by Caisey Quinn
“Don’t you dare talk to me about being a professional or a decent human being,” Mia practically growled at her. “You don’t know anything about me, do you? Except what you decided the night I showed up at your party.”
“Oh but you’re the expert on me, right? You know who I’m dating so you know exactly who I am and what I’m about. I have no idea what the hell your problem is. And honestly, I don’t even give a shit anymore. You want to be a raging bitch all the time? Knock yourself out. I have more important things to worry about.”
Mia smirked, her lips curling into a hateful smile. “Right. Like Skyping your boyfriend to piss and moan about every little thing that doesn’t go your way. Or maybe you’re just checking in to make sure he still is your boyfriend. Or that he’s still sober.”
Bitch, meet line. ‘Cause you just fucking crossed it. Kylie closed her eyes. Her breathing and heart rate were ramped up so high she probably could’ve mauled Mia Montgomery like a wild bear without breaking a sweat.
She opened her eyes, hoping she’d set the brunette across from her on fire with the blazing heat in them. When she finally spoke, her voice was dead calm. “You can say whatever you like about me. I’ve been called names you probably don’t even know the meaning of. And you can keep throwing your bitchy-ass attitude in my face every time I breathe too close to you if that’s what you need to do to be happy. I’ll smile. And I might even wink or blow you a kiss. I’m from Oklahoma, honey. I can bless your heart and hate your crazy ass all at the same time. But if you ever, and I mean ever, make another comment about Trace, his drinking or otherwise, then I promise, you won’t be able to whistle fucking Dixie when I’m through with you.”
She watched as Mia took a step back. Clearly, she’d gotten her point across. So she winked. “Anyways. Lovely chatting with you. As usual. See you at dinner.”
She’d been trying so hard not to think about what may or may not have happened with Mia and Trace before she came along. But it was becoming damn near impossible not to wonder.
SHE WAS showering when she remembered the text her manager had sent the night before. He’d scheduled a video chat meeting for her with a possible agent. Her late night talk with Trace and the early morning confrontation with Mia had scrambled her brains. She finished up quickly and threw herself together as best she could.
When she made it to the media room, the door was locked. Kylie never even closed it, much less locked it. She checked her phone. It was ten minutes after the time Chaz was supposed to send the video chat request. He was a stickler for punctuality.
“Um? Is there a reason this door’s locked?” she called, knocking softly.
“Go away,” a muffled voice called back.
Great. “Lily, open the door. I need to use the computer.” She took a deep breath. The constant hogging of the bathroom was one thing. But this was affecting her career. She texted Chaz to let him know she wasn’t able to get to the computer but was working on it. She knocked again, harder this time. “Seriously. I have a video chat meeting with my manager, like now. It’s important.”
“Use your phone. I’m on the computer right now.”
You’re always on the damned computer. “My phone has shitty service and a delay. Please, Lily. I promise I’ll try to be quick about it.”
“God!” Lily shouted as she slid the door open and glared through red-rimmed eyes. “Mia was right about you. You’re such a self-centered bitch!”
She didn’t even have time to respond before the girl stormed past her. So she screamed at her retreating figure. “I’m self-centered? Seriously? Look in the frickin’ mirror sometime! You and Mia can both kiss my self-centered ass!”
With that, she locked herself in the media room. But she didn’t call Chaz right away. Instead she sat in the booth and took a few calming breaths, composing herself the best she could. Her phone buzzed. She looked at the text from her manager.
We’ve been through this. If you’re not going to take your career seriously then I won’t waste my time. I rescheduled for tomorrow morning at 8am. Don’t be late.
She rubbed her hands over her face and fought the urge to cry. Or hit something. Or hit the two other girls on the bus until they cried. God. She needed to see Trace’s face so bad she could hardly stand it. Needed to see his smile, hear his laugh. The real one, the one that gave her chills and warmed her all at once. Now.
