by Terri Osburn
“Some of the details might be a little sketchy, but I’ll share what I can remember.”
“That’s all I ask.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Jesse took the two steps required to answer it.
“Ms. Gold, we’ll need you up front in five minutes,” said a man who looked young enough to still be in high school. She assumed he was a college student possibly doing an internship. Before she could respond, he lifted the microphone of his headset back into place. “What do you mean you can’t find him?” After a brief pause, he added, “I’ll be right there.”
With a huff, he was gone.
“Alrighty, then.” Jesse checked herself in the mirror one more time.
Her meeting with Emily the day before had led to an afternoon hair appointment. The stylist had found a way to incorporate Jesse’s casual style into something a bit more stage-ready. Instead of the basic ponytail, her thick, red hair was pulled to the side, gathered into a festive clip, and draped over her right shoulder.
She’d been worried about replicating the look for today, but she had pulled it off after only a couple tries.
“Are you going to wait in here, or come out front and watch the rehearsal?”
Silas shifted the candy to his other cheek. “I’ll come out if you want me to.”
Sensing the answer he wanted to hear, she patted him on the shoulder. “Stay here and relax. You’ll see the show tomorrow.”
Settling deeper into the chair, he nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes, that’s true.” Catching her hand to give it a quick squeeze, he said, “Go get ’em, girlie.”
Jesse kissed the top of his head. “Yes, sir.” With a smile on her face, she left the little dressing room, sending out a prayer of gratitude for whatever higher power had sent the old man into her life. He’d been her loyal companion through more downs than ups, and that unwavering belief was finally paying off for the both of them.
“Mr. Ash, I don’t feel so well.”
Butler was Ash’s anchor guitarist. This was no time for the boy to get sick.
“Do you have a fever?”
He shook his head. “Not that kind of sick. I’m so nervous, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
Ash could relate. “This is only the rehearsal, big guy. Keep breathing and remember that this is nothing different than how we play at the center every weekend.” Giving the teen a shoulder squeeze for support, he added, “Just have fun. That’s all we have to do.”
The words were as much for himself as for the youngster. The kids were ready, of that Ash had no doubt, but if their leader was this scared when the seats were empty, how were they going to handle the real thing?
“But the cameras. . .”
They’d discussed what this opportunity would entail back when the offer had come, and all of the kids had been given the option not to participate. A month ago, when being on television had sounded more exciting than daunting, everyone had jumped at the chance. Now that the day was here, the cameras were in place, and some of their idols were strolling the halls, Ash feared his musicians was starting to second-guess their decision.
“Remember when we played at the charity event earlier this year?” he asked.
“Out in front of the center?”
“That’s right. There were cameras there, and you did great.”
Butler’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “That’s true. But what if I play a wrong chord? The whole world will hear it.”
He might be giving this little holiday show more credit than it deserved, but this was no time to debate the size of the television audience.
“There will be ten guitars all playing at once. No one will hear one wrong chord.” Not the best pep talk Ash had ever given. “Besides, you haven’t played a wrong chord since the week we started learning the song. And you won’t play one today or tomorrow.”
Butler swallowed hard. “When I told my mom I was nervous, she said it isn’t as if I’m doing something important like performing brain surgery. I think I need to keep telling myself that.”
Ash didn’t appreciate the backhanded insult to his profession, but if belittling an entire art form would get the boy through this, he’d let it slide.
“Mr. Ash,” called Danny Little, barreling toward him at a full run and pulling a struggling Zoe Romero along behind. “We have a big problem.”
Why did he volunteer with kids again?
“What is it?”
Danny paused to catch his breath and pointed to Zoe. “She can’t sing.”
“She can’t what?” Zoe had the solo. She had to sing. The young girl was massaging her throat with a miserable look on her face. “Why can’t you sing?”
“I don’t know,” she croaked. “I was fine yesterday.”
Nerves. Ash should have spent as much time preparing them for the anxiety of performing as he had on hitting all the right notes.
He bent until his face was even with hers. “Listen to me, Zoe. You’re an amazing singer who has been given a gift. The gift of a beautiful voice. All you have to do today is share that gift with your friends. I know you can do it.”
“Yeah,” Butler chimed in. “It’s not like we’re cutting someone’s brain open.”
Zoe turned confused eyes the boy’s way, and Ash went with it.
“That’s right. No one’s life is on the line here. Sing like you do at the academy, and you’ll be great.”
“I’ll hold your hand if that’ll help,” Danny offered. Contrary to his last name, there was nothing little about the boy who played nose tackle for his high school football team and loomed above the other kids by nearly a foot.
The young girl gave her outsized protector a wide-eyed look, as if seeing him for the first time. “You’d do that for me?”
Danny shrugged broad shoulders. “Sure.”
The frog in Zoe’s throat miraculous disappeared and with renewed courage, she said, “I’ll be okay.”
