by Caisey Quinn
Propping his elbows on the table, Steven regarded her warily. “What if I have? You don’t care?”
Kylie tossed her hands up, palms facing him. “Whoa. This isn’t about me. This is about you and the band and whether or not you’re throwing your career away over a girl.”
Isn’t it?
Kylie’s head swam as the overwhelming possibility that this early morning meeting was about much more than breakfast overtook her. “Steven…” She bit her lip as she tried to find the words to say what she wanted to.
“Relax, Ryans. I know. Jealousy isn’t you’re thing. Got it. But I wonder, if it was a certain—”
“Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.” She could feel it in the air when people were about to mention Trace. Everything inside of her tensed up.
“All right. My bad. So yeah, in all honesty, whatever’s going on with me and Chris, Mia Montgomery isn’t helping matters any.”
Kylie nodded. Surprisingly, the admission didn’t sting. Not even a little. She wondered briefly if something was wrong with her. “Well, have you talked to Chris about it?”
The waitress reappeared with their food, and Steven waited to answer until she’d gone.
“Yeah, and it hasn’t gone over well. Our last conversation ended with us deciding not to tour at all until next year. If even then.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks. Seriously. You want me to talk to Mia?” Not that she knew what she’d say, but she could at least let her friend know that her relationship with Chris was causing tension.
“Um, no. What would you say, Ryans? Hey, Mia, at some point between Steven giving me countless orgasms, he mentioned that you and Chris dry humping during band rehearsal was distracting and he’d like for you to quit. Yeah, that should go over well.”
Kylie felt her face redden at least ten shades. “You did not just say orgasms and dry humping over breakfast.”
“I did. And so did you.” Steven snatched a piece of bacon off her plate and crammed it in his mouth. She didn’t care. It was chewy and gross instead of crispy like she liked.
“Ugh. How did we get so…”
“Fucked up? Easy. We got rejected by the people we cared about and then we used each other for a distraction of a physical nature.”
Kylie shook her head. “You know, sometimes I’m not actually looking for a literal answer.” In spite of herself, she grinned when he did.
He shrugged. “Then don’t ask me questions.”
“You’re such a guy.”
Steven smirked. “Yeah, I am. Glad you noticed. But you, on the other hand, have barely touched your food. Some dude you are.”
“I can’t eat with the waitress glaring at us and you talking about your career ending like it’s no big deal and tossing around the o-word all while trying to figure out how to get Mia to stop dry humping your lead singer.” She rubbed her temples and tried to think.
“Hey,” Steven said softly, reaching over the table to pull her hands from her head. “This isn’t your problem, Ryans. I didn’t ask you here to stress you out.”
“Why did you ask me here?” She swallowed hard. If this was the part where he said he wanted more, wanted a relationship or something, she was screwed. She wasn’t interested in that—not with Steven or anyone. And turning a guy down when his band was breaking up seemed pretty bitchy, even for her.
She watched as he sucked in a breath. “I just wanted to know if you knew of anyone who might need a lead guitarist. If I don’t find something soon, it’s back to Georgia I go. There’s an open spot on my dad’s construction crew with my name on it.” His pained expression made her heart ache. Though she was breathing easily since it hadn’t been a profession of love he’d blurted out.
“Steven, surely—”
“Look, don’t do the pity party thing. Just keep an ear out, okay? If anything opens up, let me know.”
She nodded, mentally scanning her brain for anything she might have heard about bands needing guitar players. She stood as he tossed some bills on the table. The fact that the waitress hadn’t even had a chance to leave a check with her number on it made her want to snicker.
Once they were outside, she was hit with another fleeting wave of panic. Would he walk her home? Should she invite him in? Would anything happen between them if she did? Did she want anything to happen?
“Um…”
“I’ve got a few leads to follow up on about gigs this weekend. But I’ll call you. Or call me if you hear of anything.”
“Okay. Thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome. Later, Ryans.” With a quick kiss on the forehead and a one-arm hug, Steven headed off in the other direction.
We got rejected by the people we cared about and then we used each other for a distraction of a physical nature.
He’d pretty much summed it up perfectly. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The reason she didn’t feel jealous over the waitress or Mia—or anything really—was because her heart wasn’t in it. At least this time she knew Steven’s heart wasn’t in it either.
Last time, she’d been stupid enough to think the other person’s actually had been.
“THIS IS the offer. It’s not something they’re willing to negotiate. It’s, ‘Here’s what we have. Take it or walk.’” Maude Lowenstein lifted a bony shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s better than nothing as far as I’m concerned.”
“She won’t go for it. Not in a million years. All she wanted at the benefit was for me to stay the hell away from her.” Trace shook his head and fought the urge to wince at the memory.
His agent and his manager sat across from him in the conference room at Capital Letter Records. He’d thought he’d been called in to sign his dissolution papers. But Noel Davies had sprung one last option on him, one last proposition of the fuck-you-flavored variety.
“She’s not in a position to be turning down the label’s offers either. She already turned down a world tour with Bryce Parker.” His agent lowered her glasses. “Care to know why?”