As soon as the window with his handsome face popped up, she smiled. She knew she was probably blushing at the memory of their last conversation. “Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he greeted her. “Sleep well?”
Just the sound of his deep warm drawl soothed away all of the swirling tension and turmoil inside of her. Kylie bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. “Not as well as I would have if you were here.”
She couldn’t see them all that clearly through the pixelated image on the computer screen, but she would’ve bet her Gibson Hummingbird that his eyes were turning that stormy shade of hazel she loved so much.
“Babe, if I was there, you probably wouldn’t have slept at all.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand as she did. “I’d be okay with that.”
“Kylie! Did you drink the last of the milk?” Mia’s voice interrupted her intimate moment.
Kylie leaned away from the screen and hollered back. “No! The self-centered bitch didn’t drink your precious milk. Must’ve been Lily.”
She smiled apologetically into the webcam. “Sorry about that. Things are kind of…” How were things?
“Everything okay?” Trace’s forehead creased. No need to bother him with her trivial girl problems.
She waved a hand to let him know it wasn’t a big deal. Even though Mia hating her and her wondering why was starting to feel like a very big deal. “Three girls crammed together on a bus is not the best idea ever, you know?”
“Sounds like a great idea to me.” Trace winked. She knew he was kidding but it stung a little. He was known for being a ladies’ man, and she was currently on tour with someone who may or may not have been one of his prior conquests.
She forced a smile. “Funny.”
Trace’s mischievous grin faded. “Okay, I’m not a total dumbass. What’s going on? You look…mad or worried or…something.”
She’d never been one to keep things bottled up. Just as she was opening her mouth to come out and ask him about Mia, Lily stuck her head into the doorway. “Hey, you almost done? My dad’s about to call back and my friend Jen is supposed to be Skyping me in like five minutes.”
Kylie wanted to tell Lily to catch a damn clue. Her dad rarely made any of their Skype dates or called her back. At least he hadn’t since they’d been on tour together. When he did it just provoked a meltdown anyways. Kylie had spent several nights locked out of the bathroom because Lily was shut up in there crying. She’d had to go without a shower more than once because of whatever Lily’s dad said or didn’t say during their chats. “Be done in a minute,” she grumbled.
“Kylie?”
She glanced back at the screen. Trace looked both concerned and irritated. “Yeah, sorry. Lily needs the computer again but—”
“Lily can wait a damn minute. I’m not getting off here until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
She glanced up. Thankfully Lily must’ve decided to let her say goodbye in private. “I need to ask you something. I don’t want to, and technically it’s none of my business.” She pulled in a lungful of air. “But did you and Mia…when you were on tour together, did you—”
“Seriously?” She watched as Trace raked both of his hands through his hair. “Are you going to ask me about every woman I’ve ever come into contact with? It may not seem like it, but believe it or not, I didn’t actually sleep with every single female I met before you.”
“Trace…that’s not what I was trying to say. It’s just, things between me and her are strained and she se
ems to hate me and I just wanted to know if you’d—”
“Kylie, I really need the computer. Please.” Lily was back and she had her whiny voice on.
“One minute,” she said, gritting her teeth and glaring at Lily with everything she had.
“I’ll tell you what, compile a list and I’ll circle the yeses. That work for you?” Even through the computer speaker, he sounded pissed.
“I’ll get right on that,” she snapped back at him. He’d asked what was wrong and she was trying to tell him and he was being a dick.
She reached up to slam the computer shut, the online equivalent of hanging the fuck up on him, but his expression was apologetic. “Wait. Kylie, please. My bad. I shouldn’t have gotten so shitty. It’s just, I’m under a lot of pressure right now and things with the tour are crazy.” He paused to scrub a hand over his face. “None of that is an excuse for being an asshole to you first thing in the morning. Or ever. Forgive me?”
She rolled her eyes. Only Trace Corbin could make a girl forgive him without ever actually apologizing. “Yeah, I get it. I shouldn’t be so—”
“Kylie!” Lily was literally stomping mad.
