by Virna DePaul
“Fun. Tonight was fun.” The words came out a little flat, and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed slightly.
I got the hint that she didn’t want me to make a big deal about her performance and figured she didn’t want me digging too hard in case I recognized her. Kara Hester still wanted to be Kara.
But still, I was haunted by her performance. When she played that song she’d written... Well, hell, I’d been blown away. The song had shifted something inside me, like tectonic plates moving to create an earthquake.
When she’d finished, I couldn’t find my footing. It was like she’d opened something in me, something I hadn’t even realized was locked away.
But that was the same reason she’d walked away from the life, because something inside her had been locked away when she’d been in the spotlight, when she’d been run and spun by her agent to the point that she’d had to run to protect the very little she had left.
So honestly, how could I tell her I’m an agent to both actors and musicians? That I’m the same kind of person she ran away from? She’d hate me if she knew the real me. I know it, and the thought makes me a little sick. She’ll think I only came along with her to get her to sign with me.
She glances at me, her mouth puckered around the straw as she sucks down her milkshake, and the twinkle is back in her eyes.
I’ve never been much of a tip-toer—I tend to get straight to the point without a lot of work-around, but I’m not yet ready to reveal all. So I tiptoe around what I should say.
“You were awesome tonight. How come you’re not playing music professionally?”
At least that came out sounding innocent and casual.
That twinkle goes away and she stops sucking down her milkshake. “Why do you think I should be professional?” she asks, her voice dull.
“That last song you played? You said you wrote it. You could be huge.” I reach over the table and grab a fry off her plate. “You’re brilliant. You’ve got to know that.”
She’s silent for a moment, casually sucking down her shake and watching me. I can’t tell if she knows that I know, and it’s making me nervous. Declan, don’t be such an idiot. You were having a nice night, and you don’t want to ruin what you’ve got with her…
At last, she pushes her shake away, leans back in the booth, and answers me. “I play for me, Declan. Me and me alone. Being in that moment—well, nothing compares to it. Nothing. The way I see it, being an amateur or a professional doesn’t matter all that much. It’s the heart behind making music that sets it apart for me.”
“You know you’ve got that—heart, I mean,” I point out. I’ve signed dozens of people, some even with more talent than Kara. But you can’t make talent have heart. It just doesn’t happen. The drive has to be behind the musician, or they can’t make it work.
“It’s just that…” I choose my words carefully here. “Most young musicians are always trying to make it big. You know? Like with their YouTube channels. They’re pushing themselves and putting themselves out there. And you’re…” I want to say and you’re hiding from the world, but instead I tell her, “You’re driving around the country in a VW van, painting murals.”
“I know.” She blows out a breath. “I can see why they push and why they work so hard. Maybe they accept the trade-off, but I…” Her voice trails off.
I smile, looking down at the table and not at her. “I think they’re young and naïve and they don’t realize that any kind of trade-off could exist.”
“Now that is definitely true.”
She closes her eyes and hums part of the song she’d performed tonight. It sounds so good coming from her lips that I want to kiss her. With her eyes shut like this, I love just looking at her. I had no idea I’d end up in a place like this, with a girl like this, having a night like this. I help launch new stars, but this girl in front of me—she’s a real star. Remarkably, she doesn’t even seem to have any kind of ego about her talent, either. I mean, she knows she’s good. But she’s not a bitch about it, flaunting and obnoxious. She’s about as rare as can be.
My heart tightens. Shit, I never thought I’d get in this deep this fast.
She opens her eyes again, then finishes off the rest of her shake with a loud slurp. I smile.
“Also,” she continues, “I know this—about the whole trade-off thing—because I have a bit of a history that has made me want to stay away from the business.”
My heart rate picks up and my back stiffens. Whoa, is she opening up? Does she want to tell me right now that she’s Kara Hester? I want her to keep going, but it’s all I can do to keep biting my tongue.
She stops looking at me and casts her gaze out the diner window, to a distant point where the ocean waves break. “It’s just that.. well, I was in the business. When I was younger. It was a big deal to everybody. I thought it was my dream come true.”
“But it didn’t stay that way?” I ask her gently.
She shakes her head. “No. It turned into a nightmare.” She seems to go into herself, reliving those memories. Guilt fills me at making her remember.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I say.
She looks at me blankly, like she forgot I was sitting across from her. “No, it’s okay. I mean, it was a long time ago. It doesn’t have the power to make my life miserable anymore.” She smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness and I know she’s lying, if not to me, then to herself. “I was really young when I got into the business. Too young. And it’s really fucked up when adults use a teenager to further their own goals. It was never about me as a singer, it was about the money and fame I could bring in. And I did whatever I was told to do. How to dress, how to talk, even who to date. I wasn’t allowed to sing any songs that I’d written, or even go to certain restaurants if they didn’t mesh with my image. I felt trapped, and then I felt guilty for feeling trapped because I had all of this money and fame, right?”
I hadn’t known about her being so restricted in her private life. That had to have sucked. What the hell had Carter McCall been thinking, tying down a butterfly like Kara? “So you left?”
