by Geri Glenn
Copyright
Copyright ©Geri Glenn, 2016 at Smashwords
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
All That Glitters is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
This ebook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the reader. It is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
Cover Art
Starcrossed Covers
Editing
Rebel Edit and Design
Formatting
Tracey Jane Jackson
CONTENTS
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Acknowledgements
To Elaine Holcomb – Though not my regular story type, this story was for you. Your courage and struggles were at the forefront of my mind the entire time I wrote this, and I am proud to call you friend, even if we’ve never met.
To Christina DeRoche – Thank you for being you and helping me struggle through plotting.
To Jacqueline M Sinclair – Where would I be without you? I love you, lady.
To Amanda DiPierro – You are my favorite pimp, and don’t ever forget it. I could never write without your help in all other areas of my promotion!
To Nicole Lloyd – My fastest beta reader, and other favorite pimp. Thank you for all you do.
To Johnna Siebert – Thank you for working so hard to get your authors out there. We couldn’t do it without you!
To Tracey Jackson – Your opinions mean the world to me, and your formatting saves me every time. Thank you!!!
To Ally at Starcrossed Covers – This premade seemed made for this story, and I was floored when I saw it. Thank you for the beautiful cover and the amazing customizing you did for me.
To Dana at Rebel Edit & Design – My words are nothing without you. Editors like you are so hard to find, and you make me look good ;) I can’t praise you enough.
To The Bloggers – There are way too many blogs to name them all, but you know who you are. If you’ve ever shared, posted or commented on my work, THANK YOU a million times over. Without you, nobody would have even heard of Geri Glenn.
To My Readers – Your support blows me away. I will never be able to express how much you all mean to me. Love each and every one of you.
Dedication
To the strong women – past, present and future – that are diagnosed with breast cancer. Keep fighting.
Chapter One
“I’M SO VERY sorry, Miss Brogan.”
My entire body is frozen in shock as I stare back at the doctor, unsure exactly what she is trying to say. “Malignant. What does that mean?”
She folds her hands on top of her desk and presses her lips together. “It means the biopsy proved that the lump in your breast is cancer.”
I flop back in my seat and my hand flutters to my throat. I fight back the bile and concentrate on taking slow, regular breaths. “What can we do about it?” My voice is strangled and my throat aches as I brace myself for what her answer may be.
“At this stage, I believe that our best course of action is an immediate lumpectomy, followed by an aggressive chemotherapy treatment.” A tear slips down my cheek as I sit across from the doctor I’ve only met with once before, my body trembling in fear. “Miss Brogan, is there someone you’d like me to call? A family member perhaps? You really shouldn’t be dealing with this on your own.”
I swallow and shake my head, my face set in stone. “No, it’s okay. I don’t really know anyone in Nashville.”
Dr. Begley stands, walks around her desk and perches herself on the edge, directly in front of me. “Where is your family, Kinsley?”
“Canada,” I whisper, feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt.
“I think you should consider doing your treatment in an environment that you will have your loved ones around you.” I don’t tell her that I only have one loved one—my dad. Other than that, I’m completely alone. “I’ve went ahead and scheduled your surgery for this coming Thursday. I feel it’s best to remove that lump as soon as possible. After that, we can discuss your chemotherapy. If necessary, I can contact a doctor near your family to start the process there.”
I swallow down the giant lump I feel forming in my throat and take the appointment slip from her. She gives me a brief pre-operation rundown, but I barely hear what she’s saying. When she stands from where she’s perched, I take that as my cue to leave and stand as well, shaking her hand and mumbling a brief farewell.
I walk out of the office with my purse clutched to my chest, my pre-op instructions crammed into my fist. I have cancer. I’m only twenty-four years old, and I have cancer.
Stepping out the main door and onto the sidewalk, I am immediately greeted by my driver. I don’t know his name because the limo service sends a different one almost every time, and this is the first time I’ve had this guy. He opens the back door for me without a sound and waits until I’m inside before closing it behind me.
As the car pulls out onto the busy street, I watch the medley of pedestrians as they hurry to their next meeting or appointment, oblivious to the fact that my life has just irrevocably changed. Just when my dream had finally come true too.
Barely a year ago, I’d been playing my guitar at a little coffee shop in Toronto when a music producer had approached me. He’d loved my songs and my voice, and before I knew it, I had a recording contract with one of the biggest country music recording labels in the US, and a fancy new penthouse condo in Nashville. I had just finished recording my first album last week.
It’s not fair! Everything was going so good for me. A sob bursts from my chest and I stop fighting back the tears. My body shakes with the force of my cries. I let it all out—my anger, my frustration, my pain, but mostly my fear. What if I can’t beat this?