“Hey, Lily’s freaking out and—”
“Yeah, I hear. Look, this isn’t exactly the kind of conversation we need to have on here anyways but I’ll see you in a week in Nashville. Okay?”
She smiled and the tightness in her chest loosened slightly. One more week. It couldn’t come soon enough. “Okay. Call me later if you get a chance. I know you’re busy.”
“I will. Miss you, Kylie Lou.”
“Miss you, too.”
“Finally,” Lily blurted out, practically shoving Kylie out of her seat.
Kylie left the media room feeling more than a little agitated. For one, Lily was driving her nuts. And for two, Mia was lingering beside the doorway, smirking her ass off as Kylie passed. She wondered how much she’d overheard.
Just the sight of the girl reminded her of what was bothering her more than anything. Even more than Lily’s rudeness or fighting with Mia.
Trace hadn’t ever answered her question.
“I CAN’T help but notice the few stops on the tour that you were insistent on just happen to coincide with the tour of another artist we’re familiar with,” Pauly said as they loaded their luggage onto the bus.
Trace raised a brow. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
His manager laughed. “Sure you hadn’t.”
So maybe he hadn’t been all that discreet. Just because he and Kylie were keeping their relationship quiet didn’t mean he was going to spend twelve or more weeks without her. He made sure they’d meet up in Nashville both times she was there, plus Atlanta and Charlotte. Even Gretchen’s crazy ass being banned from the Atlanta Amphitheater hadn’t been able to screw up his plans. He’d made a few calls and begged favors from some guys he knew from back home. His ass was on the line now, and if Gretchen caused any problems in Georgia, he was going to strangle her with his bare damn hands.
Once they were finished, Trace wiped the sweat from his brow. He loved outdoor shows. This was what he’d always wanted and never could get the label to go for. Finally he’d been able to convince them to let him do it his way. And the bastards had strapped Gretchen to him like a time bomb. They knew she was unstable—hell, everyone knew. He had a feeling that was exactly what they were hoping for. For one or both of them to screw up and give them an excuse to drop them both, scraping them off the bottom of their shoes like dog shit.
Well, he was a new man. Okay, maybe not entirely. But he was working on it. He was meeting with Dr. Reynolds regularly and calling him when he felt the urge to drink. Well, when he got the urge to get shitfaced anyways. He also had him joining them on several tour stops so that he and Mike, his bass player who was also a recovering alcoholic, could have private AA meetings with him. His girlfriend and his sisters deserved better than the man he’d been for the past few years. He was going to make damn sure they got better.
Gretchen, on the other hand—he couldn’t speak for. As soon as Pauly stepped away to take a phone call, Trace heard it. The sound of someone retching her brains out. It was coming from inside the bus. He stepped on and headed towards the bathroom.
“Wow, Gretchen. You couldn’t make it one day?” He watched as she finished heaving into the toilet.
“Shut it, Corbin.” She moaned. She flushed the toilet and stood, wiping her mouth as she turned to face him. “You should’ve gone out with us after the launch party last night. You used to be so much more fun.” She tried to pout at him but her eyes were bloodshot and she reeked of alcohol and vomit.
“Yeah, looked like you were having tons of fun in there,” he said with a nod towards the bathroom. “Sorry I missed it.”
“Are you going to be this uptight for the entire tour? Because if you are, I’m going to need a lot more alcohol.”
“If by uptight you mean am I going to expect you to stay conscious on stage each night? Then yeah, I guess I am.” He shrugged, but inside he was feeling a little sick himself. They hadn’t even left Nashville and Gretchen was already messed up.
No way they were going to make it sixteen weeks on the road together. He was starting to get an idea of exactly how his girlfriend had felt a few months ago when she’d joined his screwed-up self on tour.
