by Emma Lea
“So,” Stevie prompted, “what did she think?”
“She liked our sound,” he said distractedly.
“Then why the hell aren’t you happy about this? What else did she say?”
“Come on,” he said standing and grabbing her elbow, “let’s get out of here so we can talk.”
Nate was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to find Stevie after she had stormed out on him. She wasn’t answering her phone and when he’d gone to The Red Boot, she’d already picked up her gear and left. Why couldn’t she understand why he had to do this? It was just a demo and may very well go nowhere. Why couldn’t she understand that?
He kicked the tire of his truck and looked up into the lightening sky. If he was going to do this demo, he couldn’t wait any longer. It would take him all day to drive the distance and then he’d have to find a place to stay for the night. He tried to tell himself that Stevie was just having a tantrum and she would eventually call him back or reply to one of his many text messages. But there was something final about the way she’d walked out and he didn’t like that feeling at all.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, pulling out his phone one more time. He dialed and waited. He knew it was early, but he couldn’t leave until he knew that Stevie was okay.
“Hello?” the voice was thick with sleep.
“Mr. Jacks? It’s Nate.”
“Nate,” he said with a heavy breath.
“Stevie and I had a fight and—”
“I know,” he said. “She called. She’s on her way home on the Greyhound.”
He held back the profanity and kicked the dust. “Did she tell you what happened?”
“No,” he said, wearily, “just that she was coming home and asked me to pick her up when the bus got in.” He paused and Nate held his breath. “Do I need to get my shotgun Nate?”
He wished it was that simple. He wished that he and Stevie had that kind of relationship. At least then she might not have run off on him leaving him here worried sick about her.
“No sir,” he said. “I’ve never touched Stevie, that’s not what we have.” He ran his hand through his hair for about the millionth time and blew out a breath. “Look, I have to go, but can you ask her to call me? I don’t want to leave it like this and she’s not answering my calls.”
“I’ll try, Nate,” he said, “but you know what she’s like.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking down at his dusty boots and jeans, the same ones he’d been wearing all night. He hadn’t even had a shower and washed off the sweat from their last set. Shit, their last performance, their last gig. Fucking hell, he wasn’t ready for things to be over for them. “Just, please, tell her I called.”
They disconnected and Nate shoved his phone in his pocket before climbing into his truck. He had to do this, he just had to. It’s what they had both been working toward and if nothing else, getting time in a studio was an experience that he couldn’t turn down. It could all turn to shit and they might hate him, but if he didn’t at least try, then he was a fucking idiot.
Why couldn’t Stevie understand that?
Chapter Two
Present Day
Stevie sat cross-legged on her couch, her acoustic in her lap and her eyes closed as she strummed. It wasn’t a song, not yet anyway. She was just playing random notes and chord progressions to see what she could tease out. Her life had been a bit of a whirlwind after the release of Court’n Jacks first album and the announcement that they would be touring with Lily Ames. Court’n Jacks, the band that she was now a part of, was made up of the three Court siblings - Jace, Vanessa and Nadine - and herself.
Vanessa and Nadine looked so much alike that they could pass for twins. They were twelve months apart and their long, dark hair with heavy bangs, big blue eyes framed by perfect eyebrows and thick dark lashes, and cute little pixie features, were almost identical.
Their brother Jace was tall and dark haired, but had missed out on the blue eyes. His eyes were dark, like rich chocolate and he had a kind smile and quick, intelligent mind. Not to mention that he could play just about any instrument that you put in his hands. He was older by a couple of years and was super protective of his sisters, both of whom were little hell raisers. Vanessa was a drummer with a bit of a wild side and Nadine played an electric fiddle like a demon and could drink most of the men she knew under the table. Of the two of them, Nadine was the ring-leader but Vanessa was always up for a bit of mischief.
And Stevie loved them all.
She’d done so many guest appearances and radio shows that she was sure the entire world knew everything about her now. Well, everything except that she had once played with the great Nate Nash.
Except he wasn’t all that great anymore and his last album was an embarrassment to all artists everywhere. When she’d heard his second album, she thought he’d struck gold. There was no holding him back after the album went multi-platinum. And then he’d followed it up with something that was so half-hearted and subpar for him. She’d been disappointed in him, but then his fourth album had killed any lingering respect she had for him. It was cookie-cutter pop crap and it proved to her that he really had sold out.
Thank god no one had found that YouTube clip of her and Nate performing at The Red Boot. She had her publicist and her agent to thank for that. Lily had recommended them to her and they were worth the money the band paid them. Court’n Jacks’ profile had grown exponentially and they hadn’t even hit the tour yet. Their first album was rocketing up the charts and they already had thousands of fans on Twitter and Facebook. The speed that everything was happening had taken her breath away and she’d barely had any time to herself.
Which was why she had stolen this day and had shut off her phone and locked her doors. She needed space to renew and refresh. She needed time with her guitar and her piano. She needed time with the music so that she could find her feet again. It was far too easy to get wrapped up in the fame machine. Is that what had happened to Nate? She didn’t have to think too hard to know it was true. Nate would’ve soaked up all the attention like a sponge. He was easily distracted by the pretty sparkly things. She wondered who he had advising him because whoever they were, they’d done a shit-poor job of it.
