Hillbilly Rockstar

by Christina Routon

  Trace broke contact with Michelle and stepped back, looking away from her, and saw Lisa standing off to the side, watching them. That feeling hit him again, the punch-in-the-stomach feeling he hadn't been able to shake since their kiss Monday night, and he knew without question why not.

  ###

  Jealousy flared through Lisa when she saw the kiss. I knew it. One woman is as good as another. She stood still, unable to move, even as Trace made his way to her.

  "Hey, glad you came by. Can you stay for a while?"

  She shook herself free, realizing she needed to focus. "No, I can't. I need to get back to the office. I brought information on some interviews you've been scheduled to do." She pulled two sheets of paper from her bag. "You and Michelle seem to have hit it off. Isn't that nice."

  She heard the iron in her voice, hated the way the hard tone made her sound. She sounded jealous and petty and mean. But so what. She felt jealous and petty and mean. "Here." She handed the papers to Trace. "I think the studio has already let Michelle know about the interviews. You need to be there at eight tomorrow morning."

  She watched him glance over the information and her heart thudded against her chest. How could it break when they weren't in a relationship? When they'd just met? But it was breaking and she couldn't help it. She'd been the one to stop everything after all.

  "Do you need a ride to the interviews? I can send a car for you." Lisa went into manager mode, still hearing the shrill, business-like tone in her voice.

  "No, I'll drive my truck. I know where to go." He looked up at her and Lisa felt like drowning in his dark brown eyes. Before she got too comfortable in their depths, she turned away, back to business.

  "Okay, I'm heading back to the office. I'll check back with you later." She turned to leave, but Trace took her arm.

  "Hey," he said, holding her in a gentle grip.

  "What?" she answered, her voice raw and rough.

  "Michelle kissed me." He let her arm go. "Just wanted you to know."

  "None of my business, but okay." Lisa blew it off, tried to blow it off, but inside she felt peace flow over her aching heart. "See you later." Those words weren't harsh and rough and mean. They'd grown soft. She couldn't continue to feel that away about him and someone from his past. That's what it was, his past. And she was the one who'd stopped anything from happening between them anyway. It was none of her business if he wanted to date someone else.

  She told herself these things as she walked away from the studio, struggling to help her brain accept what her heart kept saying wasn't true.

  Chapter Eight

  Trace's truck parked in the garage attached to Cahill-Waters just before noon Wednesday. He grabbed the bags full of Chinese food he'd bought, locked his truck, and stepped into the lobby of Cahill-Waters.

  It had been a while since he'd been there. The reception area looked the same -- tile floors, reception desk, offices to the back. The furniture had been updated. Instead of the inexpensive chintz sofa and chairs Charlie had bought years ago for the lobby, Trace saw a sophisticated, contemporary leather sofa flanked by two similar looking chairs.

  He must have seen Lisa there at some point since she said she'd worked for Charlie for about six years. He didn't remember Charlie mentioning her, but that didn't surprise him. Trace knew there were days, weeks, months, hell, even years, that he couldn't remember.

  He walked through the reception area and over to the desk where the receptionist was stacking files.

  "Excuse me, Ellen," Trace read her name from the placard on her desk. He'd surprised her -- she startled when he said her name. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I wanted to see Lisa Jenkins. I brought lunch."

  "Oh, how thoughtful. Lisa is to the right and down the hall."

  "She's in Charlie's office? I guess that would make sense."

  "She's always worked in Charlie's office." Trace heard Ellen's voice slow, becoming wary. "I need to call and let her know you're coming back."

  "Sure, no problem. It's Trace Harper. I'm a client of hers."

  "Of hers?" Ellen had the strangest look on her face, as if she had bitten into a sour candy.

  "Yes, hers. Go ahead and call her."

  Ellen picked up the phone and pressed a button, never taking her eyes off Trace.

