Red Lines

by T. A. Foster

  He nodded. “Sure did. How about you?”

  “Spent some time in Austin. It was a nice weekend.” She showed him his seat and offered to bring him a drink.

  “I’ll take a bourbon on the rocks.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He looked out of the window. The faster he wrapped this movie, the faster he could make it back. They had a long two months ahead of them. He stretched out his legs and looked at the drink placed in front of him. He didn’t know how many times he could leave her like this. He tossed the bourbon back and closed his eyes, feeling the slow burn trickle down his throat. Yeah, he couldn’t do this again.

  THE DUST settled on the gravel as Evan’s car turned the last corner for the main road. She didn’t want to go back inside and she didn’t want to stand out here moping. She had just had the most incredible birthday of her life. Turning twenty-three had become an epic event—beyond epic.

  Evan had intended the Silver Belle gift to be the big surprise, but she thought the time she spent with his mother and sister was the real gift. It opened her eyes to how Evan got to be Evan. The way his sister teased him relentlessly and the way his mother adored him gave her a full picture of the man she was falling more in love with every day.

  She sat on the front porch, admiring the wide planks that stretched across the floor. It reminded her a little of what was now her mother’s porch. This was the perfect spot for an old sheepdog, or maybe a lab, she thought. She ran her hands over the wood. She wondered if Evan would want to get a dog.

  Life here with him would be amazing, at least the times he was here. She could spend every birthday with him, expecting some kind of over-the-top surprise. He would always sweep her off her feet when he rushed through the front door, but then leave her feeling empty when it was time to go.

  It wasn’t a normal life. It wasn’t predictable or cliché. It was life with Evan Carlson. Maybe predictable was boring. Maybe all the normalcy and mundane daily chores are what drove her father to find excitement somewhere else. Maybe that was the real recipe for heartache, not this.

  All this time, she had thought Evan sought boring and normal, but that didn’t really fit with how he lived life. It wouldn’t be enough to hold him still. Normal had a freshness and raw presence for him over the summer. Eventually, that would weather into predictability, and predictability was the gateway to dullness. Evan could never handle dull.

  It hadn’t taken her long to fall in love with the ranch. It was kind of like Evan, surrounding her senses and invading her thoughts before she knew it had happened. She was a beach girl. A complete island girl, but now she awoke to a day and a place that was as salt-less as the desert. Part of her had soaked it in, as if being on the ranch was a way of getting to know him better, loving him more. And the other half of her knew she would have loved it regardless if he were the one guiding her through this new existence.

  It had its own smells, its own sounds. The rhythm here reminded her of the waves at home.

  Evan still didn’t have her answer. It was on the tip of her tongue every time he flashed a smile in her direction or dropped a kiss on her lips. This could be her life—their life.

  Everything was so perfect the night of her birthday that she was afraid to open up about what it would mean for them to move in together. Even more scared to ask him if he had thought about what it would be like to relax into life with her. Had he pictured life six months from now when all the newness was gone? That question scared her most of all.

  She rose from the steps and turned toward the house. Somewhere in all of this was a song. She had the rest of the day to put it on paper.

  THE NEXT morning, Haven hurried up the front steps of Blue Steel and tapped on the elevator button. She had two minutes before she was supposed to meet with Carly.

  “Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

  “Do you usually talk to elevators?” A deep voice carried over her shoulder.

  She turned to see whom it came from. Standing inches from her was a guy with dark hair, broad shoulders, and a chiseled jawline that could have been cut from a block of marble.

  “You’re Drew Easton.” She knew she was standing there like any other fan girl, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Umm, last time I checked.” He winked. “And you are?”

  “Oh, um I’m Haven Owen. I write songs with Carly Stone here.” She wanted to slap her forehead. That sounded like stupid name-dropping, but what did you say when Drew Easton was next to you?

  The elevator doors retracted and Drew stepped inside. “You comin’?”

  “Oh, right. Yes.” She lifted her head, as if that would clear the buzz of stardust. She tapped the three button.

  “I guess it’d make sense we’re headed to the third floor together.” He leaned against the wall.

  “Do you have a meeting or something?” Haven had read up on all the talent signed with Blue Steel, and Drew had not been on that list. She would have remembered his name.

  “If you can keep a little secret, I’ll tell you.” He leaned toward her ear. “I’m getting ready to jump ship. Thinking about coming here.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s big.”

  “It is. It is. Tell me, what do you think about the label? If you write with Carly, you must have some insight. Do you like Blue Steel?”

  “Well, I’m sorta new, so maybe not the best person to ask, but—” She paused. “I like it. I think it’s a great label and you’d definitely be happy here. They take care of their artists. That much I know. Carly loves it.”

  The doors opened and Drew placed his hand on the side, allowing Haven to step out first.

  “Thanks for the insider tip. I bet I’ll be seeing you around soon.” Drew winked again, and then walked toward Bruce’s office, leaving Haven in the lobby, starstruck and giddy.

  Carly called from down the hall. “Hey, in here.”

  Haven shook her head and hustled to meet Carly.

  “What was that all about? Were you just talking to Drew Easton?”