He was her cautionary tale. Watching the way his career had soared to impossible heights only to crash and burn just as quickly was a lesson for her. Stevie was determined not to let that happen to her and the rest of the band. They needed to keep their heads on straight and look at their career as a long game. Stevie had no desire to be a flash in the pan. She wanted a long career and she was more than prepared to take the turtle approach, rather than the hare. It had served her well so far and she had no intention of racing into anything that might come back to burn her.
A melody began to form as she moved her fingers along the fret board and she let it come organically. She hummed along to it, getting a feel for the song before words started to come to her. There’s a joke that all country music is about trucks or losing your hat or your dog or your girl, but Stevie didn’t believe that. Sure, there was a percentage that pushed the stereotypes, but what she loved about country music was that the lyrics told a story. She liked all types of music, but there was something about country that tugged at her, especially those songs with lyrics that you couldn’t get out of your head. That’s what she tried to do with the songs she wrote. She wanted her audience to go on a journey, to get caught up in the story that she was telling them.
This song was talking about a love lost. Her thoughts about Nate colored her lyrics as she thought about what they’d had and what he’d walked away from. Court’n Jacks’ first single was called ‘You Walked Away’ and it was all about Nate. She’d thought she’d purged herself of the residual feelings she had for him, but obviously not. She knew intuitively that this song would be called ‘What Could’ve Been’ and it would be the story of what could have been between them if he’d stuck by her. The words tumbled out of her, unbidden, her heart spewing forth all her dreams of what she
and Nate could have had together.
She put the guitar down and dropped her head into her hands. Would she ever get over him? It had been five years and yet her feelings for him were still strong. He had hurt her so badly when he’d chosen his career over her. She hadn’t begrudged him the opportunity, it was just that he hadn’t given them another thought. He hadn’t fought for them. She’d always thought that they would end up together, that eventually he would come to feel about her the way she felt about him, but he’d never once looked at her like a lover. It hadn’t made her feelings any less, though.
It was one of the reasons she’d turned Carson down. She couldn’t marry him when she was still in love with Nate. She cared too much for Carson to do that to him. He deserved a wife who loved him wholly and solely, and that wasn’t her. Yes, she cared for him, loved him even, but it wasn’t the all-consuming love that she’d had for Nate. The all-consuming love she still had for him, if she was honest with herself. She may have stuffed those feelings down under the hurt that he had caused her but it was still there, as evidenced by the song she’d just plucked out. The scariest thing was that she didn’t think she would ever find anyone else who would make her feel the way Nate did. Which meant she was destined to be alone for the rest of her life.
Five Years Ago
Stevie eyed Nate as he took a long pull of his beer. She’d seen him talking to the man-eater in the yellow jacket, and saw her hand him a card. What surprised her was that he wasn’t following her out of the bar. That was usually Nate’s MO after a gig. He’d find a warm body and work off the adrenaline. But he was still sitting at the bar and he looked like he had something on his mind.
“She’s from Rocksteady Records,” he said. “Said she saw us on YouTube and came to check us out.”
“Shit, really?” Stevie said, accepting the vodka and lime from Jenny. “I put up the clip that Darla took from last month’s gig. It’s gotten a few hits, but, shit, Rocksteady? Really?”
He nodded and took another long pull of his drink.
“So,” Stevie prompted, “what did she think?”
“She liked our sound,” he said distractedly.
“Then why the hell aren’t you happy about this? What else did she say?”
“Come on,” he said standing and grabbing her elbow, “let’s get out of here so we can talk.”
The familiar thrill raced across her skin as he pulled her to her feet and put his hand on the small of her back. She knew it was ridiculous to still have a crush on him, but she couldn’t seem to get past it. He’d sleep with practically anything that moved, but he’d never even tried to kiss her. They spent so much time together and knew one another inside and out. They could practically finish each other’s sentences, but not once had he looked at her with lust in his eyes. And still she hoped that one day he would see her as more than his partner, that he would see her as a woman and find her desirable.
Until that happened, she still got a thrill when he touched her, even if it did make her a pathetic loser.
He propelled her out of the bar and over to his truck. He unlocked it and helped her climb in before going around and getting behind the wheel. He didn’t talk as he drove them to the no-tell motel that they were staying in for the night. She followed him into his room and watched him with worried eyes as he poured himself a third of whiskey from the bottle on the side board.
“What’s going on Nate?” she asked.
He ran his hand through his hair and then gripped the back of his neck, not looking at her.
“God, what did she say?” Stevie asked, a tremble in her voice. “Did she hate us that much?”
Nate shook his head and tipped it back to look at the cracked and stained ceiling, one hand on his hip. He was still wearing the jeans and t-shirt that he had performed in and they fit him snugly, showcasing the goods.
