanged a glance that Ash read loud and clear. They hadn’t expected the mousy director to transform into a lion. Smiling, he sat back, happy to be the silent observer.

  “The program will last two hours, and we’d like to feature the choir during the first hour, singing at least two traditional Christmas songs, though we can’t be sure if both performances will make the final television cut.”

  “And the musicians?” Millie asked, her expression revealing nothing.

  “They would appear in the second hour, and we were hoping they might play something more contemporary. Is that possible?”

  Millie turned to Ash. “What do you think?”

  He didn’t see why not. “If you can get the performance rights for a modern Christmas tune, the kids will play it. But we’ll need to know which songs as soon as possible so they have plenty of time to learn and practice. Will they need to play two as well?”

  “Just one for the musicians,” Holmes said. “We’re packing more acts into the second hour so that limits the time allotted to each.”

  Learning a three- to four-minute song in a month’s time was more than doable. “Who will they be performing behind?” he asked.

  The producers exchanged another glance. “They’ll have the spotlight all to themselves.”

  Confused, Ash said, “Then who is doing the singing?”

  “Who did the singing in the spring?” Ms. Darby asked.

  His gut dropped.

  “That was Ash,” Millie replied. “He’s a wonderful singer.”

  “I’m a songwriter and musician, not a singer,” he corrected. “We have plenty of talented kids in the choir who can handle this performance.”

  “Singing with a choir is quite different from taking lead on national television,” Mr. Holmes pointed out. “If the kids are used to playing behind you, we should probably stick with that.”

  Ash was about to argue until catching the hint of panic in Millie’s pleading gaze. This was important to her and would be equally important to the kids. His refusal to sing wasn’t likely to be a deal breaker, but if it was and they lost this opportunity, he’d never forgive himself.

  “Fine,” he conceded. “But we’ll expect final approval on song choice.”

  “That was always the plan since you know best what the children are capable of.” Ms. Darby slid a sheet of paper their way. “We’ve compiled a list of options for both groups and hoped we could lock in the choices today. Since, as you mentioned, we’ll need time to make sure we have all the rights we need.”

  Millie accepted the list and immediately handed it over to Ash. Within minutes, three songs were chosen—two for the choir and one for the guitar troop—and the Sunshine Academy performers were locked in as official participants in the November taping of a Nashville Country Christmas.

  Ash still wasn’t happy with the role he’d agreed to play, but there was no way around it. In the end, Millie was happy, and the kids were going to have a once-in-a-lifetime experience. That was really all that mattered.

  Burger Republic was already packed with the Friday lunch crowd, but that was typical of this part of town. The Gulch, a development just off the downtown business district that had once been a railroad yard, was currently the trendiest neighborhood in town. In fact, Jesse would trade all of her fancy outfits to live in one of the high-end condos with their modern décor and endless amenities.

  Not only were they insanely pricey, but they were harder to get into than Harvard Law School. The waiting lists had waiting lists. You had to know someone who knew someone or dream on. Since Jesse lacked the right connections, dream on it would be.

  “Look at it this way,” Dana said as the hostess led them to their table, “That’s less tourists milling about outside your metaphorical front door.”

  A stretch for a silver lining, but Jesse would take it. She’d scheduled three apartment viewings for the next day, but one had only been available to see this morning, which had worked out well with Ash off at his meeting with Millie. Unfortunately, the studio apartment had been less than attractive and during their short tour, Jesse had heard voices through the walls on both sides. That meant
option number one got a hard pass.

  “Here you go,” the brunette said with a smile, indicating a booth against the back wall. “Deonne is your server, and he’ll be right with you.”

  “Thanks,” Jesse said, sliding into the seat and not bothering to open the menu. The sliders were her regular order, and she saw no reason to change things up.

  “I always say I’m going to get one of these spiked milkshakes, but I never do.” Dana scanned the list of boozy concoctions. “Ooh, there’s a new one called Kentucky Thunder.”

  That sounded dangerous. “What’s in it?”

  “Stout, bourbon, and chocolate ice cream.” She looked up with a wiggle of her brow. “We should do it.”

  Tempting but Jesse really wanted to make her solo debut at least twenty pounds lighter than she currently was. “I better not. I’ve eaten enough conciliatory ice cream this week to gain back the five pounds I managed to get off last month.” Five pounds in a month was nothing to brag about, but Jesse had never dropped weight easily. The passing on of her mother’s non-moving metabolism had been a cruel twist of fate.

  “You look great,” Dana assured her as an attractive black man approached the table.

  “Hello, ladies. How are we doing today?”

  “Good,” they said in unison.

  “All right. My name is Deonne, and I’ll be your server today. Have y’all been here before?”

  “Many times,” Jesse replied.

  “Cool. I’ll get your drink order in and give you a little time to peruse our menu. What are we having?”

  Dana ordered first. “I’ll take a Diet Coke.”

  “Same for me,” Jesse said. As Deonne left the table, she said, “What happened to the Kentucky Thunder?”

  “You reminded me that the Thunder would go directly to my thighs.”

  The bass player was taller than Jesse—though who wasn’t?—but of a similar size.

  “When we celebrate our first number one, we’ll come back for the Thunder and say screw the extra calories.”

  “That’s a deal.”