Burnt Sugar (ACE Series Book 2)

by Layne Harper

  Cindy laughs. “What makes you think no one will come?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply as I try to stay as still as possible so Margo doesn’t get mad. “I just had a dream.”

  Cindy squeezes my shoulder. “Attendance is not something that I’m the least bit worried about.”

  For some reason, those words make me feel better, and I relax a fraction of a bit. We divide duties and each take a responsibility for something. My job is to continue to promote the grand opening to my followers.

  “So far, I have over one hundred people who’ve entered for the chance to win tickets to the party,” I inform the group.

  Cindy replies, “That’s great. Okay. We probably need to ensure that each person is allowed to bring a guest. We want the atmosphere to be friendly not awkward with people pressed against the walls.”

  “I’ve got a jazz band in mind that I think would be awesome for entertainment,” Bella says as she continues to scribble in her zebra striped notebook.

  Robbie interjects, “They’ll need to be informed that this will be filmed, and they must sign releases.”

  Bella nods. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  Shannon says, “I’m going to work on the media invites.”

  Cindy adds, “Get with Justine. You two can coordinate those.”

  Shannon nods.

  “I’m also going to have it catered.” Bella continues to write.

  I speak up. “I was planning on preparing some of my most well-known dishes.”

  “You won’t have time,” Cindy says. “Let’s have it catered.”

  My stomach drops. “I don’t want someone else serving their recipes in my store. I can start preparing stuff at night and freezing it.”

  Margo runs her fingers through the tight curling iron waves loosening my hair.

  Shannon and Cindy exchange a look that makes me uncomfortable. I feel like the poor country mouse who just arrived in the big city.

  Bella suggests, “What about if we hire someone to prepare your recipes, MK? There’s that girl that Grandmother has used. She was talented.”

  “Yes.” Clapping, I turn my head. “Perfect. Would you mind calling her and getting the lady’s number?”

  Bella makes a note. “Consider it done.”

  Margo gasps and points to my neck. “You have a hickey.”

  My heart clenches as my hand slaps it, and I think it becomes twenty degrees warmer in here. “Oh God. I thought I had covered it with my scar makeup.”

  Cindy laughs loudly and exclaims, “I told you rock stars don’t just give up their Saturday nights to paint paisley.” She bends down and closely examines the evidence of our love making.

  I literally want to die. This would be a great time for a nuclear bomb to be dropped or for a meteor to hit the planet. There’s nothing for me to say so I just shrug and smile sheepishly.

  Margo digs in her makeup suitcase and finds a skin color paste. It’s cool to the touch as she massages and buffs it over the bruised skin.

  Cindy says, “Let’s go back to the guest list. I need for you to submit to Shannon who you want to personally invite.” She dramatically simulates holding a pencil and writing on an imaginary list. “I’m just going to pencil in Johnny’s name as your date.” She ends her statement with a smack of her lips. “Then, I’ll give her a list of the VIPs that we need to include. Of course, Vince will also have some people that he needs to invite. Most of his will probably not come just because we’re in Louisiana, but you never know. Folks like air time. We’ll see what that count is and then you’ll know how many fans you can give tickets to.”

  Margo motions for me to close my eyes. “I need an idea of what MK should wear. I should probably start looking today.” The brushes, leaving their powder on my eyelids, is so relaxing. Every time Margo does this it’s hard for me to stay awake. Not today though. I feel like a cat that’s been hit by lightning.

  My phone dings, but I ignore it for the time being.

  Shannon replies, “I see something vintage, pretty, flowy.”

  Margo swipes mascara on my lashes. “How formal?”

  It’s Cindy that responds. “Certainly not formal. Nicer than jeans. No sparkles. She needs to look like the store.”

  Margo taps my cheek, and I open my eyes. Once again, when I see myself in the mirror, I note that she’s performed a magic trick or maybe an illusion. I still look like MK, but a more refined, better highlighted and shaded version of me. “I’ll need Johnny’s wardrobe person’s number. We don’t want matchy prom outfits, but you two will need to look like you go together.”

