by Dee J. Adams
A tear flew down her cheek and Casey prayed no one saw it. “I’m so happy for you,” she managed. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”
“You do too, Case.” He pulled away and looked her in the eyes, cupping her face with his warm hands. “You deserve it too.”
But she hadn’t won. “I expect great things from you.” She gave him a watery smile, trying to keep the heartache and failure buried deep, trying to keep positive for Brendan.
Seger closed in and Casey backed up to give him room. The guys bear hugged and Carrie showed up to hug her, then Brendan. In a few seconds, people filled the stage, congratulating Brendan and wrapping their arms around her.
It was over. She had nothing to show for her six weeks aside from the experience itself. Her life wouldn’t change the way she wanted. Her dreams weren’t coming true. Not yet. A knot of despair lodged in her throat and slowly grew. Fighting back the emotion that strangled her took everything Casey had.
When the red lights blinked off and the live show ended, Brendan found himself in a tornado of well-wishers, including his family, the production staff, the contestants and celebrities who hadn’t made it to the end—with the exception of Mitch—and even people he didn’t know.
The new sound guy took off his RF mic and although the equipment barely weighed anything, it felt as if a thousand pounds had been lifted from his shoulders. He craned his head, looking for Casey, hoping to have a real conversation with her. Somehow, he ended up in a packed room with people milling about, talking loudly and reliving the past six weeks. Wading through the throng was like swimming upstream in a wild current.
When he finally made it out to the hallway, someone snagged his arm and yanked him sideways through a door. Stumbling into the gray-tiled men’s room, Brendan looked up to see Seger, arms crossed over his chest, feet spread apart. The hard look in his eyes didn’t match the hug he’d given Brendan on camera a few minutes ago.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’re a songwriter? A musician?” Seger spread his arms. “Why the fuck did I have to find out like this?”
Brendan winced at his volume. “Have you been this mad at me since day one?” he asked, almost amused at his boss’s attitude. He rarely saw Seger this pissed off and he’d never been the recipient of his wrath. “Because I didn’t realize what a great actor you are too.”
“Quit sucking up. You didn’t leave me much of a choice, Bren.” Seger ran a hand through his short hair. “So spill. Why the secret?”
There was no way to ease around his fears and at this point he had nothing to lose. “Honestly…I was worried you’d think my songs sucked and you’d let me go. I kind of like my job.”
“Liked. Past tense,” Seger replied. He leaned against the sink and looked up at the ceiling. “Your life now belongs to Miles Griffith. I don’t know what your contract says, but I’m guessing he owns you for about the next seven to ten years.” He lifted one dark eyebrow for confirmation.
Brendan nodded. “Ten,” he mumbled. Actually it was seven albums, and Brendan doubted his ability to deliver that much music in ten years, which meant he’d be indebted to Miles even longer. Miles also received a portion of Brendan’s royalties from every song. Basically, if he was successful, he would pay for his five-hundred-thousand-dollar cash prize. He could make that money go a long way and had no plans to blow it all in a massive spending spree. “But I’ll have a career.” Please God, let him have a career. If this show was any indication, then he really did have what it took to make a living writing and playing music.
Seger nodded slowly. “Oh, you’ll definitely have a career. Miles is going to make millions because of you.” Nothing Seger said could’ve made him feel more validated and Brendan’s chest expanded with hope.
“Really? Millions?”
Rolling his eyes, Seger shoved from the sink and all but growled. “I can’t believe you didn’t come to me first.”
“I didn’t think you wanted your employees begging you to look at their material.” Brendan wasn’t sure if he should even mention the roadie, but at this point it didn’t matter. “I remember when Cameron approached you with his stuff and the next thing I knew he was gone.”
Seger’s eyes narrowed. “Cameron?”
“Yeah. That roadie guy last year. Cameron.”
“Dude.” His boss looked up and shook his head at the ceiling. “You thought I’d fire a guy because he showed me his songs? Seriously?”
Shit. Brendan knew a reality check when it hit him and this one bowled him over faster than that set wall last week. “So…that’s not what happened?”
“First of all, I appreciated the bravery it took for him to show me his songs. Not everyone gets to a place where they’re comfortable sharing their stuff.” He gave Brendan a knowing look. “But ultimately, he didn’t really have what it takes. I mean he didn’t play any instruments and his songs were more like poetry with never-ending lyrics. He didn’t have a catchy hook or decent bridge. The guy just wasn’t a songwriter, but I didn’t fire him for it. He got a call right after we met that his mother was in a serious car accident and he bolted. I didn’t fire him.”
Brendan wiped his hands down his face. Why the hell had he listened to the rumors? He could’ve saved himself months of aggravation not to mention the whole process of this damn show. Although the extra five-hundred grand would hold him over for a long time, so that made it worthwhile.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Seger said, folding his arms again. “But weren’t you ineligible to be part of this because you work in the music industry?”
“I don’t work in the music industry,” Brendan replied hotly. “I work for you, as your assistant. How is taking care of your VIPs at concerts and bringing you Starbucks and picking up your dry cleaning translate to working in the music industry? That’s a stupid rule that doesn’t apply to me.” Seger opened his mouth, but Brendan cut him off. “They would’ve held it against me anyway, so I didn’t tell them. Hey, I also work as a bartender. Shouldn’t that count for something?” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t notice you saying anything to me about the show before we started so I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.”