“Not at first. I told myself to put up with it. It was for my career. These people knew better than me, so I should keep my mouth shut.” She bites her lower lip until it turns white before saying, “Except that even a gilded cage is still a cage. And when I found out about the money...”
My ears perk up. Okay, I know it’s none of my business, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know more.
She opens her mouth again, and I’m leaning on the edge of my seat like it’s the bottom of the ninth with two men out—when suddenly a jarring noise in my pocket suddenly makes me jump. Damn it, it’s my phone.
“Um, uh, sorry,” I mumble, annoyed. “I may have to get this.”
She waves me away. “Hey, we’ve both got lives.”
Lives. Right. I slide out of the booth and head over to the doorway where I look at my phone. I'm always happy to hear from my brothers, but this time, Owen's interrupted my time with Kara, and I feel annoyance brew inside me.
"Owen," I say.
“Yo, what’s up Declan?”
“Not much,” I say, lying to my brother. “Everything good?"
"Better than good. I'm working with a new client. A model. New to the trade but..."
I cock a brow. There's something in his voice. An energy and excitement I haven't heard in a while. "But?"
"I'll keep you updated as things progress. Anyway, I'm sorry to interrupt your vacation. You feeling okay?"
"Yes, Owen, I am," I say, glancing at Kara and mentally ushering Owen along. "Is that why you called?"
"No, I called because I got a call from an agent wanting to co-sign a band."
Co-signing wasn’t unheard of in our business, but we rarely did it. In my opinion, most clients only wanted to co-sign agents because they didn't trust one of the agents to begin with. "Which band?"
"Heart Demons.”
“Holy s
hit!” Fuck, I know that band. They’re new, and good. Really good. Excitement builds, buzzing in my veins.
“Right? I know you're not normally up for co-signing, but the band's so huge, I figured you'd want to investigate what's going on. The agent's only going to be in New York a couple of days and wants to know if you can meet up."
I glance at Kara, who’s building some sort of structure out of plastic straws. Her forehead’s all wrinkled and she looks like she’s enjoying the hell out of her spare time.
"Who's the agent?"
"Carter McCall."
I immediately frown. Of course I do, given I know he used to represent Kara and obviously fucked up her head about her creativity and music. Based on that alone, I wasn't interested in doing shit with McCall, let alone representing a client with him.
When I didn't respond, Owen said, "You got something against the guy?"
"Yeah. I've heard things, and those things make me believe Heart Demons doesn't want to sign with him solo for a reason." But damn it, as much as I wanted to reject the co-signing opportunity immediately, it wouldn't be professional. Especially if...
"Why'd McCall come to me?"
"One of the Heart Demons members mentioned you specifically."
"Right." So I didn't want to reject working with the band out of hand. I needed to at least meet with them and McCall. Still, I didn't want to be on McCall's time frame. “Owen, I’m hundreds of miles away.”
“Yeah, I know. South Carolina. I sent you there. Catch a flight and be back by seven tomorrow night.”
This sucks—and it feels wrong at the same time. I wrack through options in my brain, but each one is shittier than the next. I mean, I knew my time with Kara was going to come to an end at some point, but I didn’t think it would be so soon. Especially for the reason of meeting with Carter McCall.
That man fucked over this amazing woman six ways to Sunday, and I was going to do business with him? How the hell could I do that to Kara?
I didn't think I could. And I wasn't going to without giving it more thought. I've been wanting to come clean with Kara. This was the perfect opportunity to do so, and I could tell her I wasn't planning on working with McCall, ever, just that I needed to meet with him and the Heart Demons as a professional courtesy.
"Tell him if he wants to meet with me, I need more time. A few days at least. If he wants me on board--and he does if he wants to land this client--he can work around me."
"Sounds good. Also sounds like you're enjoying your vacation and don't want it to end. Any particular reason why?"
Still looking at Kara’s beautiful face, I nod. “Definitely," I say. I hang up before my brother can grill me
When I slide back into the booth, Kara waves the check at me, which she picked up.
“Thanks.”
“No prob. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, although I’m anything but. Fuck, I’m getting good at telling lies, aren’t I? They need to end, though. Soon.
We gather our things and leave the greasy spoon, heading back to the hotel. Just thinking of going back to work stresses me out. The idea of going back to the same old fast pace and phone calls and emails and texts... But most of all, the thought of leaving Kara... It's driving me crazy.
When the path diverges, one staying on the sidewalk and the other headed to the sandy beach, both Kara and I veer off the pavement. She leans on me as she takes off her shoes, and I do the same, and soon we’re walking barefoot along the shore, tiny seashells tumbling around our feet as the frothy surf gently slides up and over our toes.
“Seemed like a work call,” Kara says quietly.
She’s slipped her hand into mine and I give it a squeeze.
“Something like that,” I say.
“So you’re not a beach bum, are you? Or a surfer?” she asks.
I chuckle. “Neither. Just a guy on vacation.”
“You had me fooled,” she says casually. Then her voice turns a little tight. “You never did get around to telling me what you do for a living.”
Oh, fuck. My tired brain doesn’t want to spit out lie number one hundred for the day. As if I don’t already feel like a schmuck.