  ###

  Lisa sat at her desk, paperwork scattered all over the desktop. She was clearing out all of Charlie's files so that Boyd and the other managers could deal with the clients they'd kept. There was material in the files that hadn't been touched in years. She went through each file, making a decision for storage or to keep in the office. She wanted everything to be documented as best as she could before she left. Boyd had seemed disappointed that she was leaving, but she knew she was making the right decision. Now she just needed to prove it to someone, as well as herself.

  She smelled something. Sweet and sour chicken? One of the staff must have ordered Chinese take-out for lunch. The smell wafted closer and suddenly Trace filled the doorway, bearing plastic bags that smelled heavenly. But he couldn't be here, not now.

  "Trace," she jumped from her desk, turning her nameplate that read Secretary face down on the shiny surface. "What are you doing here?"

  "I thought I'd bring you lunch and tell you about the interviews. Did you see any of them? They went well." He set the bags on Charlie's empty desk. "I like the office. It's different from the last time I was here. There's new carpet, and curtains I think." He turned towards Lisa. "It's good you got Charlie's old office."

  "I enjoy being here, even though I miss him." She stepped from behind her desk, picked up the bags and gave them back to Trace. "Trace, you need to go. I have a client coming in ten minutes. I don't have time to eat right now." The lie rolled from her tongue more easily than she was comfortable with, she realized. She started to head out of the office into the hallway, trusting he would follow. "I can meet you tomorrow or Friday on the way to rehearsal."

  "Lisa, you need to eat lunch. Why won't you eat with me?" Trace stood his ground, still standing at Charlie's desk.

  Lisa walked back towards him. "Trace, I don't have time." She took a deep breath. "I have another client coming, and I'm trying to get these old files cleaned out. Mr. Waters is out of town so I'm handling his phone calls and sending them to our other managers. I am swamped, and I just don't have time to sit and eat anything right now. Could you please go, and I'll see you tomorrow?"

  Trace looked into her eyes, seeming to look for something. Lisa met his gaze.

  "Okay, I understand. What about supper? You need to eat."

  "I'll get something on the way home." She shooed him down the hall, back to reception. "I'll call you later this afternoon when I get off work. You can tell me everything that happened today. Did you make a new friend? Did you color a picture? Did you cut with scissors?"

  "Funny, Lisa, funny. I can walk by myself, you know." Trace reached the lobby and turned away from the glass doors.

  "I couldn't help it. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She pushed him towards the exit door, even holding it for him so he could walk through.

  "Okay, talk to you later." He started to leave, then stopped and pulled out one of the plastic to-go boxes. "Here, go ahead and take the lunch. Boss or no boss, you still need to eat something."

  "Thanks, Trace." Lisa took the box, enjoying his thoughtfulness but knowing she had to keep him away from the place. It looked like she'd dodged a big one this time. "Promise you won't come back to the office unless we have a scheduled meeting?"

  "Sure, I won't come back," he said. Lisa thought he was going to say something else, but instead he turned and headed out of reception and toward the parking garage. Lisa watched him leave and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  ###

  Friday's dress rehearsal was long and hot and tiring, but Trace loved it. He loved the energy, the focus, the camaraderie between the performers and the crew. It was similar to the energy he'd felt when performing. Being around the young performers
with all their hopes and dreams yet to come true made him feel twenty again.

  When they finally had a break for dinner, Trace headed to the craft services table to grab a sandwich and find a seat. He was bone tired and ready to drop.

  "Feels great, doesn't it?" He turned and saw Michelle behind him.

  He nodded, swallowing his bite of turkey club. "TV is different than a live performance, but the energy is still here. The audience out there, the busyness backstage."

  "It's pretty normal for me, I guess." Michelle sat next to him, opening her can of soda. "I've hosted the show for two years, plus performing and recording. But this year it's become pretty much my life."

  "Well, you are performing, just in a different way."

  Trace took another bite of his sandwich as Michelle paused, apparently thinking this over, and sipped her drink. "I guess you're right. But I really love the performance nights. Those are the ones you don't worry about camera angles or what you said or how you said it or anything else. Where you just do your best to give your audience the best show you can. If you can, it's a special gift for everyone involved."