Chapter Two
“DO YOU HAVE any idea how much money we’ve invested in promoting this tour?”
I sit in the chair, watching as Neal Valliant, the record label representative in charge of my contract, paces back and forth in front of the window. “I know, Neal. And I’m so sorry.”
He freezes mid-step and turns his head towards me. “Oh, sweetheart, that sounded terrible. I didn’t mean it like that at all. You have nothing to be sorry about. I will deal with all of that. Besides, it’s not forever, right?” He takes the seat beside me and squeezes my hand. “We’ll start planning your tour again once you kick this cancer’s ass.”
I force a smile and nod.
“When’s the surgery?” he asks quietly.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“You’re going to do great, Kinsley.”
My chin quivers a little as I smile sadly at him. The truth is, besides the doctor that gave me the news yesterday, this is the first I’ve talked to anyone about it. It still doesn’t seem real to me. I tried to call my dad, but as usual, he didn’t answer. He was likely out fishing, or working in his woodshop. He probably hasn’t noticed that I’d even called and left a message.
“This could work to our advantage,” Paula says from her chair, off to the left. Her fingers stroke her lips, and you can practically see the wheels spinning as she tries to come up with a way to present this to the public. Paula Quinn is the recording label’s pub
licist, and someone that I have never quite managed to connect with, though I can’t really put my finger on what it is about her that I don’t like.
“We could make a public statement about your cancer, and follow your journey with bi-weekly updates, photo shoots, and TV interviews. ‘Rising country star battles deadly cancer.’ The public will eat this up!”
Neal and I exchange a glance, and I can tell from him expression that he disagrees with Paula’s idea just as much as I do. I feel like I’m drowning. Ever since I’d gotten the news that I have breast cancer, I’ve felt like I’m underwater. Now, listening to Paula, I just want to sink to the bottom and be alone. I haven’t even had this contract for a year. I have to listen to Paula. And she’s saying she wants to turn this whole terrible disease into a money making publicity story.
“I … Paula, I’m really not comfortable with the media being—”
She waves me off and rolls her eyes, as if I’m being silly. “We can talk about all of this later. You worry about taking care of you, darling. Your surgery is tomorrow?”
I stare back at her, my scalp prickling with unease, and nod.
She smiles at me then, and I can’t help but compare the look of it to the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “You’re going to do great, sweetie.”
Neal clears his throat to get my attention. “You go home and rest, sweetheart. I will take care of everything. You said you are going to your father’s house while you do your treatment?”
I nod and bite my lip. “Just as soon as I tell him.”
Chapter Three
I PULL MY rental car to a stop just outside of my childhood home, and feel some of the weight that’s been pressing down on me suddenly lift. I’ve missed this place so much. As amazing as it has been to live out my dream in Nashville, no place will ever be home to me but here.
Grabbing my bag, I walk up to the front door and let myself inside, heading straight for my old bedroom. Dishes are piled high in the sink, and I don’t miss the laundry scattered around the living room and bathroom as I pass by, a reminder that I hadn’t told my dad I was coming, or why. I didn’t know how. I still don’t. How do you tell someone you love that you have a disease that could kill you, without causing them pain or fear?
After dropping my bag in my room, I slowly make my way out to the main living area, collecting Dad’s dirty socks and T-shirts as I go. I make a full sweep of the house, thankful for a mundane task, and put in a load of laundry. I spend the next two hours doing dishes and vacuuming, cleaning up the house until it is spotless.
When it’s all finished, a dull throbbing starts in my breast. I’d done way more than the doctor had recommended. I dig my pain pills out of my bag, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and grab my favorite quilt, then head outside to the old Adirondack chair down by the water.
Once I get settled, I lay my head back and cast my gaze out across the lake. This, right here in this chair, in this spot, is my favorite place in the world to be. Every song I’d ever written, every guitar chord I’d ever learned, was all written and learned in this very spot. Closing my eyes, I listen to the sounds of a late summer day by the lake, peace finally filling me. This is exactly what I needed.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I must have fallen asleep because when a hand touches my shoulder, I’m out of the chair in an instant, my heart trying to remember how to beat.
“Dad! You’re home. God, you scared the crap out of me!”
Dad takes a seat in the chair beside mine, his head tilted to the side, his forehead creased in a frown. Even with his concerned expression, Clay Brogan is still a handsome man. He’s tall, at least six foot two, and his hair is a light shade of brown, just starting to show a light peppering of grey throughout the temples. At forty-eight years old, he could easily still pass for forty.
“What are you doing home, Kins?” His words aren’t harsh, but I flinch anyways. I don’t want to hurt him with this, but I need to dig deep and grow a pair, and just tell the man what’s going on.