  The tips of my ears burn, and I try to act like an adult. Yes, I’m sexually active in a newly rekindled relationship. There’s nothing to feel shameful, or embarrassed about. That’s what I tell myself. It does no good, and I still feel like my mom walked in my high school bedroom and caught me making out with my boyfriend.

  “Date is October eleventh. We need invites sent out by Thursday,” Robbie says.

  Bella caps her pen. “We can do it. MK, I’ll work on your list now. I’m pretty sure I know who you need to include.”

  With a laugh, I say, “Yes, you probably know my list better than I do.”

  As everyone stands and makes their way to the trailer door, I pull out my phone to see who texted earlier. It’s Aaron and my sister. I read Bethany’s text first.

  Bethany: First of all, how’s Aaron? I hope he seeks the treatment that he needs. Second, I need to discuss the baby’s name with you at some point soon. We were prepared to name her Mary Kathleen until Aaron’s comment in the hospital. I need to start monogramming. I know this is of little consequence to you, but it’s very important to me. Love you.

  At this point in my life, I’m so stressed that my sister could name the baby Chocolate Malt, and I wouldn’t care. I don’t have it in me to discuss future names of my children with the guy who has just reentered my life and is on tour. I’m in the middle of filming a reality show and find the idea of a child at this point in my life to be soul crushing. I reply.

  Me: I think Mary Kathleen is a beautiful name. I’m honored and relieved that you’re carrying on the naming tradition. Hugs! Love you.

  Good. Hopefully, that’s one last thing that I must deal with. Next, I focus on Aaron.

  Aaron: I hate Vegas. Have I told you that? I hate Vegas. My nose is so dry I had to send someone for saline drops. My lips are cracked. I can’t play my guitar, and I miss you. I think you should ditch your show and come see me.

  Aaron: I don’t mean that. I’m happy for your success. Life is just better when you’re with me.

  Smiling at the screen, I reply.

  Me: I’m sorry your lips are cracked and your nose is dry, but I’m happy that you miss me. Everyone has seen your love bite. Can you die from embarrassment? Mark Oct 11 on your calendar. It’s my open house and if you’re a good boy, I’ll send you an invite.

  I carry my phone as I walk fast to catch up with Cindy and Shannon. Today, there is a hint of fall in the air. The temperature will stay in the eighties for the first time since May. When I was a kid, I’d be crazy hyper and barely able to sit through school when the air was like this. I’d meet Tripp after the last bell rang. We’d head to the bayou to fish or climb trees. My mom would make chili with beans for me and chili with no beans for Bethany.

  My step is lighter. The humidity is lower, and the trees are thankful. Their branches hang with pride over the sidewalk instead of looking like the sun is beating them down. Even the birds are out. The most beautiful butterfly—yellow and black striped—flutters across my path and lands on the branch of a Crepe Myrtle.

  In the north, they look forward to the first sign of spring and get grouchy when the trees begin dropping their leaves. Not us here in the south. The first sign of fall means we survived another hot and humid summer.

  My phone vibrates when I cross the No Pink Caddy threshold.

  Aaron: I’m never a good boy, and you love it
. I’m glad everyone saw it. Could you point it out to the contractor for me? It’s not on my calendar because I don’t keep one. You’ve graduated to Grace’s calendar. Lucky you.

  Because I don’t have any time to properly respond, I send him a smiley face emoji.

  Cindy announces, “Okay, MK. Time for you to tell us how you did the floors.”

  I bounce to the brick wall that we use as our backdrop to film my interviews.

  Today, I will make a good day.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Aaron

  September

  Music Times @MusicTimesMagazine

  Sources close to LV casino mogul @RobertHaines say that @RealJohnnyKnite is very close to signing.

  Music Times @MusicTimesMagazine

  @RealJohnnyKnite will sign a multi-year residency contract at @CelestialPalaceCasino.

  Robert requested my presence at a meeting with him, his general manager, and a couple of his advisory board members. Grace has insisted on coming.