  "TV allows us to do that with more of an audience. But I agree, even this reality show isn't the same as performing live." Trace took another bite of his sandwich and watched as the crew set up the lighting for the next performer. An assistant wearing a headset and carrying a clip board starting heading toward them, her eyes set on Michelle.

  "Well, looks like I'm about to be called off for something or other. Good talking to you, Cowboy." Michelle put her drink down on the table. "We still need to catch up. Last time I saw you, you'd married one of your biggest fans."

  "Yeah, well, I don't really want to talk about that. Trixie was a mistake."

  "Sorry to hear that."

  "Michelle," Mary, the production assistant, interrupted. "You need to change for your next introduction. Trace, we need you to change as well. You and Michelle will be working on the last intro and the closing together." Mary ran backstage as fast as she had appeared.

  "Well, we're being called to duty. We'll definitely get together one night, right? Maybe this week?"

  "Sure, we'll see how it goes."

  "See you 'round, Cowboy." Michelle tapped the brim of Trace's hat before she walked away, grinning.

  Trace laughed, shaking his head, remembering how she'd coined his nickname when they'd worked together ten years ago. He'd started wearing the black hat as a gimmick, starting the look that most male country singers adopted today. She'd called him a cowboy wannabe and the name stuck.

  He couldn't believe it had been ten years. He'd signed with Charlie when he was twenty, learning all he could from the already veteran manager, and hit the big time at twenty-six, the year after he'd worked with Michelle. Ten years of living in the spotlight. Sometimes it was a good thing. Sometimes it sucked big donkey balls. But he wouldn't trade one single minute of it for anything in the world.

  ###

  Lisa entered rehearsal studio B for the first time, looking for Trace. She hadn't seen him since he'd shown up at the office Wednesday with lunch. She'd avoided Ellen's questions and kept doing her job, glad every morning she was one day closer to never having to go back.

  She hadn't meant to come here tonight, hadn't meant to find Trace, but she had more promotion material to go over with him and it seemed like the best time to get it over with. Hell, it was an excuse, she knew it. At least she was admitting it. There was no reason for her to come across town to the studio and catch him during rehearsal when she could just call him and meet him on Monday. The next interviews weren't scheduled until the following Wednesday. But when she'd found herself staring out the window, daydreaming about the kiss they'd shared, she knew it was time to do something. She had to see him, had to prove to herself that it was all a fantasy built up in her mind. No matter what he'd said to her, none of it was real.

  And I guess I was right, she thought, seeing Trace and Michelle sitting side-by-side at a long table near the buffet, sharing a dinner break.

  "Just couldn't wait to swoop right back there again, could you?" she whispered to herself. She watched them talking, laughing, having a pretty good time. Something squeezed in her gut, twisting it around like a braid. She recognized the jealousy immediately. And why wouldn't she be jealous of Michelle Nelson? She was only one of the hottest country stars in the business. She'd worked with Trace years ago, so they knew each other. Rumor was, back then, that they were more than songwriter-slash-performer. She was younger, she was famous in her own right, she had number one songs, platinum albums and a body men adored. Who could compete with that? She certainly could not. Well, what did you expect? You turned him down.

  Because he was being a jerk, she argued back, and he didn't mean anything he said. All you have to do is look at the two of them to see that.

  Maybe you're not seeing what you think you're seeing, her conscience said again.

  "Shut up," Lisa whispered, not wanting to seem crazy by continuing to talk to herself out loud. But she was tired of the voices in her head -- her own and Danny's.

  Chapter Nine

  An assistant walked over and said something to Michelle. Lisa froze, watching as Michelle tapped the brim of Trace's hat and gave him a big smile. That was a flirty smile if she'd ever seen one. Michelle walked away, following the assistant. Lisa watched Trace shake his head as Michelle walked away, her hips swaying. When he turned around again, she walked over to the table.