“I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone I was one of the celebrities, and that makes no difference anyway since I’m supposed to be in the recording industry,” Seger said, gesturing to himself.
Point taken. Brendan ran his tongue along his teeth as gratitude eased his temper. “Well, thanks for not rattin’ me out. I wasn’t sure if you were going to say anything when you saw me.”
Seger pointed a finger at him. “I have never been, nor will I ever be a narc.”
His boss was loyal to a fault and Brendan always appreciated that. He’d seen him defend his wife when fans had pushed her aside to get his picture. He’d watched him send money when a crewmember had been hurt rigging one of the road shows. He didn’t do a lot of talking and tended to let his actions speak for him. “Thanks, boss.”
Snorting, Seger shook his head. “I can’t believe I have to wait ten years to do a song with you.”
Those words totally stoked Brendan and another shot of adrenaline pumped him up. “You don’t have to,” he said. No reason he couldn’t convince Miles into releasing tonight’s song as his first single.
“Yeah, I do. Being on this show was one thing, but my record label is never going to get in bed with Miles. I’m not giving him God knows how much percent of one of my songs because you happen to be attached to it.” He headed to the door. “Just save me a few good ones, kid. I’ll be looking forward to it.” He stopped and turned slowly, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Shit. I need a new assistant now.”
Brendan’s affirmative showed in his wide grin.
“Shit,” Seger muttered then walked out the door.
Brendan took a second to run a hand through his hair before facing the mob outside. A quick check assured his prosthetic ear had weathered the night so far. Winning meant he’d be wearing this thing ninety-seven percen
t of the time from now on. Worth it.
Next on the agenda: find Casey. He had to get her alone for a few minutes, but how?
Family.
Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he texted Eric. Find Casey. Take her to… Where? Where could they meet and have a few quiet minutes? Outside? No, they’d be found in a hot second. He looked around the men’s room and shrugged. What the hell…it worked for Seger. Bring her to the men’s room and stand guard outside while we talk. He hit Send and waited a few seconds, then saw the little bubbles indicating his brother’s reply.
She’s talking to her sister. Looks pretty devastated.
“Shit,” he muttered. He typed back. Bring her now! Need to talk to her.
Don’t get ur panties in a wad. Gimme a sec. Be there ASAP.
The longest four minutes of Brendan’s life ticked by until the door finally pushed open and Casey peeked inside. Brendan heard his brother’s voice. “Go ahead. I won’t let anyone in.”
Casey saw him and looked everywhere but him as she closed the door behind her.
Winning suddenly seemed very superficial. Nothing really mattered except the woman in front of him. He took the few steps that put him closer, reached for her hands and pulled her in, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her tightly against him.
At first she seemed reluctant, but then she held on tight. So tight that fresh emotion clogged Brendan’s throat as he buried his face in her neck and smelled the sweet, fresh flowery scent of her. Before he thought too much about what he should or shouldn’t do, should or shouldn’t say, he pulled back enough to lay his mouth on hers. He meant to kiss her softly. Intended to start slow and ease into it, but the second she opened up to him, he lost sight of what he planned to do. Holding her head steady, he kissed her with all the pent up frustration, happiness and madness that coursed through his veins. He wanted her with a desperation that seized his gut. She stayed with him, giving back as good as she got, stroking her tongue against his, running her hands over his chest and around his neck to pull him even more closely against her. She was lightning in a bottle, fire in his arms.
Someone pounded on the door and shocked them both back to reality.
“Bren,” his brother called from the hallway, “you might want to hurry it up in there.”
“Are you okay,” Brendan asked her, ignoring his brother. He searched her eyes, hoping for a positive answer when deep down he knew she had to be crushed.
“I’ll be fine.” She stepped back and rubbed her knuckles against her lips as if kissing him might’ve been a mistake. “I’m really happy for you.” She quit looking at him and gestured toward the door. “You should go. I’m sure everyone is looking for you.” More pounding on the door confirmed it.
He stepped toward her, hating that she seemed to be putting him at a distance. “Look, I know it’s going to be busy and crazy for the next week or two, but I need to see you outside of this circus. You know what I mean?” No way in hell was he losing her a second time. Once had been plenty.
She nodded. “I know. We’ll stay in touch. It won’t be hard to find you.” She gave him a lopsided grin, but still avoided eye contact. It was like jumping out of a plane with no parachute. The writing was on the wall.
Brendan took a few steps that brought them closer together. “I’m serious. You and me. Taking it from where we left off in Hawaii. I want to see you, Case. As often as I can.”
More pounding on the door wrecked the quiet conversation. “You’re on borrowed time, brother,” Eric called from the hall.
“Seeing each other is going to be kind of hard while you’re on your victory tour,” Casey said, glancing toward the door. Translation: You’re on your own.
“I know. But it’s only going to be for a week or two. I’m not letting you get away, Case. Just remember that.” She might’ve left him once, but he knew how to find her now.
