I sat in the kitchen chair and placed the guitar on my lap, strumming out a tune I’d been working on since I arrived in LA. It was pretty damn lousy. My songs were never good enough, yet I still played around with them anyway. I mumbled out a few words about my dreams coming true and felt like a fraud.
With a heavy sigh, I cut the song short and began strumming a Michelle Branch tune that I knew by heart. It was a melancholy song that somehow seemed the only choice for that morning—“One Of These Days.”
The mournful words oozed out of me, and in spite of their sad tone, I felt better for singing it.
Josh’s face filled my mind, my ache for him growing to a deep-seated longing that I’d never be rid of.
I’d always been too afraid to call Payton home, worried I’d end up feeling trapped there, my promise to Mama slowly disintegrating as I turned myself into a career waitress.
But maybe I’d been blind to the truth.
As I strummed and sung, I had to wonder, because the little apartment in downtown LA felt like prison, and I was pretty sure that was not what Mama had in mind when she made me swear I’d do whatever it took to make it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Josh
A text.
She sent me a damn text message!
I wanted to call her back and give her a piece of my mind, but I didn’t have the words for it. Silence always accompanied my anger. I wasn’t one for shouting unless I had to. If anything, I’d rather use my fists to unleash my fury, but I ain’t never hit a woman. I saved my fists up for the odd man who deserved it, and that wasn’t going to change, ever.
I made do by smashing my phone down on the counter. I heard a crack but was too riled to care.
I’d poured out my heart to that girl, asking her how she was doing, trying to be supportive, and I got a two-sentence text that told me nothing!
My teeth were clenched so tight, I thought they might shatter under the pressure.
Damn it!
I wished I could take back my previous message about being supportive. I was a dang liar. I didn’t want to support her at all. I didn’t want her to make it. I wanted her home!
“She ain’t never called it that.”
Brock’s words punched me in the gut again.
I slammed my fist into the counter, hissing as my knuckles crunched into the wood. Duke barked out back, and then a soft tapping on the main door had me shaking out my hand. I was forced to get over myself as I swung it open and spotted Melody Piper. She’d been a family friend my entire life and was home from college on her summer break. A few nights back, her daddy had mentioned she was looking for some work, hinting that I should seriously think about it.
He’d been right, of course. I’d had several complaints from customers throughout the week about slow service, and Harriet’s tips were dropping thanks to picky patrons.
“Hey, Josh.”
“Afternoon, Mel. Come on in.”
She stepped past me, tucking a fine lock of dark hair behind her ear. It was a nervous habit she’d always had. I grinned, trying to ease her disquiet. She’d always been a jittery one.
“Why don’t you come on through and I’ll show you around.”
“Thanks.” Her sneakers squeaked on the floor, and it made me miss the sharp tap of Rachel’s boots. I held the thought in, guiding Melody through to the kitchen and explaining where everything was.
She nodded and listened real carefully. She was one of them studious A-plus kids at college. Her wide eyes were intent on my face as I talked and she was all serious, as if I was giving her the most important job in the world. It made me miss Rachel’s playful fire, and I had to glance to the floor several times while I was talking.
It wasn’t exactly rocket science, but she asked all these questions, and I was pretty sure after our half-hour conversation that she’d probably be a damn sight better at waitressing than Rachel ever would.
But heck, that wasn’t the point.
“Thanks so much for giving me this chance, Josh.” She tipped back on her heels, giving me the sweetest smile. “It’ll be great to earn a little cash this summer.”
“Hey, you’re doing me the favor.” I shrugged, digging my hands into my pockets.
Her gaze turned soft and sympathetic. “I bet you miss her.”
“Who?” I put on a brave front, thinking feigned ignorance would get me out of the conversation, but it didn’t work. She looked at me like I was as dumb as a load of bricks. Clearing my throat, I glanced across the bar and shrugged again. “Rachel’s doing real well. I’m proud of her.”
“It must be so excitin’. I always thought she had an incredible stage presence. I’m glad someone else could see that, too.”
Her comment made my mouth go dry.
Here I was being a stupid boy again, wanting to trap Rachel in my little cage. She deserved to fly free. The world deserved to see her soar.
Swallowing down my pride was going to be harder than I thought, but I could feel my iron grip slipping.
Melody slid her hands into her back pockets and scanned the empty bar floor. “Do you want me to stick around? I can work tonight if you need me.”
My smile was tight when I nodded. “Sure, why not. You can start by taking them chairs down and setting them round the tables.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Melody winked, forcing me to smile at her again.
Once she was working, I headed back to the bar, delicately picking up my phone and assessing the damage. A jagged crack scarred the glass. I muttered a curse, unlocking the screen to make sure it still worked. Thankfully, it did.
Rachel’s text jumped out at me again, and my eyes damn well started smarting.
I blinked a couple of times and deleted the text, deciding not to call her back.
What would it achieve anyway? She was on her way to making it. She didn’t need a backwater barman anymore.
Rachel had never claimed to be mine. I just made her that because I wanted it so bad.