“I’m in marketing,” I hedge, which is true, although not the full truth. I market my clients, along with all the other stuff that goes with it. “It’s not all that exciting, which is why I decided to go on this trip with you out of the blue.”
“Must be a pretty boring business you’re in to make you want to go road-tripping with me.”
I give her a heated look, which makes her cheeks turn pink. “You know why I came along.”
I’m rewarded with a smile, and she swings our arms in time with our footsteps. God, Kara could make anything fun.
We return to the hotel, exhausted, and are too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and cuddle. I don’t mind. Kara falls asleep almost instantly, but I can’t sleep.
I know what I have to do, and it sucks.
In the morning, I’ve got to figure out how to tell Kara what I do, and that I'm going to meet McCall.
I'm hoping I can convince her that playing music again wouldn’t mean that she’d face the same horrors she’d experienced when she was younger. That with the right agent and team, she could have the career she dreamed of back when she was a teenager.
Seeing her play tonight had been a revelation: she needs to be on stage. Period.
Chapter 12
KARA
* * *
Last night, when Declan came back to the restaurant booth, I knew something had changed. That whatever his life had been before we’d met was calling him back. Of course our time had to end sometime, I’d told myself, and I’d braced myself for the news that he had to be on his way, only it hadn’t happened. I’d been relieved, but even as I’d finally managed to fall asleep in his arms I’d been uneasy.
And it turns out with good reason.
Dawn hadn’t yet broken when the calls began. One call and one text after another. Declan had tried to be polite and discreet, taking the first two calls in the bathroom, his end of the conversation engaged in annoyed and heated whispers, but when the third call came in, he hastily dressed, kissed me on the cheek and murmured a hasty apology before heading outside.
I’m too restless to stay in bed, so when he comes back to our hotel room, I’m pacing. I take one look at his expression, and my heart drops. “You’re leaving,” I say flatly.
When he nods, I ask, my voice tight, “Gotta get back to work?”
The way he looks at me makes me regret I even asked him. What does it matter the reason he’s leaving? I mean, this fun couldn’t last forever.
“Yeah I do,” he says slowly. “I thought I had a few more days but several fires are raging—different clients need me. My brothers are trying to handle it but I— They’re busy as hell already. It seems a shit thing to do to leave them to handle everything on their own.” He doesn’t say it, but I can tell from his expression that even if it would be a shit thing to do, he really, really wants to let his brothers handle things.
So he can stay here with me.
The knowledge that he’s as upset about having to leave me as I am to see him go only makes things more painful. After all, we’ve never talked about continuing to see each other. Hell, I haven’t even told him the full truth about myself. And though I suddenly want to, I can’t give in to that temptation. I’m a wanderer, and Declan obviously has roots somewhere. Work. A family. A life that doesn’t include me.
“Are you heading back to Hilton Head?”
He shakes his head, and his expression looks pained. “New York, initially. Then Los Angeles.”
I give a hollow laugh. “Pretty sure there’s no airport within miles of here. Do you need a ride, or did you grow wings overnight?”
“There’s a bus that’ll take me to the Savannah airport.”
“You—you don’t want me to drive you?” I ask hollowly.
“It’s early. I didn’t want to drag yo
u out on the road. You can get more sleep. Enjoy yourself here while I…”
While he gets on with his real life and leaves me behind.
I have to fight back the sudden urge to cry like a baby.
“Oh. Okay.” I can’t think of anything else to say. I mean, besides, stay with me. Be with me. Forget all your responsibilities and live on the road with me. Yeah, right. That kind of life only works if you’re running from something. And Declan isn’t really the kind of man to run from anything.
“Well, okay,” I finally say. “I’ll drive you to the bus station, at least.” I’m not one to beg or plead. I’m a big girl, and I understand. Maybe that’s one good thing Carter gave me—I had to grow up fast.
I turn and head to the bathroom as his “thanks” hangs heavy in the air. In the shower, I cry quietly. It hurts to say goodbye. With Declan by my side, I’ve felt more like my real self than I have in years.
We pack up our things. Declan tucks his powder blue tux in his big backpack, and I know I’ll keep my puffy-sleeved tulle-skirted pale yellow dress for a long time. It’ll always be a reminder of how much fun I had last night.
I drive him to the bus station through a gloomy and grey morning. The air is oppressive and depressing, fitting for what we’re about to do. Say goodbye. We don’t listen to music or say much of anything as I work my way through side streets to the bus station. It doesn’t help that even the weather seems to be a bit grayer this morning. I keep sneaking sideways glances at Declan while I drive, and I’m shocked to see him looking even sadder as we get closer.
I park the van at the station and get out with Declan.
“Kara, you don’t have to wait here with me.” He hitches his backpack over his shoulder and looks at me with an unreadable expression.
“I know,” I say, flashing him a smile I hope isn’t too fake. “I’m just here to give you a great send-off.”
I go around the side of the van, stand up on tiptoe, and give him a hug. Holding onto his backpack with one hand, he grabs me with the other and squeezes me. We kiss, and my heart races so much that I feel dizzy.