“Sounds deep,” Tom said, his fist resting under his chin.
I nodded. “It is.”
Tom introduced the song, and for the hundredth time, introduced me to any listeners just tuning in. I performed an acoustic version of Dark Clouds with Troy, then sat back down for more banter between commercial breaks and clusters of songs. Tom asked me, “Do you have someone special who inspires your own lyrics?”
My eyes flicked to the glass separating the studio from the outside hallway, immediately making contact with Collin. Though he couldn’t hear what we were talking about, he watched me with his legendary focus. In that moment, I was the only thing in his whole world that mattered.
“Can I answer that question with another song?”
“Of course!” Tom exclaimed. “Let’s listen to a few messages from our sponsors, and when we come back, we’ll have a second bonus song from up and coming Harper Music star, Ruby Hawkins.”
I swiveled in my chair and faced Troy. “Can I borrow your guitar?”
He drew his Gibson closer to his chest, like I was asking him to hand over his grandma’s heirloom wedding ring so I could wear it while I went and dug through a garbage heap. “Why?”
“So I can smash it,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So I can play it. Obviously.”
Troy didn’t budge. His jaw was set, and it looked like the whites of his knuckles were showing as he clenched the guitar neck. In that moment, all of his bronzed, Mediterranean, chiseled attractiveness didn’t mean a thing. I reached out and yanked the guitar from his hands.
“Mr. Drake is going to hear about this,” Troy snapped.
A hot flash of anger burned across my skin. “Go ahead and tattle. I think he already knows I can play the guitar.”
Unnerved by Troy and his bizarre threat, I looked to Collin for reassurance. Both he and Jill were watching with intense interest. I supposed the tiff between Troy and I had been rather dramatic if Jill was interested in watching us at all. I apologized to Tom as Troy stood and sighed, muttering something under his breath. I ignored him and Tom, who seemed to be terribly interested in our drama as well and strummed my fingers over the strings.
“Your guitar is flat,” I sneered at Troy and tuned it. Troy huffed, his arms folded across his chest and his long legs stretched in front of him as he sat on the edge of Tom’s desk.
“Welcome back, folks. Ruby Hawkins has promised us a very special performance. So Ruby, tell us about it. Who is the inspiration behind this song?”
“Actually, he’s right out there,” I told Tom, pointing out the window to Collin, who waved happily as our attention turned to him. “Collin and I met, rather serendipitously. He subbed in my physics class, and after I forgot my sheet music for this song under my chair, he chased me down to return it. It was because of him that I was able to get over my writer’s block with the lyrics and get it written.”
“It’s a true love song,” Tom said cheerfully.
“Yes, a genuine love song. It’s about that budding love, when a woman is first noticed by a man and feels that instant attraction.” I was keenly aware of Troy’s and Collin’s eyes both on me. Though the song had been inspired by Collin, there was no denying that Troy had attached special meaning to the song by singing in harmony with me during my audition for Harper Music.
“Are you ready for it?” I asked.
Tom gestured to me even though his audience couldn’t see. “Please. Take it away.”
I strummed the guitar through the intro and began singing into the microphone. I closed my eyes and let myself feel the emotions of the music. I opened my eyes and my gaze locked with Troy, who still stood, stone-faced and unwilling to budge. I half expected him to join in on harmony again but he didn’t. I pushed on without him and delivered a powerful, raw rendition of my very own song.
“Thank you for sharing, Ruby,” Tom complimented me. “Can we assume that this will be one of the singles on your album?”
I’d managed to convince Mr. Drake into letting me include the song on my album as a bonus track, but other than that, it’d kind of been neglected. I decided then and there I’d push the issue further.
“It certainly will be.”
The interview ended, and I thanked Tom for the opportunity to come to his station and share my music with his listeners. I hoped the strangely tense moment with Troy hadn’t stood out as anything significant. It still had me baffled, but it wasn’t the time or place to analyze it.
“I love watching you perform,” Collin gushed as I exited the studio.
“You can’t even hear me through the glass,” I pointed out.
“That’s why I said watching instead of listening.” He slid his hand down around my waist. He nestled his face into my neck, just above my collarbone and breathed in deeply. Troy pushed past us and stormed down the hallway without looking back or uttering an apology. Collin didn’t make anything of it—he was forever giving people the benefit of the doubt if he even noticed anything was off at all. I peeked over my shoulder and noticed the slightest smile cross Jill’s fiery red lips. It could have been a completely innocent, friendly smirk…if I didn’t know better.
Chapter Twenty
Kiki caught up with me after a few promotional appearances of her own to start cross promoting each other for our summer concert series. Her presence took the edge off my loneliness when my heart ached so much from missing Collin. We spent days between appearances wandering whatever city Harper Music had sent us to in search of something that would pique our interest. Usually it was an art gallery or a museum if Kiki chose. I didn’t mind the quiet, slower pace of places where reticent observation was the whole point of visiting. Sometimes, the applause from a cheering audience could wrack my nerves until it felt like they were going to shatter.
“Collin is meeting us here, right?” Kiki asked as she stared at a piece of art that looked like it was made with melted crayons and bits of yarn in a massive art museum in Chicago.