Grinding my teeth together, I sniffed and slid the phone into my back pocket. It was time to put that girl out of my mind. Because whether I wanted to or not, I had to face the reality that sooner or later, I had to let my Rachel go.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rachel
It’d been six weeks since I texted Josh, and I hadn’t had one phone call or message back. I was being stubborn, too, I guess. But communication was a two-way thing. You send, he replies, you send, he replies! I was just waiting on his damn reply! That was all.
Truth was, I didn’t really want to talk to him. I didn’t want him knowing what I’d become. It was as good as it would ever get for me. I should have known, but having to admit that to him was too much. It wouldn’t matter how I explained it. I didn’t think he’d ever understand.
To him, I’d always been something special.
But I wasn’t.
Deep down, I’d forever be that homeless wretch. It didn’t matter how much makeup I wore or even if my voice was like an angel. I couldn’t change who I was, and working for Aren was proof of that. I could fight and pretend until the day I died, but I belonged in Club Liberation…I was just that kinda girl.
Gazing at my made-up reflection, I ran a finger over my eyebrow and leaned forward to check my lipstick. I was due on in ten minutes, and it was going to be a really big night.
Over the previous month or so, Sissy Hancock had become a hit. Aren, in his eternal greed, decided to dedicate one night a week to his new favorite country girl. I guess I didn’t mind it so much. At least I got to sing the kind of music I enjoyed the most. Sometimes he even let me have my guitar.
Not every time, though.
That particular night, I was on full display—wearing the shortest damn miniskirt you’d ever seen and the tiniest bikini top with white tassels on it. At least I had my hat and boots, a small comfort.
I was getting used to the club. The longer I stayed, the easier it was to slip into the routine. I’d learned to t
une out the catcalls and pretend the hands on my ass belonged to Josh and nobody else. I’d been slapped, petted, leered at and I could take it all.
“Rach, you’re up in five.”
I nodded at Susie. She was on programming tonight. I liked her better than sour-faced Annette, that was for sure.
Pulling in a breath, I stood from my chair and checked myself one last time. I’d lost weight…or maybe my waist just appeared tiny with absolutely no fabric to cover it. My fingers shook just a little as I ran them over my naked torso.
“You can do this,” I muttered.
Aren said I had to put on a good show. He had some bigwig from a recording company coming along. I nearly fell off my chair when he told me.
If he hadn’t been so damn smug about it, I probably would’ve said thank you. Instead, I told him I’d do my job and walked away.
Maybe part of me was excited. It might be my ticket out. If the guy liked me, I could move on to greater things. Surely anything had to be better than this, right?
“Rach, time to go!” Susie called.
I hopped to, prancing over to the stage stairs and putting my happy face on. I raised my hand to give Loretta a high-five as she ducked off the stage. Her ear-to-ear grin disappeared the second she was behind the curtain. She slapped my hand and then squeezed it. “Good luck, sister. This is your night. You go get that deal.”
I grinned and had to resist the urge to pull her into a hug. She’d turned out to be a real sweetheart. Taking a quick breath, I arranged my expression to the sexy smirk Aren made me practice all the time, and swayed my hips onto that stage. A cheer went up, punctured with wolf-whistles and hoots.
“Hey, boys,” I purred into the microphone, wiggling my eyebrows and increasing the noise in the club ten-fold. “How about we do us some singing.”
“These Boots Were Made For Walking” started up and I did my thing—butt swaying, body moving like liquid as I danced around the microphone and flicked my hair.
The crowd loved it. I crouched low and flirted with the front row while hungry hands grabbed for me. I’d learned to trust the bouncers, and it gave me more confidence to be the girl Aren insisted on. Jumping back, I teased the crowded dance floor and hoped Aren wouldn’t make me walk through after my set was over.
Back-up dancers joined me on stage as the song reached the second chorus. We performed the sexy little line dance we’d choreographed a few days earlier, sending the men into a frenzy. The song came to a finish, and I ended with my standard hair flick and chest thrust.
The thunderous applause and hollers gave me a minute to catch my breath. I swayed to the mic and looked across the stage to see what my next song would be. Aren had decided to make it a request night, so other than a few pre-planned songs, I was singing on the fly.
I gazed at the sign Susie held up for me and read, “Country’s Written All Over Me.” That song always made me think of Josh. I nearly shook my head, pretending I hadn’t heard of it before, but dang, I knew the song by heart, and as much as I didn’t want to bring Josh into that place, I hated the idea of not singing that tune. So I nodded and then actually smiled when Susie lifted up a guitar and held it out for me.
Yes! I raced for it and swung the strap over my head. Nestling the instrument against me, I strutted back to center stage.
“I love country,” I purred into the mic and started strumming.
It was an effort to sing the first line, but I did it…and then I saw my man—an apparition in the back of the club, and I sang that song just for him.
It made me miss him something fierce, but I got through it, belting out the lyrics to the back wall and grinning from ear to ear. Country was written all over me. People in that club would never be able to see it, but I’d tattooed Josh’s name on my heart years ago. It was there in permanent ink, and no matter what my future held, he’d always be a part of me.