He fought the urge to grin and cleared his throat. “No. And you probably shouldn’t be discussing her with me. She’s just as much your client as I am.”
“Yes, she is. And if two of my clients are about to be touring together, I can discuss it with whomever I so chose.” The woman paused as if waiting for him to challenge her. When he didn’t, she continued. “So here’s why I think she’ll be more agreeable than you suspect. In the meeting when they offered her a spot on Parker’s tour, she said, and I quote, ‘I’m not going on tour with some cheap knock-off Trace Corbin wannabe,’ end quote.”
“She said that?”
“Yes, she did. So again, she’s not really in a position to turn down a tour with the real thing, now is she?”
“I don’t think she cares about what kind of position she’s in,” Pauly chimed in. “She’ll probably tell the label to kiss her chart-topping ass if they even suggest she and Trace share a bus for the next few months.”
Trace shook his head. Discussing Kylie and positions was doing things to him. Causing him to think things one should not be thinking during business meetings. “Yeah, I have to agree with Pauly. She’s not going to go for this. The label can threaten me all they want because I’m on my last leg, but she probably has offers lined up.”
Pauly nodded, and even Maude was quiet for a moment.
“What if we let her think it was her idea?”
“What?” both men asked, almost in unison.
“Just think about it. You and she have a history, Trace. Talk to her. Tell her you need a big act for your next tour or the label’s cutting you loose. Say whatever you have to.”
He thought it over for a split-second. “I won’t do that to her. She doesn’t owe me anything. She’d be the first to tell you so.”
“So make her want to tour with you. Take her to dinner. Take her to bed. Whatever.” The woman leaned back in her seat as if the matter was settled.
“You’re s
uch a romantic, Maude. I’m not going to screw Kylie Ryans into touring with me. And the fact that you’re even suggesting it makes me think the only thing I should be telling her is that she needs a new agent.”
“Trace—” Pauly began, but Maude cut him off.
“Look, from where you sit, this probably all looks really complicated and messy. But from where I sit, it’s pretty damn cut and dry. Here’s the thing about this business. The most talented artist isn’t always the one who makes it big. You know who is? The one the media pays the most attention to, the one who works the hardest to stay out front, the one who does whatever it takes—regardless of things like fairness and feelings and all that other pretentious preschool bullshit—to make their career what they want it to be. So you want more platinum-selling albums? You convince Kylie Ryans to do this The Other Side of Me Tour. Or you can walk away from this and let these twelve-year-olds take over country music and put your ass out to pasture.”
She stood to leave and Trace closed his eyes. He’d nearly been plowed down on his way into the meeting by an entourage surrounding some kid whose eyes had been glued to his cellphone.
“That’s Collin Hanes,” Pauly had informed him. “He’s sixteen and his album is number one on iTunes.”
The little shit had looked like he was there for Take Your Kid to Work Day.
Trace opened his eyes and let out a loud breath. “I won’t play games or trick her into this. But I’ll try. I’ll do what I can to try and convince her.”
“Good,” Maude said as she placed a hand on the door. “So will I.”
Trace groaned and leaned back in his chair. Damn. This was not good. This was the opposite of good.
Pauly cleared his throat as he stood. “As your manager, I’d say Kylie Ryans might be the best thing for your career at this point. As your friend, one who actually gives a damn about you and your sobriety, I’d say she’s probably the worst person you could involve yourself with—personally or professionally.”
“Thanks, Pauly. That’s real helpful.”
His manager squeezed his shoulder lightly as he passed. “I know. But I also happen to know she’s recording at Bluebird Studios tonight if you wanted to swing by there. Maybe a heads-up from you would come across better than Maude or the label blindsiding her.”
Maybe. Or maybe she’d tell him to go straight to hell where he belonged.
BLUEBIRD STUDIOS was empty save for a few cars in the parking lot. Trace let himself in the entrance for artists and nodded at Molly at the front desk.
“Hey, sunshine. Would you happen to know which studio Kylie Ryans is in this evening?”
“Hm. Well, Mr. Corbin, that depends. Is she expecting you?”
He gave the blonde a wink and a grin. “I don’t know if anyone could ever be expecting me, darlin’. I’m kind of hard to handle.”
The receptionist eyed him appreciatively. And then her face transformed into a mask of disappointment. “So the rumors are true then? About you and her?”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, sweetheart. Is she in D? I know she prefers D.” He was guessing, but he preferred it. He figured she probably did, too.
“Yeah, she’s in D. Go on back. But you snuck in if anyone asks. And you owe me,” she called out after him.
He made a mental note to send Molly some flowers or chocolates. She was a sweet girl. Pretty, too. Just not the one he wanted.
Once he’d reached Studio D, he stepped into the listening booth and nodded at Kylie’s manager, a guy with glasses he’d seen around a few times. Before he had time to introduce himself properly, her voice filled the room.
I’ll set your night on fire. I’m a live wire. I’m a live wire.
Boy, was that the truth.
He watched as she belted out the rest of her song, a fast one about how she was untamable. Watching her while being surrounded by her sultry voice made it hard to swallow. Or think. Or breathe. So he glanced down at his phone and pretended to give a shit about something on it until the music stopped.