When he still didn’t say anything, she got up and walked towards him. “You’re scaring me, Nathaniel,” she said, using his full name in the hopes of getting his attention.
“Shit, Stevie,” he said pulling her in for a fierce hug. “You know I love you, right?”
“Sure,” she said, her heart galloping at a million miles an hour.
“Fuck,” he breathed and stepped away from her, rubbing his face, his whiskers rasping over the palms of his hands.
“They want me to cut a demo,” he said finally.
“Oh my God,” she said, hope soaring in her. “A demo, really?”
“Yeah,” he huffed out, “Monday morning. They have a studio booked—”
“What the hell Nate?” she said, thumping him in the chest. “You scared the shit out of me. This is great news, this is what we’ve been working for, this is why we stay in these fleabag motels and spend every dime we have on fuel traveling to these tiny towns and shitty bars.”
“Wait Stevie,” he said softly, but she didn’t hear him.
“What songs are we going to use? Covers or originals? Did she say what she wanted to hear?”
He walked towards her and took her hands in his, stilling her and looking deep into her eyes.
“Stevie,” he said and then took a deep breath. “They want me to cut a demo… just me.”
It took her a moment to hear what he was saying. She was already thinking up a set list, working out which of their songs showcased their talents best, so it took a moment for the words to sink in. They didn’t want her, they didn’t want Stevie. They only wanted Nate.
“They don’t want me?” she asked, searching his eyes, hoping she’d heard him wrong.
He shook his head slowly. “No,” he whispered.
Every dream she’d ever had of making it in the music industry came crashing down around her. All the blood, sweat and tears that she had poured into the songs they wrote. The bleeding fingers from picking out melodies on her guitar over and over again to make sure she had it perfect. The raw throat from singing in bars with too much smoke and not enough fresh air. The money she had spent on traveling just for the opportunity to perform in front of crowds that were usually too drunk to even listen to them. All of that was for nothing.
“I won’t go,” Nate said.
“No,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. “This is your chance. This is your break, Nate, you need to take it.”
She heard the words coming out of her mouth and knew they sounded flat and unconvincing. Hell, she didn’t mean them. She wanted him to turn them down, she wanted him to say that if they didn’t want both of them then they weren’t getting him. This was their dream. It had always been Jacks & Nash and there couldn’t be Jacks & Nash without Stevie Jacks and Nate Nash.
“Look, Stevie,” Nate said, pulling her in to his chest. “It’s just a demo. They may decide not to sign me after they hear me in the studio. It’s not guaranteed.”
“And what if they do?” she asked. “What if they do want to sign you?”
He huffed out a frustrated breath. “Then it’s a foot in the door and after I do it their way, then I’ll have some clout to do it my way and I’ll insist that they bring you in.”
Something in her broke. She pushed away from him, her anger rising like a tidal wave until all she could see was red.
“What the ever-loving hell, Nate!” she yelled. “This was my fucking dream! I had to bribe you to even get up on stage that first time. You didn’t want this! I have been dreaming of this my entire life and you just waltz in here and steal it away from me.”
“No, Stevie, it’s not like that—”
“Bullshit!” she yelled. “It’s exactly like that. I’m not some second string that you can ‘bring in’ once you’re a big shot star, Nathaniel Nash. You would be nothing without me. You wouldn’t even have been up on that stage tonight if it wasn’t for me!”
He reached out to her, trying to pull her back into his arms. “Stevie, I know! I know and I feel terrible—”
“Save it,” she spat. “Just shut the fuck up and get away from me.”
She turned away from him and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.
Stevie threw all her clothes into her battered suitcase and pulled her boots on before stalking out of the motel without looking back. She walked a couple of blocks in the dark to The Red Boot and went around to the back door to collect her guitar. She slung it over her shoulder and waved goodbye to Jenny, pasting a fake smile on her face.
“I’ll be in touch about the next gig,” Jenny called to her
Stevie couldn’t speak or she knew she would break down and cry, so she just nodded and waved. There wouldn’t be another gig at The Red Boot, there wouldn’t be another gig anywhere. She walked to the bus station and bought herself a one-way ticket home. She felt numb and her throat was swollen closed. She boarded the bus and sat in her seat, put her headphones in and leaned back, closing her eyes in the hope of fending off any chatty fellow passengers.
It was the middle of the night, but there was always a Greyhound ready to take her wherever she needed to go and Stevie needed to go home. She needed to get away from anything and everything that reminded her of the dreams that she had lost. And she absolutely refused to think about Nate - he was dead to her now.
It was probably unfair to be so angry at him. It was a big opportunity, but she was angry and she really didn’t give a shit if it was the right way to feel or not. He should have turned it down immediately. He should have told that woman they were a team and that they were in it together for the long haul. But no. All he saw was his name in lights and he’d dropped her faster than a hot potato and she’d smashed into a million pieces. Her dream was dead. It was broken, just like her heart.
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it. The only person who would be calling her at this time of night would be him and she didn’t want to hear his voice. She never wanted to hear his voice again. It would be better with a clean break. Let him have his demo and his recording contract. She would go on without him.