  Haven nodded, knowing she had just made a complete fool of herself. “Yeah, looks like he’s meeting with Bruce.”

  “Huh.” Carly tossed herself on the couch where they liked to write. “So much for pushing all the girl power stuff.” She used air quotes and more sarcasm than Haven had heard from her before.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. What does Drew have to do with girl power?”

  Carly laughed. “I forget sometimes that you’re still new to the business. Look, if Bruce wants Drew, then they obviously aren’t going after all the top female talent that’s out there. Sure they can draw in all the screaming girls they want with his ass and those eyes, but you and me—that’s not the direction they’re taking.”

  Haven shook her head. “It doesn’t necessarily mean that.”

  “Honey, I know what I’m talking about. If Drew is coming on board, then you and I have to make this album kick ass, because there’s no telling how long we’ll have the full backing of the label. Right now might be the only time.”

  “But Bruce said in our meeting—”

  “It doesn’t matter what he said then; what matters is what he does now.” Carly reached for her guitar and strummed a C chord. “Come on. We have work to do. What do you have for me? I need to forget Bruce is in a meeting with Drew. Distractions, right?”

  Haven fumbled to pull her notebook out of her bag. “I wrote something yesterday after Evan left. I think you should try it.”

  Carly balanced it on her knee and sounded out the notes. “You did this one yesterday?”

  Haven nodded.

  “Wow. I think we might have just given Drew Easton a run for his money. Who cares about dark dreamy eyes?” Carly laughed and started belting out the song.

  By the time Haven left Blue Steel, it was almost dark. She threw her bag on her shoulder and marched to the elevators. Carly said she was going to stop by and talk to Bruce before
she left for the night. Something about digging up the truth on Drew’s visit.

  Haven walked through the lobby, nodding at the front desk receptionist, and walked straight into the wall. Only this wall had legs, dark hair, and chestnut eyes.

  “You again?” He chuckled.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” She looked up, realizing she had almost plowed Drew to the floor.

  “I don’t think any permanent damage was done.” He wiped off the front of his shirt.

  “Good. I mean, I’m sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention and I just—”

  “Hey, it’s not a big deal, but if you’re looking for a way to make it up to me, you’ll let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

  Haven’s eyes shot to his. “Oh no, I can’t. I have a boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend, huh? Well, does he object to you repaying your debts? Or is he just the completely jealous kind that doesn’t let you out of his sights?” He had yet to stop smiling.

  “No, he’s not like that.” She shook her head. Evan was definitely overprotective and always worried about her safety, but she had never called him jealous. She had never given him reason to be.

  “Perfect, then he won’t object to me buying you a cup of coffee so you can apologize for running into me and almost killing me.”

  “Ok, that was not going to kill you.” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Maybe not, but that’s not what I’m going to tell the officer.”

  Haven giggled. “Ok, ok. I’ll have coffee with you, but we have to make it quick. I have a call I’m expecting.”

  “Oh, big time songwriting conference? They do those at night?”

  “Actually, no it’s with my not-jealous boyfriend.”

  Drew grinned. “Look, I’ve got to run upstairs real fast and grab something I left in Bruce’s office. Wait for me here or want to come up?”

  “I’ll wait.” Haven walked toward one of the lobby seats.

  “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He pointed at her then darted in the elevator.

  The doors closed behind him. This was fine, right? Innocent coffee meeting with probably the newest, most successful artist to join the Blue Steel label. It was just her way of welcoming him to the team. She fidgeted with her hands, wringing them together until they were almost bright pink.

  Five minutes later, Drew stepped out of the elevators. “Ready?”

  “Yep. I’m ready.” No matter what she kept telling herself, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something terribly wrong.

  “There’s a little place around the corner.” He held the door for her.

  “I think I know which one you’re talking about. Carly and I get coffee there all the time.”

  “The diva gets her own coffee?” He joked as they strolled on the sidewalk.

  “She is not a diva. Far from it.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Funny, because she said something similar about you.” Haven smirked.

  “Sounds like we both need to get our stories straight.” He stopped in front of the coffee shop and kept the door ajar for Haven to pass through.

  Haven walked to the counter and ordered a latte. At this point in the day, she wasn’t worried about the caffeine. By the time she made it home, she’d be too exhausted to let caffeine keep her awake. Songwriting all day had wiped out her energy.

  Drew extracted his wallet to pay.

  “Oh no, I’ve got this.” Haven started digging through her bag for her wallet.

  “I don’t think so. This was part of your payback, remember?” He handed his card to the cashier who hadn’t taken her eyes off him. She was just as stunned Drew was standing in front of her.

  “Ok, but just this once. I can get my own drinks.”

  “I’m sure you can.” He chuckled then moved to a corner table.

  Drew had a sort of easiness about him. He seemed just as comfortable in the Blue Steel offices as in the coffee shop. It reminded her a little of Evan’s confidence and how every situation came to him effortlessly. She was waiting for some of that to rub off on her. She still felt awkward and unsure in Austin.

  Haven carried the hot cup to the table, noticing the barista had topped her latte with a foam heart. Totally unnecessary.

