Don't Let the Music Die (The Storyhill Musicians Book 2)

by Annmarie Boyle

  “Not my decision,” she deadpanned.

  “Great,” he mumbled.

  She tossed a few papers into the recycling bin, and he could swear she was smirking, but when she turned back to him, any hint of humor had disappeared. “Why don’t you take a break. Stretch. Get some coffee. We have about five minutes of commercials, and then we’ll play music until the bottom of the hour.”

  He placed a hand on his heart. “Look at you, looking out for my welfare.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Hardly. I’m not about to let you kick my house down in one day.”

  Matt stood and rubbed his eyes. “Was it that bad?”

  She shrugged. “It could have been better.”

  He nodded and glanced away. “There was a time when you were the one person who believed in me, no matter what.”

  A sadness flickered in her eyes, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “Mind getting me one, too?” She lifted her cup, ignoring his comment.

  “Sure,” he said, grabbing her mug and turning toward the door.

  “Nice save on the microphone thing,” she said, barely audible.

  Not high praise, but he felt like she’d thrown him a lifeline.

  “Great show,” Celeste said, entering the studio when the on-air sign went dark for the last time.

  “But?” Matt said. Certainly, the station manager had something to say about his less than stellar debut.

  “But nothing,” Celeste said.

  “Really?” Amy-Lynn said, her eyes rising from the stack of papers in front of her.

  Huh. He wasn’t the only who was nervous about Celeste’s reaction. Good to know.

  “Yes,” the station manager said. “Sure, you had a few bumps at the beginning. That’s to be expected. But you covered well—even made the snafus funny.”

  Matt exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. If Celeste was happy, he was happy. Okay, it would be nice if Amy-Lynn was also happy.

  “I’ll collect my things and get out of the way,” he said, rising from his chair.

  Celeste put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the chair. “Do you have commitments this afternoon, Matt?”

  Just a recovery nap. And likely a shitstorm of texts from the guys offering remedial microphone training. But he figured those were not what Celeste meant by ‘commitments.’

  “I have a conference call at three. I’m flexible until then.” Maybe she was also going to suggest microphone training?

  “Great,” the station manager said. “I’d like you to stay around and record some promos with Avery.”

  Amy-Lynn’s eyebrows slid to the center and crinkled up. “This week’s promos are already in the can.”

  “That was before Matt joined the show. I want some new ones with the two of you together.”

  He could almost hear Amy-Lynn’s teeth grind. “Is that really necessary? He’s only here for thirteen more shows.”

  “But who’s counting?” he muttered under his breath.

  She shot him a look that was already becoming all too familiar and drummed her fingers on the desktop before lifting them to rub the spot under her collarbone.

  How many people knew that was her tell?

  “You’re sure you’d rather have me re-record promos than contact stations about picking up the show?”

  “Three to five promos should do it,” Celeste said, her voice carrying as she exited the studio. “Shouldn’t take you more than 60-90 minutes. Plenty of time to get them in the can and still reach out to a few stations.”

  It was clear Amy-Lynn was stressed. It had been a long morning. He wasn’t giving up his spot on the show, but he could give her some space and time.

  “How about I get us some food? I noticed a sandwich place right across the street.”

  She nodded, and her shoulders dropped in relief. “That sounds good. I’ll make a few copy changes to the promo scripts and meet you in Studio B in twenty minutes.”

  “Turkey club, no tomato, extra mayo?”

  Her eyes flew to his. “Is there anything you don’t remember?”

  “Only how to turn a mic on and off,” he said with a laugh. If she kept looking at him like that, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions. “Is that a yes on the sandwich?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  He nodded and turned toward the door. “See you in a few.”

  “Matt,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  He tipped his ball cap toward her. “You’re welcome, Avery.”

  Chapter Seven

  Matt gingerly laid the striped package on the small desk in the corner of Studio B, the dressing from Amy-Lynn’s sandwich already oozing through the now translucent corner of the bag.

  He ran his hand over the console, half the size of the one in Ajay’s studio, marveling at the fact that he was here. He’d wanted an opportunity like this for as long as he could remember. A part of him thought it would never happen, while other parts wouldn’t let the dream die.

  Despite his doubts, he knew with absolute certainty that not a single dream-career scenario included Amy-Lynn McWilliams. “Or Avery Lind.” He let the name roll over his tongue, testing it.

  In some ways, it fit her perfectly. She’d jettisoned the reticent girl that moved to Marla just weeks after her father’s death. Avery Lind was strong and driven, capable and incredible at her job.