  “I can’t believe you’re wearing that,” she admonishes as the elevator takes us to the top floor.

  I look down at the fitted black pants and black button up shirt that wardrobe handed me. “What’s wrong with this?”

  She gestures at my feet and then my head. “Combat boots and a fedora. Can’t you just look normal every now and then?”

  “When the fuck did you start caring about what I wear? I’d have on jeans and shirt if it was up to me. What’s your problem?” She’s been moody since we got back from New Orleans yesterday. I’m the one who was told that I can’t play guitar. I’m the one with a fucked-up head. I should be the one who gets to be shitty.

  Her eyes look up at the lighted metallic ceiling. “This is an important meeting. And I’m glad that the shirt’s collar covers your love mark. So unprofessional.” She tsks. “Don’t talk about your hand for God’s sake.”

  At the mention of the H word, my hand flexes and then closes into a fist. Those shots were a miracle. I’m still pain free, and it hasn’t felt this good in months.

  The doors slide open, and we step into a room with three-sixty views of Las Vegas. It’s set up in a lounge configuration. A circular bar dominates the center. Couches and chairs with tables are placed to maximize the experience of feeling like you’re on top of the strip. The colors chosen remind me of royalty. They’re deep purples, rich reds, and lots and lots of gold.

  It’s empty except for the people we’re meeting and a man standing behind the bar wiping out a wine glass. Robert walks toward us with a warm smile on his face. He shakes my hand and brushes a kiss on my sister’s cheek.

  She seems less tense in his presence. This strikes me as odd. I assumed the reason she was being difficult in the elevator was that she was nervous about this meeting.

  He places his hand on the small of her back as he introduces us to the others in the room. The casino general manager is a sexy as hell blonde woman probably around my age. She’s wearing a fitted cobalt blue business suit with silver high heels covered in spikes. Her name is Dominique, and it fits her appearance.

  The other two guys are dudes in black slacks and loud shirts that look like contemporary art paintings. I’ve noticed the designer brand is sold in the hotel’s shopping area. I wonder if they intentionally dressed alike.

  A bourbon on the rocks is waiting for me, and Robert hands Grace a glass of white wine. She sits next to Robert, and I take a chair near the window.

  Robert begins, “Thanks for joining us, Johnny. I know you have a show in a couple of hours, and we’re looking forward to attending. The short set you played on Friday was really killer.”

  Nodding, I hold up my drink and then take a sip. Sometimes radio stations or venues will request me to perform a couple of songs the day before the concert. Usually it’s acoustic and doesn’t take up more than an hour of my time. What Robert asked was for something more than what I do for radio stations, but it honestly wasn’t a big deal.

  He continues, “I wanted you to meet the group that you’d be working with on your residency. Dominique, I managed to persuade away from the Hard Rock. She’s damn good at her job, and she was able to successfully negotiate two big names to perform with much accolades.”

  Dominique crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap seemingly pleased with her boss’s praise. That’s when I notice the blood red nails on her fingertips. She appears to be the kind of no-nonsense sort of person you’d expect to manage such a large operation. She looks like she could be a real ball buster. “I think you’d be very happy performing here. We’d, of course, give you much leeway in the design of your theater and work with you on the scheduling of the shows.”

  I’m being courted. It feels damn good to be wanted. Taking another sip of my drink, I let her statement hang in the dry, desert air for a moment. “I agree. It does make much more sense for my fans to come to me than to do another tour. We have six more months of pre-existing commitments. Then I’ll need to take some time off to recover.” I don’t add and fix whatever is wrong with my brain.

  Grace asks, “What’s your time frame?”

  Robert looks at his three employees and then replies, “We’d like to get a contract signed immediately. It will take some time to renovate the venue, and we need to promote and sell tickets at least six months before the first show.”