A ruckus broke in the hallway and the sound of Danny’s voice carried through the walls. “Get off him, asshole!”
“Shit,” Brendan hissed, heading for the door. Danny wouldn’t hesitate to jam his fist into someone’s face. He didn’t have nearly the amount of patience as Eric did. “Time’s up.” He looked back at Casey even as he heard the shoving match in the hallway. “I’m serious. We stay in touch.” He opened the door to find his brothers holding back a handful of show and network executives alike with security headed toward them. Great. “I’m here, I’m here.” Two seconds later, the crowd swallowed him like a small fish in a bowl full of piranhas.
The next week was a whirlwind for Brendan. Forced to come out of his comfort zone, he did every talk show known to man. Mornings, midday and late night. He talked to women, men, and tag teams. He answered the same questions until he was blue in the face when what he really wanted was to be spending time with Casey, writing music and getting down to the reason he went through this whole shitstorm.
The show flew him to New York, Chicago and Texas then back to New York before coming home again. Casey hadn’t picked up or returned any of his calls and he was ready to call Blake and take advantage of his brother’s PI skills to track her down. Yeah, so maybe he’d called her at a few bad times, but the fact that she’d never called him back rubbed him as raw as a road-rash. As each day passed he got surlier and surlier, and winning the damn show hadn’t turned into everything it should’ve been.
He’d just walked into his apartment—exhausted, pissed and hurt—when his phone rang. He hadn’t had five minutes of privacy since winning the show and every time his phone buzzed his hopes soared that Casey was finally returning a call.
Nope. Again, it wasn’t her and his anger and hurt balled up in his chest like it had all week long. Miles’s number flashed on the screen.
“Hey, Miles,” Brendan said, tossing his bag toward his room and heading for the kitchen. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?”
Brendan froze at his tone. He was one pissed off motherfucker.
“I’ll tell you what’s up, you little shit.” The slam hit Brendan like a four ton anvil. “You’re out, that’s what’s up. You lied on your application, which disqualifies you from winning. I can’t believe the amount of money I spent flying you across the fucking country, the time my company spent booking you on every fucking talk show that matters and you didn’t think we’d find out that you lied about working in the music industry!”
“But I didn’t! I—”
“Save it! You’re no bartender! You worked for Seger Hughes! That’s music!”
Something ripped over the phone and it may as well have been Brendan’s heart. He never thought it would happen like this. He’d made a plan this past week. Had a direction and a way to make his life exactly what he wanted.
“That was your fucking contract and the money that went with it. You’re back to being a nobody, kid. Congratulations.” The phone went dead and Brendan stared at the blank screen. A sick knot filled his throat and his stomach plummeted to the floor. How had Miles found out? Who had told him? Not that it mattered now.
He’d just kissed away a half million dollars and potentially…a future in music.
Chapter Seventeen
Casey plopped down on her sofa with a big bowl of popcorn and channel surfed on the flat screen television from the karaoke competition. She settled on a rerun of a DIY show. Someone was always getting a brand new house or spectacular new landscaping. No losers on those shows. Nope. Everyone came out a winner. The homeowners got a new place or space and the show got ratings. A win-win. Unlike her experience. She’d been so close to having it all.
For the past week the phone had been ringing non-stop. The first few days, she’d answered, but soon she realized it wasn’t producers calling her to make music, it was news organizations asking about how it felt to lose the biggest new show of the year. She hadn’t picked up any calls since, with the exception of her sister. She hadn’t even bothered listening to a dozen voicemails after hearing the first few. Zoe hadn’t lectu
red her or given her the patented it’s going to be okay response. Casey waited for someone to want her for her music and no one did. The phone quit ringing and she needed an adjustment period. She needed to let the laundry stack up and dishes sit in the sink. She needed to focus on absolutely nothing, then maybe figure out how the hell she could still realize her dream.
She’d been so focused on the show that breaking up with Jeff hadn’t really hit her. Not that she would’ve changed her mind. But with nothing to look forward to, she felt…lost.
Ignoring Brendan’s texts and calls had made her sick to her stomach. She wasn’t avoiding him maliciously; it was just hard knowing he was living the life she craved. She stuffed popcorn in her mouth, hating how much she disliked herself and drowning in guilt. She’d tried answering a few of his texts, but nothing sounded right. She either sounded depressed or fake. Brendan deserved better. He had a new life and new responsibilities. Was he loving it? Was he adjusting? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? She could find out if she just answered his damn call. Her chest got tight as the monumental size of her mistake dawned on her. She shouldn’t have cut him off. How would she feel if he’d done the same thing to her? God, she was an idiot. She sat up. It wasn’t too late. She could fix this. She’d call him right now.
She chomped on a last mouthful of popcorn as she reached for her phone on the coffee table. It rang before she got to it. Checking the screen, she recognized the number from the studio. Why would they be calling? Did they want to do some kind of follow-up segment with the big loser? She mentally smacked herself. She had to quit doing that to herself. It was as if Jeff still occupied a place in her brain and berated her.
That had to stop. Pronto.
Something told her this was one phone call she should take. “Hello?”