That thought closed up my throat, and I skipped the final chorus, cutting the song short. No one seemed to notice or mind, and thankfully the next song had nothing to do with sentiment. I did have to lose my guitar after a fierce look from Aren, but when “Life Is A Highway” popped up on Susie’s sign, I nodded a quick yes. The beat started, and I pranced that stage and actually had me some fun. I got the crowd joining in for the chorus just like I used to in the bar.
I couldn’t help throwing my head back with a laugh as the song came to a finish. The rest of my set went real well, and I danced off that stage a happy girl. I got nights like that occasionally. They’d see me through and make me believe that a year wasn’t so long.
But then Aren was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, ready to ruin it all.
“Amazing.” He kissed my cheek, snatching my hand and pulling me out into the bar.
People noticed me right away, reaching out for me like they always did. I stayed close to Aren, ignoring the fingers brushing my skin as I walked past.
“Walter really liked your show.” Aren wiggled his eyebrows as he led me to a raised table in the back corner.
I’d been prepped for the meeting—sort of. I knew Walter Spence owned a company that recorded music videos and whatnot. Aren had invited him along to check me out, and I’d been told exactly what to say and do to impress him.
“Hello, Mr. Spence.” I put on my sexy voice and upped the drawl a little. “It’s a pleasure to meet ya.”
Aren said he’d love it.
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” He kissed my knuckles and pulled me around to sit beside him.
I plopped into the seat, sitting way closer than I meant to. I shuffled away, but he pulled me back to his side. He had short, fat fingers. They pressed into my thigh, giving it a little squeeze under the table. It took everything in me not to flinch away. He was acting like he owned me.
There was nothing I liked about the man. Even his expensive clothing and cologne couldn’t make him appealing to me. He was broad across the chest and shoulders…and belly. He had a big face, too, with jowls that reminded me of Josh’s bloodhound. He had a fine head of speckled hair, but he’d gone and ruined it by shellacking it down with a greasy-looking gel that made it shine.
My nose wrinkled before I could stop it.
“So, what’d you think, Walter?” Aren’s honey-coated voice was sickly sweet.
“I think I like what I see.” Walter’s pale gaze wandered my body, lingering on my breasts while his hand inched a little higher up my thigh.
I swallowed, resting my arm lightly on the table. “So, Aren tells me you’re in the recording business.”
“I am…and I’m after a girl just like you.”
“So, you liked my voice then?”
“Uh-huh.” He looked like the devil with an ace up his sleeve. I didn’t like his smile. I didn’t trust it.
“What would you have me singing?”
“I’m picturing a country theme, obviously. I have a team of writers who work for me, and I’m confident we can put something together that’s going to suit your style, Sissy.”
I should have found that encouraging, and I suppose part of me did, but I was nervous.
“You looked pretty fine up there with your guitar, like you were having a good time.”
“I love my guitar.” It wasn’t hard to smile when I said that.
“Perfect.” His grin was broad and fooled me into thinking that maybe he did have something to offer me. “I love talented ladies.”
His thumb caressed my thigh and I pressed my lips together, trying to hide how much it bothered me.
“The money’s good, Sissy. I could make you a rich lady.”
That part sounded nice. Maybe I could get myself enough to buy my way out of the contract with Aren.
“What kind of contract is it? I wouldn’t be locked into any kind of time frame, would I?” I couldn’t help glaring at my boss. His eyes rounded with warning, but I turned away from his furious gaze to listen to Walter.
“It’s per recording, so a case-by-case b
asis. The time frame is as long as it takes us to record the music and film the video.”
“Video?” I frowned.
“Music video.” He grinned.
Wow. He was offering me an album and a music video. That sounded pretty darn good.
“How much are we talking here?”
He leaned forward and whispered a number into my ear. The figure made me slightly dizzy. I jerked to look at him, making sure I’d heard him right.
“That’s right, Sissy.” He turned into me, crowding my space and using his free hand to caress my cheek. “I can make you a rich woman. I can make all your dreams come true.”
My lips quivered. They were shaking as I tried to reply, but all that came out was a little squeak.
He chuckled, leaning back and looking over his shoulder at Aren. “Let’s set something up. I’d like Rachel to give me a private performance so I can see her without all this crowd in the way. I’ll send you a list of songs I like, and she can work on those. Let’s aim for Wednesday. That’ll give her a few days to practice.”
“Will you want to meet with her afterward?” Aren tapped away on his smart phone.
“Definitely. If you can clear her schedule for the night. That way, if I like what I see, we don’t have to hurry through any discussions.” Walter turned to me, his pale eyes sparkling. “I’ll be able to show you exactly what you’ll be doing and give you a sample of the songs.”
“Sounds great,” my voice trembled.
“Done.” Aren placed his phone back on the table and grinned at me. He looked damn happy. I figured his finder’s fee was pretty sweet. There was no way he’d be giving me a night off if it wasn’t for something good. If the numbers Walter whispered in my ear were anything to go by, then I could understand why.
Aren would do everything in his power to make this happen for me, and I needed to do everything in my power to make it happen for myself. That much money would hire me a lawyer, and maybe he’d be able to find me just the right loophole to get me out of this thing. Maybe I was on my way.
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