  Drew kept his back to the window and all his attention on Haven. “All right, so tell me your story.”

  She tested the top layer to see how hot it was. “My story?”

  “Yeah. Artists all have a story: musicians, singers, songwriters, there’s a story for all of us. What’s yours?” He held up a hand. “Wait, wait don’t tell me. Let me guess. Starving waitress, writing between shifts, singing telegrams as a second job until you were discovered by a scout whose fiancé sent you to his office to surprise him for his birthday, and he was so blown away by your original lyrics he asked to hear more. Tell me I’m right.”

  Haven covered her mouth, muffling her laughter. “Not so much, and not nearly that dramatic, but wow, you are good with this stuff. Maybe I should have been born from such a story, but there’s not much to tell really. I am going to completely disappoint you. I’ve been in Austin almost two months. I signed on with Blue Steel in August. I’m writing with Carly on her new album.” She decided the latte was still too hot to attempt.

  He laughed. “Keeping it simple, I guess. You had to come from somewhere. You don’t sound like you’re from Texas. What’s that accent?”

  “North Carolina. Is it that bad?” She hadn’t thought about it before. Everyone sounded the same on Perry Island. Suddenly, she was self-conscious of how she pronounced her Is.

  “Nah, nah, I can just tell you’re not from here.”

  “What about you? Where are you from?” she asked.

  “The great state of Georgia. Southern boy through and through.”

  Looking at him, he didn’t seem like a typical Southern boy. His jeans were ripped, there was a tattoo peeking out of his T-shirt along his neck, and he had on a thin fitted jacket. He looked like an artist. Maybe one who had a grittier start than she did.

  “I guess that makes us neighbors.” She smiled.

  “I think it does.” He took a sip of his drink. When he looked up, Haven laughed at the foam mustache covering his top lip.

  “You have a little something…”

  Drew dabbed at his lip, but kept missing one place. Haven picked up her napkin. “Here, that looks ridiculous.”

  She reached across the table and blinked at the heavy camera flash. She whipped around toward the window. Standing outside the coffeehouse were three photographers, smiling and waving.

  “Oh, God.” She shrank into her seat.

  Drew angled his position to get a look at them. “Man, I must be losing my appeal. There are only three out there.”

  Haven tried to shield the side of her face with her hair, but there wasn’t as much to cover her embarrassment.

  “You ok?” He placed a hand on top of hers, and the flashes fired rapidly through the window.

  She pulled back immediately. “You can’t do that.”

  He held his hands up in defense. “Whoa, what’s going on? Spooked by a few pictures? They’ll be gone in a second once they have their story.”

  “I don’t want to be their story.”

  “It’s not a big deal. They follow me pretty much wherever I go. I’m sure you’ve had this with Carly.”

  Drew took another sip of his coffee, this time thoroughly wiping his mouth with his own napkin.

  “This is not good. I need to go.” Haven grabbed her bag.

  “I can’t let you leave this upset. Hold up a second.” His fingers clamped down on her wrist. “Sit for just a minute, ok?”

  Haven slid into the seat. “I need to go. I can’t stay.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Drew leaned closer.

  She sighed. “Remember the boyfriend I mentioned?”

  He nodded. “Worried he’ll see pictures of
us having coffee?”

  “Yes, but it could be worse than that.” She paused, regretting the entire coffee encounter. “He’s Evan Carlson.”

  Drew belted out a deep laugh, filling the coffeehouse. The patrons next to them turned around. “Come on, you’re not serious.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m dead serious. I’m staying at his ranch.”

  “Shit.” Drew whistled. “I guess I don’t have a shot if you’re seeing him.”

  Haven’s eyes darted toward his. “I told you I had a boyfriend.”

  “A man can try, can’t he?” Drew leaned back in his seat.

  “No, he can’t. I told you.” She closed her eyes. There had to be a way out of the coffee shop that didn’t involve a photo op with Drew.

  “Evan’s got to be used to this kind of crap. It’s not like we were doing anything. We’re in a public place having a cup of coffee. Just two co-workers shooting the shit.” Drew made it sound innocent and harmless.

  She pulled out her phone.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’ve got to call him and tell him. What if he gets the wrong idea?” Her hands were shaking.

  “You’re really going to call him about this? It’s nothing. You’re going to interrupt him wherever he is to say you’re having coffee with someone from work? Talk about going over the top. He’s used to much bigger things, but if you think it’s worth it to bring it up and disturb his work, go for it. You know him better than me.”

  Haven placed the phone on the table. She knew Evan was shooting all day. They weren’t supposed to talk until his next break.

  “You’re right. You’re right. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just not used to the press yet, and it seems like, whenever I turn around, they find me when I’m least expecting it. I don’t know how you and Evan deal with it.”

  “It’s part of the territory, sweetheart.”

  One of the photographers had left and two were standing outside smoking cigarettes.

  “Look, those two will head out soon. Let’s finish our coffee. This will blow over in five minutes. Ok?”

  Haven loosened the grip on her bag. “All right. I’ll stay.”

  “Good. I still have a chance to persuade you how charming I am.” He winked. She pierced him with a glare. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”