I clapped my hands together and rubbed them excitedly, my palms warming from the friction. “I’m so excited! He’s flying in tomorrow evening before we shoot. There’s only a five-hour layover before we leave for Phenoix, though.”
“That’s not long,” Troy said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. Was he watching for my reaction to his slight dig at Collin’s ability to be there for me?
“True love doesn’t need to be together all the time to keep the spark alive,” Kiki rebutted on my behalf.
“Love needs some attention, otherwise what’s the point?” Troy pushed.
He was right, but I wasn’t about to blame Collin for his absence. We were both on the career paths of our dreams, and I wasn’t going to shame him for choosing that when I was doing the exact same thing. “I had George send the details to Jill and they made the arrangements. At this point, I’d take fifteen minutes on a subway ride. We haven’t been together for more than two consecutive days for months.”
“At least you’re still in love,” Kiki gushed. “This long distance stuff would have killed most couples’ relationships long ago.”
I knit my eyebrows together and said flatly, “I don’t like ‘at least’ statements. ‘At least I didn’t get mauled by a bear today’ or ‘at least my swollen ankle wasn’t diagnosed as elephantiasis.’
Kiki tipped her head back and howled with laughter, garnering a few scowls and shushes in our direction. If only they knew that was Kiki’s inside voice. For someone so small, she knew how to project.
When she finally composed herself, she asked, “I suppose Jill is coming with him?”
I scowled. “Is there any question? She is his right-hand woman. I’m not sure he could even feed himself without her anymore.”
“Or zip up his pants,” Troy quipped. I felt a flash of anger at him mentioning the notorious incident, but I saw the glint of boyish humor in his golden eyes. It was my turn to laugh.
“I can’t believe you brought that up!” I squealed.
“I
don’t think Collin’s ever going to live that down.”
“That’s what I love about him,” I admitted.
Troy looked at me like I had a monkey sitting on my head. “What? His stupid inability to care for himself?”
“No,” I stammered, a sweltering heat creeping up my neck.
Kiki looked at us with a raised eyebrow. “You feeling okay? I can’t say I’ve ever seen a guy get so upset about a girls’ boyfriend’s inability to zip up his own pants.”
Troy raked his hand through his flaxen hair and huffed, “It’s nothing. Never mind.” He loosed a breath out through clenched teeth and put on a glittering smile. “So, what’d ya say we go get lunch before we need to get ready? We’re in Chicago, and I think it’s law we eat pizza or a footlong chili dog.”
Kiki immediately and without question nixed the idea of eating an enormous, glorified hotdog, so we found a delectable hole-in-the-wall pizza joint that served the most delicious deep dish pizza I’d had the privilege of sinking my teeth into. Of course, I had to limit myself. I knew exactly how many drops of sweat I had to shed to be able to burn a pound worth of calories. I didn’t want to have to battle the treadmill over an extra piece of pizza. Then, we caught a cab over to the production studio, Kiki and Troy squishing me in the middle seat. I didn’t know who to lean toward, but I about nodded off, ready to open mouth snore, stuffed between two warm bodies.
Harper Music was strict on who they allowed to work on their stars so Wanda and Casey were already there waiting for us. Kiki told me it had to do with another one of their singers who ended up with a half-shaved head before a television appearance in L.A. She had thought the move was bold, but it created a social media backlash and several incredibly harsh memes that lasted months.
In an hour, we were primped and preened and sent to wardrobe, where Harrison handed over our always trendy, chic outfits. I tugged at the hem of my skirt, wishing there was a tad more fabric.
“How am I not supposed to flash the entire audience while sitting in the armchair? Why can’t I wear what you’re wearing?” I asked Harrison. He had on a pair of faded jeans that looked like they were custom made for his svelte figure and a vintage PacMan t-shirt.
“If you’re running to get groceries, I’d approve of you wearing my outfit,” Harrison said, pushing his large glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, “but for public appearances, people expect you to look legendary. You’ll have to keep your legs crossed and hope for the best, I guess.”
“Keep my legs crossed? That’s the best you can do for me?”
Harrison shrugged. “All I’m told is to make you look fabulous, not how to be fabulous. Ask Kiki. She always looks amazing.”
“Aw, thanks Harrison,” Kiki beamed from a few feet away where no less than half a dozen people had their hands prepping just about every inch of her body. They wrapped up quickly and swarmed me just as Harrison zipped up my outfit.
I looked down, and a small Asian woman with blunt cut black hair was spritzing my bare legs with some sort of clear liquid. I touched my thigh and rubbed my fingers together, sniffing it and immediately recognizing the scent. “Are you spraying me with baby oil?” The lady nodded, continuing to rub my skin with a terry cloth to spread it evenly “So, I’m wearing a dress that’s too short to keep from showing my undies, and I’m somehow supposed to keep my legs crossed, and now you’re greasing my legs with oil?”
Kiki strolled up in a rather impressive pair of thigh high boots and a glitzy romper. “It makes your legs look smooth and shiny.”
“They’re smooth alright.”
“Try crossing your legs at the ankles. You can use the heels of your shoes to keep your legs together so no one sees your granny panties.”
