“We have a meeting in 30 minutes. Michelle’s bus. Don’t be late.”
*****
My suspicions that Shay Rogan was a complete and total jackass were confirmed when I scrolled through the cell-phone photos of Shay that had been plastered all over the social media sites. There were shots of him on the bar, shots of him with multiple women and shots of him doing shots. His whole night had been documented by his fans. For once I was glad to let Shay have the spotlight. This was exactly the kind of behavior that had landed him in hot water with Robert.
Feeling a little smug, I set the tablet aside but my “hell, yeah” moment was cut short by a text from Daddy saying the he and Rayna (my new PR lady) and Shay were coming to my bus in five minutes for a meeting.
Meetings were never good things. If it was good news to share, someone would just call you up and say, “Hey, your album just went platinum. We’re sending you a giant check.” A “meeting” meant there was some issue to work out or that bad news was coming. I'd always thought bad news should be shared the same way as good—just call me up, tell me I’m over and move on, like ripping a Band-Aid off a wound. Painful but quick and less icky for everyone involved.
I was still wearing my running clothes and didn't have time for a shower, so I splashed some water on my face and changed into a comfy pair of jeans, a Keith Urban t-shirt and pulled my hair back in a ponytail just as the knock on my bus door came.
Daddy and Rayna came up the stairs into the living room area and neither looked happy.
"Robert wants us on a conference call in a few minutes regarding Shay's little stunt last night," Daddy said.
"I don’t see how that affects me.” I took a seat on the sofa. “I wasn't even there.”
You might not have been bar-hopping with the group, but this is about you, too, Michelle." Some of my smugness wore off. “People say you two were screaming at each other in some diner.”
Daddy looked at me as if I was 16 and had been caught sneaking out of the house. I felt a little like that, too.
Shay boarded the bus a minute later wearing dark glasses and looking about three shades paler than usual, nursing a giant cup of Starbucks. I looked away, still too pissed to even say hello. The set of his jaw said he was feeling the same. His hand was swollen and I could see that it was already black and blue. Served him right. Why was it that guys always ended up punching something hard when they lost their tempers—sheetrock, a metal door, a brick wall. Were they trying to prove they were all alpha or something?
Daddy got out his phone and set it on the table. No one said anything. We all kind of stared at the phone waiting for it to ring. I just wanted the call to be over with. Let Robert yell at us all so we could go on with our day.
“Oh, hell,” Rayna said and dialed Robert’s office herself. Once everyone was on, Robert started the call on a positive note.
"You're lucky your ass isn't in jail right now, Rogan." He let out an exasperated breath. "Jesus Christ. What were you thinking?"
Shay shifted in his seat. "Sorry, Boss. We were blowing off some steam. Things got a little out of hand last night."
"A little?"
"A lot."
"Have you forgotten this is the kind of shit that got you kicked out of Savannah last year? Not a venue in Savannah—the whole damn city. Trashing a restaurant, bar hopping with under-aged girls and having the cops called on you? Touring with the Virgin Mary herself wouldn't fix this PR nightmare."
I hid a smirk.
"Maybe it's time to find a replacement," Daddy said. "Rogan needs some time to dry up. Maybe check into a facility somewhere."
"I'm not going to rehab." Shay set his coffee of the table. "It was one night. And I didn't break up the restaurant. There was just the one hole.”
“Breaking your hand, from what I hear. How are you going to play with that?”
“The hand's just bruised, not broken. I can play."
"This tour is a bad punch line and the joke’s on me," Robert continued. "Have you seen the news this morning? Everyone is saying that you two can't get along. Apparently there was an altercation between the two of you at the diner that lead up to Shay's little night out on the town?"
Daddy looked at me.
"Michelle?"
"We...argued, yes," I said. "I'd hardly call it an altercation."
"Well, the word on the street is that there’s in-fighting and that the tour is in trouble. Ticket sales are down for the next three venues and the numbers weren’t stellar to begin with."
My heart dropped to my stomach. One of my biggest fears was scheduling a concert to which no one wanted to go. It was like inviting a bunch of people to your party and no one liking you enough to show up.
"What do you propose we do about this, Rayna?"
"Well, I've been working on some ideas." She moved closer to the phone. We could do some more radio ads and maybe some interviews. Reassure people that nothing is wrong behind the scenes and it’s a great show they should definitely see."
"It's too late for that. It's time to look at doing something drastic," Robert said. “Or just pull the plug and cut our losses now.”
Rayna slid a glance at Daddy. "There is one other thing we could try,"
Daddy shook his head. She’d already run her idea by Daddy and been shot down, apparently.
"What is it? At this point I'd be willing to entertain just about anything."
"We need the public to see them as a team. People like Shay and they like Michelle, so I think we need to send Shay and Michelle out on PR duty together. They need to prove they get along well. Really well. We need pictures of them hanging out together, flirting..."
My brain stalled at the word "flirting" and I was pretty sure Shay's had, too.
"What?" Shay and I asked at the same time.
"We can't even be in the same room for five minutes without Shay starting something," I said. “The last thing we need to be doing is spending more time together."
"Agreed," Shay said.