Ash breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s our girl.”
Hand in hand, Danny and Zoe headed back to the choir’s dressing room while Butler stared after them. “You think he likes her?” he asked, as clueless as a teenage boy could be.
“I think he might. Are we good here?”
The boy nodded. “If Zoe can do it, so can I.”
Ash gave his student a soft tap on the arm. “That’s the spirit. Go join the others and make sure everyone is tuned and ready.”
“Yes, sir,” he said before rushing off.
These kids were going to be the death of him, and it didn’t help that Ash was as nervous as they were. Performing in front of a bar full of tourists had never been fun, and in this situation, he couldn’t rely on liquor lowering his audience’s standards.
“Are you okay?” Jesse said.
Ash hadn’t heard her come up behind him. “Yeah. Good. I’m fine.”
With a soft chuckle, she said, “You don’t look fine. What’s the matter?”
Searching for a secluded corner, Ash settled on an opening behind a dark curtain to his left. “Hold on.”
Taking her by the hand, he tucked them both into the small space and pulled her into his arms. She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, easing his mind and making him forget the task ahead.
When the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I needed that.”
A little breathless, Jesse said, “I’m not complaining, but where did this sudden need to kiss me come from?”
Reluctant to reveal his weakness, Ash said, “I always have a need to kiss you.”
Jesse eased back and flattened her palms against his chest. “That’s nice to hear. Now tell me the real reason.”
“I need a reason to kiss you?”
“Ashland Shepherd, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re on edge about something. What is it?”
So much for keeping his dignity intact. “I hate performing live,” he admitted. “That’s why I write the songs and let other people sing them.”
>
Instead of laughing, as he’d expected, Jesse cupped his face in her hands. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I get nervous before every performance, but I love it once I’m out there and the music starts.”
“I hate it the whole time.” The confession wasn’t as difficult with Jesse.
She touched her lips to his. “You create incredible music, and there’s nothing wrong with letting others share it for you. But I don’t think you can get out of this performance. Not without letting the kids down.”
Ash would never do that. “I’ll make it,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to the day when we don’t have to hide behind curtains like this.”
“We won’t have to sneak around much longer,” she replied. “After all this time, we can wait another six weeks, right?”
“As long as I know you’re mine, that’s all that matters.”
“I’m all yours. Now you’d better go check on the kids. We wouldn’t be very good at sneaking if we both pop out from behind this curtain at the same time.”
He reluctantly let her go, but he stole one more kiss before leaving. “By the way, you look beautiful.”
Jesse patted the curls draped over her shoulder. “Do you really like it?”
“I do.” Someone called Jesse’s name in the distance. With one more quick kiss, he said, “I’m out of here.”
Ash peeked around the edge of the curtain and found the coast was clear. Feeling better than he had before, he walked casually down the hall and heard the sounds of multiple guitars being tuned. The sound reminded Ash that this wasn’t about him. This was about these students, who had very few positives going for them. That he could be the source of one made any suffering on his part more than worthwhile.
After what Jesse deemed a reasonable amount of time, she stepped out from behind the curtain to find Dennis Kohlman blocking her path. Damn it. Why hadn’t she checked first?
“What are you doing here?” she asked, annoyed by his arrogant glare.
“I have an artist on the show,” he replied, then tisked as if she were a misbehaving child. “You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
Jesse stepped to the left to go around him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sleeping with your producer?” Dennis said, blocking her path. “That’s a bit cliché, even for you.”
“Let me by.”
“I wondered how you finally managed to find one after I’d worked so hard to limit your options.”
She knew it. “Then it was you who spread those rumors.”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You are a bitch to work with. Just ask Mason.”
No matter what Jesse said to defend herself, Dennis would twist her words to serve his own demented purpose. “Screw you,” she said, stepping in the opposite direction, but he cut her off again. “Knock it off, Dennis. I’m expected on stage.”
“It’s one thing to screw up your own career, but destroying someone else’s is exceptionally selfish.”
He would know. “You’re the one who screws up careers, remember? Now let me by.” Jesse was finally able to get around him, but his next statement stopped her cold.
“I’m sure Ash Shepherd might have found great success as a producer. Too bad we’ll never know.”
Hot rage surging through her, Jesse turned slowly. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Dennis said, examining his fingernails, “when the tabloids get wind of the affair, I doubt he’ll have much credibility in this town.”
“What affair?” she whispered, stepping closer and struggling to keep from strangling the evil jerk.
“The affair you and Shepherd had while you were still with Ryan Dimitri. After all the speculation that he had been the unfaithful one, I’m sure his fans will be happy to hear that the real cheater was you.”
Hands clenched into fists, she growled, “I never cheated on Ryan. Whatever pointless vendetta you have against me, leave Ash out of it.”
“Too late, darling. You brought him into this, not me.”