“Mr. Corbin?” Kylie’s manager came over and shook his hand. “Chaz Michealson. Kylie’s manager. What can I do for you?”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Michaelson. Kylie’s said nothing but good things about you.” The man cleared his throat and Trace grinned. “Don’t feel bad if you can’t say the same thing to me. I deserve it, whatever she’s said.”
“She has a bit of a temper,” her manager said, glancing back to where she stood glaring at them on the other side of the glass.
“That she does.” Trace raised his hand in a small wave that she didn’t return. The force of her stare should’ve shattered the glass between them. “Listen, I was wondering if I could speak with her privately for a few minutes. No doubt she’ll be filling you in on every aspect of the conversation once we’re done. Or you can stick around and hear it through the door when she yells at me.”
“Think I’ll sit this one out, if it’s all the same to you.” The manager opened the door as Kylie came through.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Trace greeted her. His heart began beating in overtime at the sight of her.
Her blue eyes gleamed in the lights of the studio. He didn’t know if her face was flushed from singing her heart out or from seeing him. Either way, she was beautiful as always.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s nice to see you, too. I was in the neighborhood.” Trace leaned against the side wall as Chaz and the other men in the room let themselves out quietly.
He watched as Kylie chugged half a bottle of water. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m all done for today, so if you need the studio, knock yourself out.”
“Actually I need you. I mean I need to talk to you.” Jesus. Sometimes he wondered if his life would be easier if he’d just cut out his own tongue years ago.
Kylie raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Talk.”
“Here? You don’t want to go get some dinner or something?”
She snorted. “No, thanks. Steven took me out for a late breakfast and I’m not hungry.”
Shit. That did not feel good to hear. It felt as if she’d socked him as hard as she could right in the chest. He lowered himself onto the couch and looked up at her. The lights surrounded her, making her look like a vision he was having. His hands twitched, aching to reach out and touch her. It was an urge more intense than the need to drink had ever been. And she was even more off-limits.
“Thanks for performing at the benefit. I appreciated that.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she seemed to shake off her reaction before she spoke. “You’re welcome. Is that what you came to the ‘neighborhood’ to tell me?”
“No. I came because…” Because I love you. I miss you. I need you and I can’t stand having to be on the same planet as you if I can’t have you. The words stuck in his throat. What he actually said was, “Because the label has some ideas for us. They’re pushing hard and I wanted you to hear it from me, wanted you to know it wasn’t my idea.”
Her brows dipped downward and she took another drink before responding. “What wasn’t your idea? The tour?”
“So you know then?”
She wiped a drop of water from her perfect mouth and then glared at him. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the same girl I was...before. I’m not all wide-eyed and excited about the opportunity to tour with Trace Corbin.”
The way she said his name, with false enthusiasm, made his stomach churn.
“All right. Well, I didn’t figure you’d be too thrilled. Gotta say, I’m not sure why the hostility is directed at me though. I just told you it wasn’t my idea.”
Her glare intensified before she finally looked away. “I knew this was coming when they asked me to do the benefit. It was pretty obvious that you didn’t want me there.”
Trace opened his mouth to tell her that wasn’t exactly how it was, but she rushed on before he could.
“Chaz and I kind of talked it out. In a way, it makes sense. The media thinks there’s s
omething going on between us—or that there was—and you can’t turn the radio on without hearing that damn song. We’d probably sell out every venue.”
“There’s a but coming.” He could see it on her face, in her stance.
“You bet your ass there is. Just because it might be the right move for both of our careers doesn’t mean I want to take a tour down memory lane. I’d rather be bound and gagged and dragged naked through town than share a bus with you. Again.”
If it didn’t hurt so much to hear, he might’ve laughed. He barely resisted the urge to tell her that if she said yes, he’d be happy to get her naked and tie her up. But as hard as she was trying to stonewall him, he could see the hint of pain flashing in her beautiful eyes.
“Say no more. Message received. Well, that’s that then.” He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans and stood to leave, but there was one more thing he had to say. “For the record, I didn’t come here to talk you into it. I came here to tell you that if you did decide to go through with it, for professional purposes only of course, then I would do my best to make it as easy for you as possible. I know what you think, but I promise, I’m not the same person either. I wouldn’t stand you up or bail on shows and leave you to deal with the fallout. And I wouldn’t cross all those lines like I did before. You’re with someone else now. I can respect that.”
He could tell her breathing was becoming labored even though he was staring into her eyes. Her face contorted from what he figured was the effort to keep any of her actual emotions from showing. His hand reached out to stroke her smooth cheek, but he pulled back at the last second. He’d just said he wouldn’t cross lines and here he was, wanting to trample all over them.
“Kylie Lou, I—”
“Don’t. I heard what you said. I’ll consider it. I’ll talk to the label and let them know I’m thinking about it.”
“I guess that’s all I can ask for.” He shrugged. “You sounded great in there, by the way.” He nodded towards the sound booth. “And at the CMAs, and at the benefit. I know I haven’t had time to tell you, but I’m really pro—”