I glared at him. "Well, that's a first."
“The first time we agreed on something was seven years ago. You forget about that?”
"See what I mean? He's impossible. There's no way this is going to work."
“The deal was, separate promo, separate sets, separate everything,” Daddy said. “We were clear about it up front that Michelle and Rogan wouldn’t do any joint anything.”
“That was before he pulled a George Jones,” Robert said. “All bets are off.”
At that point everyone on the bus started talking at once. Daddy, Shay and I were against the plan, Rayna and Robert were for it.
"Excuse me," Robert shouted into the phone. Everyone was quiet and stared at the phone.
"The label is going to be footing the bill for part of this thing, so it's either make this work or pull the plug and forget the whole disaster of a Hail Mary ever happened."
I looked at my hands for a moment, then looked at Daddy. I knew I had to set my personal feelings aside for the good of everyone on the tour, even though Shay was the last person on earth I wanted to spend any time with at the moment. Or any moment.
But responsibility trumped my personal feelings. I had people who depended on me and sometimes that meant taking one for team. Actually, I’d be taking a lot more than one for the team, but that was splitting hairs. Besides, how many hours a day did that really mean I'd have to spend with Shay? We’d do some appearances, let the press take a few shots of us playing nice and then go our separate ways. It was better than the humiliation of cancelling a tour one date in.
"Fine," I said. I looked at Shay, daring him to accept.
He sipped his coffee, swallowed and set the cup on the table. "All right," he said finally. "It's only a few weeks, right? I've had worse jobs."
"Gee, thanks," I snapped.
"You may have the public fooled that you're some sweet little country princess, but you're no picnic, sweetheart. You're spoiled and stuck-up and so far up Robert�
�s ass that—"
"Well at least I'm not a belligerent drunk who sleeps with anything that walks on two legs," I shot back. We were not off to a good start.
"That's enough," Daddy said. "You two are going to have to act like adults and get through this. If you can’t do that, let’s end everyone’s misery right now and turn the bus around."
I crossed my arms, glaring at Shay.
Rayna looked from Shay to me and back again, a half-smile on her face. "There's chemistry here. Heat. I can work with this."
I know I flushed because she was right. There were sparks. But explosive sexual chemistry wasn't the best basis for a professional partnership. Most of the time Shay had me so riled up I wanted to rip his lips off...or kiss them until I was breathless. Shay and I would have to set all that aside for the good of the tour.
Shay sighed, finally giving in. "What do we have to do?"
Chapter Seven
I've got this, I assured myself as I did a last check of my makeup in the mirror of the radio station's bathroom. I swiped on a little lip gloss, which was pretty pointless for a radio interview, but if years of being in the public eye had taught me anything, it was that the one time you go out without hair and make-up done you were guaranteed to have your picture taken—a fan photo that then went viral, an ambitious tabloid reporter, or even a TV crew wanting a comment, which had been the case the past two days since our now infamous photo had gone viral.
At our tour stops in Atlanta and then in Orlando, reporters crowded the backstage area hoping for a photo of Shay and me fighting or asked for comments on the alleged riff rift between us. I had just smiled and said that the tour was going great and everyone was like one big family.
Right. A big fat dysfunctional family like the Hatfields and McCoys or maybe the Manson family. Definitely not the Brady Bunch or even the Judds, but whatever. Daddy always told me never to bad-mouth anyone or burn any bridges on the way up the ladder of success because those were the same people I'd pass on the way back down. I needed this tour to be a success as much as Shay did, so I was playing nice and pretending everything was wonderful between us.
At least Shay had backed off. There were no more of those suggestive remarks he liked to whisper in my ear just to throw me off my game. There were no more mentions of that train-wreck of a one-night-stand we'd shared and there were no more ambush kisses that stole my breath and made me forget most of the reasons why getting involved with Shay Rogan again was a very, very bad idea. He’d found other women to kiss before he went onstage for his set and that worked just fine for me.
I stuffed my make-up bag into my purse and tried out my “press” smile in the mirror. This was the third joint publicity engagement Rayna had booked for us since we’d arrived in Lexington the day before. I was getting good at interacting with Shay with clenched teeth and a fake smile while we were on the air and ignoring him the rest of the time.
I had always disliked this part of the job. Being a singer didn't mean you got to just sing all day. Publicity and promotion were a huge part of being a success, as was public perception. This was just one more of life’s little unpleasantries, like having your teeth whitened or wearing two-sided tape to keep your CMA gown from nip-slipping in front of the world press.
I made my way towards the studio where we'd be doing the interview, taking long deep breaths and exhaling slowly to relax myself. Shay was already there and was sitting on the corner of the DJ's station, clearly flirting with the attractive brunette. She was eating it up, looking up at him with eyes that said she'd be glad to do an up-close and personal interview after we went off the air.
I rolled my eyes. He never stopped. His libido was permanently stuck in over-drive. And I was sure he was doing it to gain an advantage during our piece. The interviewer had a lot to do with whether you sounded good on the air or came off like a total jackass.
"Hey," I said with a smile as I entered the small room. "I'm not late am I?"