“I didn’t—” Choked with frustration, Jesse stopped wasting her breath. “What do you get out of this? Out of destroying innocent people’s lives?”
“There’s nothing innocent about you and Shepherd. I heard what you said behind the curtain about sneaking around and waiting to go public to make it look like a new romance.”
The only reason they’d been sneaking around was to keep from giving the gossips more to talk about, but Jesse had never imagined anyone would assume she and Ash had gotten together before her breakup with Ryan. Her head spun as the truth dawned. Hiding their relationship—which they clearly hadn’t done well enough—had provided more fodder than if they’d just been honest from the start.
“What do you want to leave Ash out of this?” she asked, certain that the man had a price.
“Fire him,” Dennis replied without hesitation.
“What?”
“Fire Shepherd as your producer.”
She couldn’t do that. Not this far into the project. Even if she explained that she had to do it to keep Kohlman from going to the tabloids with his bogus story, Ash’s career would take a hit without a complete album on his resume. And then there would be Clay Benedict to deal with, who wasn’t likely to tolerate the lost recording time as they hunted down yet another producer.
As Jesse was about to argue, she realized that she’d be wasting her breath. Dennis already knew all of this. Why else would he make such a demand? His ultimate goal was for Taylor to come out on top over Jesse. He would make that happen at any cost.
“You want me to commit career suicide and endanger Ash’s future in the process.”
“You put Shepherd in the crosshairs, my dear. I just want you out of the way.”
He wanted her alone, miserable, and defeated. All because she’d bruised his fragile ego.
“Do you really have so little faith in the artist you signed?” Jesse asked, feeling bad for Taylor for the first time since she’d altered both their lives.
“There’s nothing wrong with stacking the deck,” Dennis drawled. “Or handicapping the competition.”
Jerks like Dennis were the ones who gave this business a bad name.
“You’re asking me to throw away everything I’ve worked for.”
“Ms. Gold?” said the same man who’d visited her dressing room minutes before. “I’ve been looking for you. We need you on stage.”
With a victorious smile, Dennis said, “You can give me your answer tomorrow.” He began to back away. “But I wouldn’t put this off, or things will only get worse.”
Yes, they would. He’d make sure of that.
Suppressing the panic rising in her chest, Jesse nodded to the young man in the headset. “I’m ready.”
“Follow me.” When they reached the front of the stage, he pointed to an X on the floor. “Stand there and wait for your cue.”
Muttering under his breath, the harried young man left her alone behind the microphone stand, staring into a dark, empty auditorium. A spotlight clicked on loudly, blinding her as the musicians she hadn’t noticed at the back of the stage started playing her song.
Shoving Dennis Kohlman as far out of her mind as possible, Jesse relied on all of her stage experience to get through her brother’s favorite Christmas tune—I’ll Be Home For Christmas—without bursting into tears. Though in that moment, she wanted to cry as much for what she was about to lose, as what had been taken from her all those years ago.
Thirty
“You did it,” Ash cheered as The Sunshine Academy Players filed into their dressing room. “Great job out there.”
The rehearsal had gone off without a hitch. By the time Ash returned from his brief interlude with Jesse, Butler had shared his brain surgery antidote, and by some miracle, the perspective had calmed everyone’s fears.
“I didn’t even mess up,” said Chadwick, the newest member of the ensemble who’d been with t
he group only four months. Playing must have been in his DNA because he’d picked up the instrument faster than any student Ash had ever had. Other than Jesse.
“Mrs. Hopewell is going to be blown away tomorrow night,” Butler announced, brimming with pride.
Millie had checked in on several practice sessions but opted to wait until the big night to hear the performance in full.
“Yes, she is,” Ash agreed.
He had to return to the stage to supervise the choir’s rehearsal, but the singers had been nailing their song for the last two weeks, so he was much less nervous about their performance. It helped that he was a mere supporter in the wings for them and not required to be on stage.
“You guys get packed up and sit quietly while I see to the choir.”
Sheila Worthing and Greg Etheridge, the two parent chaperones, gave him a nod of understanding, making it clear that they would keep the children contained in Ash’s absence.
As he hustled from the room, Ash nearly ran Jesse over. “Hey,” he said, steadying her. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied distantly. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving.”
“But we came together. I only have the choir left, and then I should be able to go.” The kids were riding a bus back to the center where their parents would pick them up.
Jesse shook her head. “No, I need to go. Silas is going to drive me home.”
Something was off. “Are you okay? Did something go wrong during your rehearsal?”
“I told you, I’m fine. I just want to go home.” Eyes down, she mumbled, “I have to figure something out.”
“Jesse, what’s going on?”
The choir exited the room next door, and Zoe said, “Are you coming, Mr. Ash?”
“I’ll be right there.” He kept his focus on Jesse and lowered his voice. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll go with you.”