Watching as Gretchen sauntered off the bus, a feeling he was familiar with seeped into his skin. The same feeling he had when his mom or Claire Ann sported a black eye or an armful of fingerprint bruises courtesy of his piece of shit father. Because he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. There was nothing he hated more than feeling powerless. Helpless. He was disgusted with himself. Completely and utterly disgusted.
Memories he’d tried to drink away flooded his mind. The yelling. The crying. Rae—tiny and terrified—hiding under the kitchen table. The way he’d once grabbed Kylie by the arm the exact same way his father used to grab the women he supposedly “loved.”
Stop. It’s over. In the past. You’re nothing like him…except, you’re pretty much exactly like him. He tried to focus on his breathing but his chest ached and his head began to throb. His fists clenched and he darted into his room. In the dresser was still one last bottle of his favorite bourbon, Heaven Hill. Thank God.
AS SHE stepped off the bus to walk to the restaurant where the meeting with Brian Miller was, Kylie checked her phone. She’d been planning to send Trace a good luck message because his tour was kicking off that night in Alabama and they hadn’t exactly ended their last conversation on the best note. But the two texts she’d already received stopped her cold.
One was from Lulu. Saw the article online. Everything okay? The other was from Tonya, a friend she’d made waitressing back in Nashville. Hey hon. Heard you and Trace are having a hard time. Hang in there. Long distance relationships can be tough.
What the hell? She pulled up the web browser on her phone and did the one thing Trace had told her never to do. She Googled herself.
COUNTRY COUPLE UPDATE: IS THE HONEYMOON ALREADY OVER FOR CORBIN AND HIS LATEST FLING?
She clicked the link and read the few lines talking about her and Trace. Her vision blurred but she could read the main points. All they do is argue, says a source close to Ryans. She scrolled down the screen. There was more. For a second, everything was tinged in red. They’d had one minor disagreement since being apart. Over Mia, who’d been listening in on her conversation. She’d put up with the crazy chick being cold and distant and sometimes downright hateful. But this was bullshit. And Kylie intended to tell her so.
Below that was a link to another article. One that almost caused her to forget about the situation with Mia entirely. Almost.
TROUBLED ARTISTS TRACE CORBIN & GRETCHEN GIBSON CELEBRATE THEIR UPCOMING CO-HEADLINING TOUR WITH A NIGHT OUT ON THE TOWN.
She couldn’t even read the article because she was too distracted by the pictures. Her surroundings began to spin as bile rose in her throat. Her stomach cle
nched and her entire body tingled with a painful intensity similar to what she imagined being electrocuted would feel like.
Struggling to swallow, she clicked on the album featuring the grainy photos of Trace and Gretchen. The first showed him checking her out while they played pool. The next one was of the woman licking Trace’s neck as they took body shots off one another. With each click Kylie’s heart pounded harder. Her hands trembled as she swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the image of Trace holding Gretchen in his arms on the dance floor in the middle of a bar.
There has to be an explanation. There has to be. She just hoped it wasn’t something along the lines of he was out having a good time, getting wasted with Gretchen Gibson, like he’d be doing for the entirety of his tour. Even though that was exactly what it looked like.
HER MOOD had gone from bad to emotionally unstable on a nuclear level by the time they made it to dinner. She got that Mia wouldn’t be heading up her fan club anytime soon. She could deal with that. But leaking her personal information to the press was low. For anyone. And Kylie had enough issues without her adding to them.
Mia’s eyes fell on her a few times during dinner, and her expression said she didn’t miss the fact that Kylie wasn’t speaking to her. Not directly anyways. The tables had turned. After Kylie blatantly rolled her eyes at something Mia had said, the other girl threw her arms up. “Feel free to share with the group, Oklahoma. What the hell is your problem?” Mia leaned forward, eyed Kylie, and took a sip of her beer.
“Um, I think I covered everything,” Brian Miller said as he stood. “Text me if you have any questions.”
Once he was out of the way, Kylie met Mia’s glare. “I’m not the one with a problem. You’re the one running your mouth all over town about my personal business.”