  "Seemed like I interrupted something." She plunked her purse and binder on the table and sat down, her arms folded.

  "Just dinner. We're about to do a wardrobe change and rehearse some introductions and the closing. Want to come along?" He stood and held out his hand.

  "No, I can't. I wanted to go over some things with you, but it can wait." She stood, picking her purse up again, but didn't move. When she continued to just stand there, he dropped it to his side.

  "What's wrong?"

  Lisa shifted her purse from one shoulder to another. He was flirting with Michelle and he wants to know what's wrong.

  "I'm not going to bother you. I needed to let you know of a few more interviews scheduled for next week. I have the details here." She took the information from her binder and handed it to him. "Just keep them where you can find them and don't forget. If you need a ride, let me know and I'll arrange it."

  A few seconds passed in silence, long enough for Lisa to feel uncomfortable.

  "Okay, I'm going now. It's been a long week." She turned to leave, but Trace caught her hand.

  "What's wrong?" he asked again.

  "Nothing's wrong. Why do you think something is wrong? Have a nice chat with Michelle?" The words came out nothing like she'd intended. She sounded bitchy and cold. His eyes widened at her tone.

  "So that's it. You're jealous." He shifted his hat again and she could see the grin on his face.

  "I'm not jealous. I was asking a question. You're free to see whomever you like."

  Trace laughed at her comment. "I asked you out, if you remember, and you turned me down. So I guess I can't see whomever I like."

  Lisa didn't know if he expected a response to that, and she didn't have one anyway, so she stayed quiet.

  "To answer your question," Trace continued, "yes, we did have a nice chat. It's been a long time since we've seen each other and we were catching up."

  Before she could say anything else, Mary, the production assistant came back.

  "Mr. Harper, we don't have time for a wardrobe fit right now. You're needed on stage to do run-throughs, then you can go to wardrobe."

  "Okay, I'll be right there." He turned back to Lisa. "Got to go."

  "I know." She paused, not wanting to end the conversation on a personal subject. Back to business. That's what this is, after all. "Keep the papers and make sure you get to the interviews. Let me know if you need anything." She turned to leave once more.

  "Lisa, are you coming to the taping tomorrow?"

&
nbsp; She turned back to face him. "I hadn't planned to come. Why?"

  Trace took a step closer. Her breath caught in her chest as heat radiated from his body. He bent his head to her ear, just like he'd done at Six Guns the night they'd officially met.

  "Because I want you to come."

  His words evoked a vision of the two of them in her bed, sheets tangled under their bodies, those words whispered in her ear at a crucial moment. His breath wafted over her ear like a warm summer breeze. It would be so easy to turn her head just a little, just a tiny bit, and meet his mouth with hers. She remembered his soft lips on her mouth, his hands on her hips. Her legs grew soft and she didn't know if she would be able to walk away this time. Her mouth opened and she fully expected to hear a "no" come from her lips.

  Instead, she heard herself say, "I'll be here."

  Trace stepped back, nodded in agreement, and with a tip of his hat turned to follow the production assistant backstage.

  ###

  Lisa was sitting in Tanya's dining room table, trying to enjoy their usual Saturday morning brunch, but she couldn't concentrate on anything her friend was saying. She put her coffee cup on the table and interrupted her friend's rambling about her date with Doug, the man she'd met the previous week.

  "Tanya, I have a confession."

  Tanya stopped rambling. "You have feelings for Trace Harper."

  Surprised, Lisa looked at her friend. "How did you know?"

  Tanya laughed. "Sweetie, who doesn't know? Number one, you talk about him all the time."

  "He's my client."

  "Two," Tanya continued, "you create excuses to go see him at the studio."

  "Again, he's my client. And I had schedules and promotions to discuss."

  "Three, you get this dreamy look whenever you talk about him. So what's he like?" Tanya cut into her plate of pancakes, took a bite, and waited expectantly for Lisa to spill.