My jaw dropped. “I do not wear granny panties.”
“Who wears granny panties?” Troy asked, strolling up with his thumbs tucked in the belt buckles of his bootcut jeans.
My face lit furiously, and I muttered, “Never mind.”
“You ready, then?” Troy asked. “The producer said we could get a peek of the set. Oh, and here,” Troy said, thrusting a few cards into my hands. “These are some of the possible questions that Abilene, the hostess, would like to ask.”
I scanned the cards, but my mind was moving so fast and in a so many different directions that I had a hard time catching hold of any of them to make a coherent thought.
“How do I know what they’ll ask?” My throat started to tighten. I’d been interviewed, but only on the radio, where no one would see the bizarre faces I made while I was thinking of my answer. Tonight, Kiki was going to perform a song, I was lined up for an interview—not the main one but George had reminded me that any publicity was big publicity—then I’d perform at the end of the show.
“Take your pick,” Troy said, nodding to the stack of cards in my hands. “Abilene said she likes to keep things as natural as possible. She wants the conversation to flow.”
I grunted my acknowledgement and went to the stage for a sound check with Troy, stumbling a few times as I tried studying the cards while walking. When did I know I wanted to be a star? Who are my idols? What is my one crowning achievement? The questions sounded more appropriate for a Miss America pageant interview, and there was no doubt I didn’t have enough poise to compete there.
“Have you seen Collin?” I asked Kiki after we’d finished our sound checks on the secondary stage.
She shook her head, her now-magenta locks not budging from all the product Casey had used to sculpt her hair. “Nope. Is he supposed to be here by now?”
I checked the time. “They should have already landed. Maybe traffic is just keeping them.”
Another round of powdering from Wanda, and I peeked through the curtains to see audience members pouring in and finding their seats. Half an hour until the show started and still no sign of Collin. I’d been hoping for a few minutes alone with him to catch up and let him wish me good luck. A kiss or two worked particularly well to help ease away stress, making my tension headaches evaporate and my knees turn noodly.
When the audience was all seated, I glanced at the backstage security screen that showed the audience packed in their spots with two glaring holes front and center where Collin and his evil little assistant Jill were supposed to be. My heart turned to ice and sunk all the way down to my toes.
“Welcome to Chicago Tonight!” Abilene welcomed the crowd, who clapped and cheered riotously.
In a moment of panic, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Collin. My foot tapped impatiently as I waited for him to answer, part of me ready to chew him out, the rest of me desperate to hear his voice so he could tell me everything would be alright.
“Ruby?” A wave of relief crashed over me and I let out a heavy sigh.
“Where are you?” I hissed into the phone.
“Ms. Hawkins? You’re on in five,” said a middle-aged man with headphones over his ears and glasses resting on the end of his nose.
I batted him away and immediately internally cringed. Since when had I become such a diva? “I’m at the studio. Where are you?”
I stared at the audience scene, the two chairs still empty. Collin was definitely not in his seat, and I didn’t care one lick if Jill wasn’t with him. “Why aren’t you in the front row?”
Collin hesitated. “I am in the front row, Ruby.”
I checked the screen again. “No, you’re not.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. “I think I’d know if I’m in the front row or not.”
I shot back, “And I’m telling you, I’m staring at the security feed of the audience and you’re not there, sitting in the spot that was reserved for you.”
More silence. “I’m here, Ruby. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“You’re here in the Chicago Tonight studio, waiting for me to walk on stage for my interview in a couple of minutes?”
“Ms. Hawkins, we really need to have you ready. You’re headed on in three!” The middle-ag
ed man’s thinning hair looked frazzled. Perhaps he’d been ripping out chunks of it during his frustrating career working with high-maintenance celebrities.
“Chicago Tonight?” Collin asked.
“Yes, Chicago Tonight…why?”
“I’m in New York City at the New York Tonight show.”
Without warning, my insides felt like it was a raging hurricane of emotion. Deep disappointment and despair. Blinding rage at Jill. Welling panic that pushed up from my gut.
“Ms. Hawkins!” the man hissed, pointing to a large clock. “One minute until your introduction!”
I blinked rapidly to keep the tears that were on the verge of popping out of my eyes from falling and said in as even a tone as I could. “I’m sorry, Collin but you have it wrong. I’m in Chicago tonight, and won’t be back to New York until our concert tour starts. I have to go. I’m being interviewed now.”
I hung up without an “I love you,” the staple goodbye of every phone call I’d ever had with Collin. My heart felt like a cold lump of stone in my chest. I knew it was Jill’s doing, purposely messing up Collin’s scheduling to keep us apart, but I couldn’t help but blame Collin. He was the one who hadn’t gotten rid of her, after all. He was the one who didn’t believe that I—his girlfriend—could possibly be right about his secretary’s ulterior motives to get close to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome up and coming star, Ruby Hawkins!”
The middle-aged man looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown as he scurried about, pushing me toward the curtain. In a flash, he gave me the once over to make sure my hemline hadn’t curled and my microphone was working. Satisfied, he pointed me toward the opening in the curtain and firmly shoved me by the small of my back.
When a Star Falls (Stars Book 1) Page 17