  I take off my fedora and run my hand through my hair. I wasn’t prepared to have to make a decision this quickly. My eyes cut to Grace’s hoping she can buy me some time. Instead of finding an ally, she looks like a kid who found out they get to live at Disney World. Standing, I slam the rest of my drink and place the empty glass on one of the tables. “Work out the details with Grace. I’ll review them and give it some thought. But right now, you’ll have to excuse me. I have a show to get ready for.”

  Robert stands and shakes my hand. “Of course. Grace will have something in her inbox before you leave Vegas.”

  As I turn away from the group, he adds, “Good luck tonight. Break a leg.”

  My hand goes up in a sort of wave as I smile a goofy smile. As soon as I’m in the elevator, I pull out my phone to call MK. She answers on the second ring.

  “Hi, Aaron.” My entire body loosens at the sound of her voice.

  “Hello, beautiful. How was your day?”

  “Great,” she replies enthusiastically. “We planned the grand opening, finished up some of the small details on the design, and began sorting my merchandising boxes. And I filmed my segment discussing the floor renovation.”

  “Busy day.” The doors open, and I head back to my room to change before going down to the venue. “I like they saw your mark. Did you show the contractor like I asked?”

  She huffs, “Of course not.” She pauses. “We can’t do that again.”

  “Oh my, MK. You know better than to tell me that I can’t do something.”

  “Fine. I’d prefer that you don’t do that again.” Then she changes the subject not giving me a chance to respond. “It’s all coming together. By the way, next time you’re in town, I need for you to sign the paisley with the music notes. Don’t ask. I think it’s dumb also, but Shannon said I must ask.”

  “Sure.” I shrug as I slide the card key into my suite door’s lock. “Have a minute? I need to ask you about something.”

  “Yeah. I’m just finishing making chili. Hold on one sec.”

  She puts the phone down while I wait. I make another drink and sit down on the chair that looks out over the beautiful casino grounds with the Vegas strip as the backdrop. My boots rest on top of the coffee table.

  “Okay. I’m back. What’s up?”

  I tell her about the Vegas residency opportunity. I also share about it being a one man show and their other ideas. When I’m finished, I settle in prepared for her to shoot me straight. It’s an incredible opportunity but a huge commitment. After the tour was over, I was prepared to head back to Austin and run Johnny Records. MK has thrown a wrench into those plans and so has
this Vegas deal.

  “Wow. Aaron, I have no idea what to say. This is so out of my league. I guess I don’t understand why you’re asking me. Wouldn’t Grace or your other management people be better able to help you make this decision?”

  My chest tightens as my blood pressure rises. There’s fire in my gut. She’s got an opinion about the hair on her legs when we’re about to make love, but now when it comes to committing the next couple of years to a show in Vegas she’s silent. “I’m asking you because this affects both of us. I don’t know what the financials look like yet, but I’m assuming they’re willing to open the casino vault. Therefore, all the people who I pay to help me increase the dollars I’ve made will think it’s a brilliant idea. I’m asking you what you think. Do you want me to make this commitment?”

  She sighs. “Here’s my answer. I want you to do what’s best for you. We can figure out how we can make the rest of our life work around your commitments. I’ve signed a contract with Cindy and Janet that says I’m committed to Burnt Sugar and my store for at least a year, and then they have the option to renew for the next five years. I can’t imagine there would ever be a time that I’d want to ditch No Pink Caddy. I’d hope that you wouldn’t try to dictate what I do with my career so I’m going to show you the same curtesy.”

  I don’t respond. For some reason, I’m angry. Like my-heart-is-racing-and-I-want-to-punch-something angry, and I don’t understand why. It’s better for me to stay quiet so I don’t say words that I’ll regret.

  “I can tell that I’ve said something to make you upset and I’m not sure what it is.” She pauses for a second. “I’m so proud of you that they’ve offered you this opportunity. I want to support you in your career and to make sure that you’re happy. Whatever I said that’s wrong, I’m sorry.”

  My left fist digs into my thigh, as my right hands tugs through my hair. “I’m an asshole. I want you to demand that I take time after this tour is over and spend it loving you. How ironic.” I chuckle. “I want you to be more selfish and demanding of me.”