“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Like Jessie?” she asked softly.
“No,” Drew snapped, annoyed by the knowing gleam in her eyes. “Why do you say that?”
Hannah shrugged. “No reason. Forget I said anything.” She paused. “So you leave tomorrow?”
“Yes.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m off in an hour, and I’ve got some vacation time on the books. I’ll clear it with the boss before I leave, then I’ll pack tonight, and catch the first plane to Vegas in the morning.”
The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “Don’t go doin’ something crazy, like get hitched. I hear they’ve got a wedding chapel on every corner in that town.”
He burst out laughing. “Trust me, marriage is the last thing on my mind. And the last time I checked, I didn’t have a girlfriend.”
“Well, you never know.”
Hannah looped her arm through his as they headed towards the front, where the guy who had taken center stage was singing “When You Say Nothing at All” nowhere near as good as Keith Whitley sang it.
“You just might find the girl of your dreams in Sin City.”
Drew didn’t bother to reply. Hannah didn’t need to know she was closer to the truth than not. The girl of his dreams would be in Sin City tomorrow.
And so would he.
A few minutes before midnight, Jessie rummaged through her purse, looking for her cell phone. Nikki had already packed up the stage clothes and make-up, and had just left with a couple of the roadies who, at this moment, were probably loading her stage gear into the large cargo van her road manager had rented to transport their equipment and instruments to Las Vegas in. The driver would head out tonight and make it to Vegas in time for rehearsal on Tuesday.
Jessie Grant might be billed as a solo act, but there was nothing solo about putting on a show like hers night after night. Other than Wally, the band was the closest thing she had to family. They’d been together for years, and as close as she was to them, she’d always held a part of herself back. Trusting people was difficult for her. She’d learned a long time ago not to count on anyone staying around for the long haul.
Finally, she found her phone and read the two texts from Wally. The first one was to remind her of a conference call first thing tomorrow morning with the homeless shelter in Nashville, and the second was to tell her he’d be there shortly to escort her to the limo waiting outside the Ravinia Pavilion to take her back to the hotel. The venue in Illinois, was one she’d played many times. She felt bad that the concert had been interrupted three-quarters of the way through when Kenny pulled his stupid stage-diving stunt. After the paramedics had carted him off to the hospital, she’d done her best to finish the concert with her remaining band members, but both she and the band had been rattled, unsure how badly Kenny had been injured. The crowd however, either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. They’d filled the pavilion with their raucous chants and cheers until she gave them what they wanted—a second encore.
“Do you have a minute?”
Jessie almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Trista Cantrell’s slightly exaggerated Southern drawl. Her own experience at reinventing herself notwithstanding, it struck Jessie as odd that Trista, who’d lived in upstate New York until her recent discovery on a reality television show, had acquired an accent thicker than the majority of Nashville’s natives.
As she slipped her phone back into her purse, she looked at Trista, who stood near the door that had been closed just seconds ago. Irritation bubbled up inside of her. Much like a cat, Trista had the uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere without making a sound. It was damn unsettling.
“I didn’t hear you knock,” she said, trying to keep the bitchiness out of her voice.
“I did. Twice.” Trista’s voice held a hint of defensiveness.
Jessie was pretty sure she hadn’t, but she was too tired to argue. She sighed as she took in Trista’s long blonde corkscrew ringlets, which were reminiscent of the hairstyle Taylor Swift favored early in her career. The style had worked on tall, willowy Taylor, but on Trista, who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, the mass of hair overwhelmed her petite frame and made her appear even shorter.
“I guess I didn’t hear you.” She glanced at her watch. “I have a few minutes. What did you want to talk about?”
“I’d like to extend my set by fifteen minutes. I thought I should ask you before talking to Wally.”
Jessie tilted her head and frowned. “With what songs? You already have an hour and you barely have enough to fill that time slot.”
“I have some new material I’d like to try out,” Trista said, with a hopeful smile.
Jessie hesitated before answering. Despite her recent television success, Trista was still a green seventeen-year old kid with one hit song and an album that hadn’t even dropped yet. The only reason she and Wally agreed to let Trista open the show was because Trista was recently signed to the same label as Jessie, and the top brass wanted to get their new young protégé out on the road quickly in order to capitalize on her current popularity with the American public—specifically the tweens—an audience that at the ripe old age of twenty-five, Jessie was outgrowing. And if there was one thing she and Wally had learned over the years, it was to never piss off the head honchos at the label.
“I’d like to accommodate you,” Jessie said, choosing her words carefully.
She didn’t want to hurt Trista, but there was something about the girl that didn’t sit right with her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and as much as Trista claimed to idolize her, Jessie sometimes felt the girl’s fawning was a tad too dramatic.
“But unfortunately, if I give you more time I’d have to shave some time off of my set, and if I do that, I’d have to take out at least two songs. I don’t think my fans would appreciate that.” She offered Trista a regretful smile. “I hope you understand. It’s not personal, and if you open for me on my next tour, I’d be happy to discuss a longer set. By that time your album will have dropped, and you’ll have a wider selection of songs to choose from. Songs the public will be familiar with because they’ve already downloaded them.”
An emotion Jessie couldn’t make heads or tails of flickered in Trista’s eyes before she nodded. “I understand,” Trista said as she brushed back her mass of hair. “After all, the fans paid to see you, not me.”
Jessie waved her hand and smiled. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be selling out concerts on your own real soon. You have a great voice,” she said, with a sincerity that surprised her.
Although their paths to Nashville were as different as night and day, it didn’t mean that Trista couldn’t sing, and it didn’t mean that Jessie had to hold a grudge against her just because she’d basically had no choice in choosing her opening act. It wasn’t Trista’s fault the suits were drooling over her and her innocent, angelic persona.
“Trista?” The voice belonged to Trista’s manager, who appeared in the doorway wearing a look of impatience. “We’re leaving.” Barry Downs turned his attention to Jessie and gave her a smile as fake as his tan. “Sorry about Kenny,” he said, then snapped his fingers and glowered at Trista. “Let’s go. The car is waiting.”
Irritation flared in Trista’s eyes. “All right, already. I’m coming,” she said to Barry’s retreating back, then she turned and smiled at Jessie. “Thanks for the compliment. It means a lot coming from you. Well, I’d better go before Barry has a meltdown,” she said, then paused mid-turn and looked back at Jessie once more. “I can’t wait to get to Las Vegas. I’ve never been there before.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I have a feeling it’s going to be my favorite stop on the tour.”
“Why do you think that?”
Trista shrugged, then smiled. “Just a hunch.”
Acknowledgements
I’m going to keep this short and sweet this time!
Thanks to Dominique and Gabi for being the best daughters ever!
Helen Williams, Jesse Gordon, and Ally Murphy-you take good care of me, and I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know!
The Friends of the Society-you ladies are AMAZING! Thanks for the support!
To all the readers who pick up the books, I couldn’t do this without you! Thanks for reading!
About the Author
Crystal Perkins has always been a big reader, but she never thought she would write her own book, until she did. She lives in Las Vegas, where you can find her running author events and selling books at conventions when she isn’t reading, buying too many Sherlock t-shirts online or finding a place to put all of her Pop! figurines. A mac and cheese connoisseur, she travels the country looking for the perfect version, while attending book conventions and signings as a cover for her research. The Griffin Brothers series are all International Best Sellers, and she’s thankful to the readers who made that happen!
Find her here:
www.crystalperkinsauthor.com
facebook.com/crystalperkinsauthor
@wondermomlv
[email protected]
Devouring the SECRET (Corrigan & Co. Book 2) Page 19