Shay stood up. "Right on time," he said. "As usual."
How he could make punctuality sound like an admonishment, I didn't know. "Great." I walked over to the DJ and shook hands with her, introducing myself.
"I was just going over the format of this interview with Shay," she said. "Let me fill you in."
She went over how the interview was going to work—we'd talk about the tour and our albums and she'd ask a couple questions to keep things moving. Then she'd take a few calls, we'd give away tickets to that night's show and we'd be out of there. She was talking to both of us, but her eyes lingered on Shay. I could see how the interview was going to go. The emphasis was going to be on Shay and his album and mine would be an afterthought.
Just then the DJ's partner walked in and I knew I had things in the bag. He was a little older than the woman and wore a faded Statler Brothers t-shirt. He was classic country, then, while Shay's would-be groupie was probably more of a Taylor Swift type. I walked over to the guy and held out my hand.
"I'm Michelle Waters," I said. "Nice to meet you..."
There was no wondering who I was or feigned recognition. Just plain old celebrity awe.
"Roger," the man said, his face lighting up. "Rog on air. I'm a huge fan, Miss Waters. Ever since your first album."
"Thanks," I said touching his arm. "I am so happy to be here."
I heard Shay grunt but I didn't turn around to see what his problem was.
"Is this where I sit?" I indicated the spot next to where Rog had set his drink.
"Uh, yes," he said and pulled out the chair for me.
"Thanks,” I said with a smile.
Fine, I wasn’t above flirting with the DJ to come off better in the interview. Sue me. It certainly wasn’t the most fake thing I’d ever done in the name of career advancement.
"My pleasure," Rog said. "Can I get you anything? A Coke, coffee? Anything?"
"I'll take a water if it's not too much trouble," I said, settling into my seat.
"Absolutely." he scrambled to fill my request.
The producer came into the booth to talk to the DJ Shay had been flirting with and Shay took the opportunity to cross the small room and slide into the seat next to me. He leaned in.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. "Poor Rog is about to bust his fly."
I didn't look at him, instead taking out my compact to check my already perfect make-up. "I don't know what you mean. I was just introducing myself to the DJ." I met his gaze above the little mirror. "Just like you and Hot Pants over there are getting acquainted. We may be stuck doing this thing together, but I'm not going to let you dominate everything."
A slow grin spread across his face and the mischievous twinkle was back. He leaned closer to me and spoke directly into the burning shell of my ear. "I seem to remember you liked me dominating things, baby. You liked it when I was the one in control, calling the shots. You liked it when I told you what to do and how to do it."
Images of being tied to his bed with my own stockings as he drove me slowly out of my mind were clear as day running like a dirty movie through my mind. Even after seven long years I could recall every detail of how he looked that night. I could see the bead of sweat that had trickled down his forehead, rolled slowly to the point of his chin then splashed on my flushed skin as he drove into me over and over. I could smell the heat of him, the male, musky need that had lingered on my skin long after I was back in my own bed. I could feel the rasp of my silken bonds and the long slow slide of Shay entering my body. The sweet friction as he pushed us both to our limits. It was more than a memory. It was a temptation.
I swallowed and felt the heat rise in my cheeks.
"Yeah, you remember, too, don't you, baby? Sometimes I lie in bed and think about it—wonder how much longer it's going to be before I have you in that place again. Because I will. You know it and I know it and I think that's what makes you so prickly around me."
I opened my mouth to reply to his cocky assurance, but no words would come out.
> With a satisfied smirk on his face, he leaned back into his own space just as Rog came back with my water.
"Here you go, Miss Waters," Rog said, handing me the bottle.
"Are we ready to go, then?" The DJ took her seat across the table from Shay and me.
"Absolutely," Shay said, echoing Rog's earlier words. He put on his headset and scooted his chair up to the desk. "Let's do this."
*****
Shay had never done a radio interview sporting a boner, but there was a first time for everything, especially where Michelle was concerned.
He’d managed to stay away from her for two whole days but that was the extent of his self-control. Sure, he’d been pissed after what she said at the diner. But that had worn off by the time he’d left her bus that day. It was only the fear of the tour being cancelled that had kept him on the straight and narrow for those long 48 hours. But seeing her flirt with Rog, knowing how hot she was, seeing Rog respond to the promise of something he was never going to get, had broken him. He just couldn’t leave it alone. Teasing Michelle, breathing in her scent, seeing her pretty little blush when he said something dirty was just too much fun.
He was avoiding looking at Michelle while she chatted about her new album to Rog, who looked like he might very well roll over at her feet and go fetch her slippers. Jesus, just looking at Michelle's flushed skin and wide eyes was enough to keep him hard for weeks.
What was it about this woman that had him tied up in knots? She'd made it clear that she didn't want anything to do with him. Her words at the diner had left no doubt how she viewed him—she was quality and he was just a guy she once screwed in a moment of weakness. He didn't need Dr. Phil yapping in his ear to know that was part of the attraction. He wanted her precisely because she thought she was too good for him. Maybe he needed a little bit of payback. Reminding her that she’d wanted him back then every bit as much as he’d wanted her drove his actions.
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