“I need to talk to you about something, Dad.” I draw in a deep breath and feel the tears pricking at the back of my eyes. “A few weeks ago, I found a lump in my breast.” I watch as his body goes deathly still. “They uh … they did a bunch of tests and a biopsy, and they found that it was cancer.”
Dad’s eyes fall closed, and his chin drops to his chest, but he says nothing, so I continue, just wanting to get it over with. Kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid. “A couple of days ago, they performed a lumpectomy and removed it. It was bigger than they expected, but they think they got it all.”
His eyes lift to mine and his voice shakes when he asks, “So it’s gone?”
I shrug my shoulders and turn in my chair, my legs over the sides. “I think so, but I have to start chemotherapy. My doctor suggested that I do that close to family, and well, that’s you. I’m sorry to just barge in here like this, but I think she’s right. Being with you and here at the lake will be just what I need. I hope it’s okay?”
Dad reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Don’t ever apologize for coming home, little girl. You’re always welcome here, you know that. As for the rest, you said you found the lump a few weeks ago, so why am I just now hearing about it, after you’ve already had surgery?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I whisper, a tear finally escaping and sliding down my cheek.
My father’s eyes search mine, and I see him take a deep breath. “Well, you’re here now. I’m going to go get supper going. You hungry?”
For once, my father’s disconnection from others works to my advantage, and after I give him a brief nod, he stands and walks towards the house. I watch him go, my heart full of love for him.
Chapter Four
IN NASHVILLE, EVERY second of my time had been taken up by recording my album, photo shoots, and working on my first couple of music videos. I rarely had time to relax, and there was never a quiet moment. Being home these past couple of days has been heaven.
I’ve spent most of that time in my chair by the lake, reading a book that I’d been wanting to read for ages. I had turned off my cell phone and never touched the TV or radio, thankful for the brief retreat from reality. My dad has been around, but has left me to my own devices, much like it used to be when I actually lived here.
My chemo starts in just a couple of days, and I’m a little nervous about how that’s going to go. The treatment itself takes a few hours, and the hospital is over an hour away. I’d arranged to have a driver, but my father insisted on taking the day off work so that he can take me. I hate to be a burden to him, but I’m so thankful that he will be there with me that first time.
I’ve decided that since I won’t be real hungry over the next few months, I should treat my father to one of his favorite home cooked meals, but after looking through the pantry, it’s clear to me that I need to run into the village and get some supplies. I jot down a quick note and leave it on the table for him to find when he gets back from fishing. He left in the boat over an hour ago, so I’m willing to bet that I beat him back anyways.
I grab the truck keys off the key rack by the door and hop into Dad’s old brown pickup. Starting it up, I can’t contain my smile at the familiar sound of the engine roaring to life. I’d learned to drive in this old truck, and driving it brings me a sense of nostalgia.
The drive into the village takes about fifteen minutes, and then I pull to a stop in front of Casey’s Country Store. Casey’s has been in this town since my dad was just a kid. I don’t think they’ve even done an upgrade since then. A song idea flits through my mind as I think about how much this whole town has been a part of my life.
I move through the store, selecting the things I need to make a lasagna and Caesar salad, my mind thinking through the song. I look forward to getting home so I can dig out my guitar and start working on it. I haven’t written a new song in so long. Not since I moved out to Nashville.
Walking u
p to checkout, I place my purchases on the counter and am surprised when I hear, “Kinsley Brogan? Is that you?”
My head whips up to see the cashier and I freeze when I see that it’s Lana McSween. I hadn’t seen her since high school, and I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing her again at all. Lana had been one of the most popular girls in school. She had also been the nastiest. Lana had always been sure to make me aware that she was better than me, and had done what she could to make sure everyone else knew it too.
“Lana … hi.”
“Oh my God! It’s so good to see you! It’s been forever!”
I blink back at her. Why the heck is she being so nice to me? “Yeah,” I say slowly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
She starts ringing through my groceries. “I couldn’t believe it a few months back when I heard you on the radio. I mean, Kinsley Brogan? From my high school? That’s crazy, right? But your song, it was so good. And since then, I hear you on there all the time. I’m so happy for you.”
Her rapid words and high-pitched voice are so phony, and I don’t even know how to respond. Giving her a tight smile, I hand her my cash and wait for her to hand me my change.
“Of course, then I heard the news.” Her lip juts out in an exaggerated pout. “I didn’t believe it at first, but then why else would you come all the way back here? You poor thing. You must be devastated. I mean, all that hard work was finally paying off, and then you find that out.” Her eyes lower to my chest and I can’t breathe. How does she know about this? She points at my chest. “Are you going to have to …?”
I gape at her, horror filling me that she knows. If Lana knows, then everyone must know. I’m not ready for everyone to know yet. “How do you—?”