  But Amy-Lynn still existed, too. The lines fanning from her eyes, too early to be wrinkles, revealed the burden she shouldered. Maybe everyone didn’t see it. But even nine years later, he was still tuned to the frequency of her emotions—sensing her moods and understanding the way her body moved like no time had passed.

  She was tired. And as much as he didn’t want to let her get close again, he wondered how he might make things easier for her. Like he used to.

  “You ready to move into the producer position already?”

  Matt turned to find Celeste standing in the door.

  He laughed softly. “Hardly. I think I have to master the mic’s on-off switch first.”

  Celeste cocked her head and studied him. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. If you ever give up the singing gig, you’d make a great host. And I don’t hand out compliments lightly.”

  Matt felt a warmth climb his neck. A compliment that had nothing to do with the way he looked. “Thank you. Avery makes everyone around her look better. She’s very good at what she does.”

  Celeste tucked the corners of her perfect bob behind her ears. “She is. One of the best. Which is saying a lot because a woman in this business has to work twice as hard as a man to be taken seriously.”

  “And then I come in, on the first day of syndication, and throw her a curve ball.” Amy-Lynn had said as much, but for the first time it really sunk in. How would he have reacted if Amy-Lynn had waltzed backstage minutes before the concert at the Ryman? Like a memory made human. Would he have made it on stage? She did. Making her debut show even more impressive.

  Celeste wiped a finger over the top of the console, flipping her hand over and blowing off the dust. The puff of air brought Matt back to the present.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much. She’s given her life to this job. She’s dedicated—and resilient. It’s going to take more than an unexpected guest to throw her off balance.”

  He nodded. “I hope so.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Avery said, appearing behind Celeste and shimmying around her.

  “I was telling Matt he’d make a great radio host.”

  Avery whipped around and stared at her boss. “Are you offering him a job?”

  Celeste held her hands up in surrender. “Nothing more than we’ve already discussed. I only mentioned that if he was ever looking for a second job, he should give hosting a shot. Maybe multi-media like Ryan Seacrest.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. “He does have a face for TV.”

  His jaw ticked. Enough with the face for TV thing. Apparently, h
er memory wasn’t as good as his—or she’d stop saying things like that. Or maybe she remembered and was trying to get under his skin?

  Two could play that game. “So far, I’m really enjoying this radio thing.”

  “Again, you’ve been here two days. Maybe try it for a few more days before you make any pronouncements.” Avery dropped a stack of paper on the console and held his gaze.

  Celeste cleared her throat. “Right. I have a meeting and you have promos to record. See you tomorrow, Matt?”

  He pulled his eyes from Amy-Lynn and nodded at his temporary boss. “Bright and early.” He laughed. “Or at least early, not sure I can promise bright yet.”

  Celeste laughed and waved, exiting the studio.

  “You just can’t help it, can you?” Avery said.

  “Help what?”

  Avery sighed. Just a little a breath, but he noticed. “Flashing that pretty smile and using your country charm to your advantage.”

  He was not getting into this. Especially not with her. He searched for a change of subject. “I got sandwiches,” he said, pointing at the table in the corner of the room. “I didn’t know if they were allowed in here or not.”

  “I’d say, don’t tell the station manager, but you’ve got that whole get-out-of-jail-free smile, born under a lucky star thing going for you,” she said. “So, let’s throw caution to the wind.” She held out her hand, motioning for her sandwich.

  He pressed his lips together. Hard. If history held, she only made comments like those when she was anxious and uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to fire off a retort, he knew that would only escalate the situation. And, he reminded himself, you’re the reason she’s stressed in the first place. He placed the sandwich in her hand without a word.

  Amy-Lynn unwrapped her hoagie and inhaled deeply. “I haven’t allowed myself one of these for so long.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “No time.”

  His eyes narrowed. “They’re right across the street.”

  “After the show wraps, I work straight through lunch so that I can get home as soon as possible.”

  “Is that why you look so tired?”

  Avery raised her eyebrows and snorted.

  Matt would not be dissuaded. “Why do you look so tired, Mac?”

  She opened her mouth and let it drop shut. “We should get these promos done.”

  He rolled his chair over next to her. “Is something going on at home? You can tell me.”

  She scooted away from him. “Were you always this much of a bulldog?”

  He raised his eyebrows, waiting, saying nothing.

  She searched his face. “Fine. As I mentioned earlier, Momma lives with me. She really doesn’t need to yet, but I felt it would be good to get her settled now. And Jessica and her son live with me, too.”

  His eyes widened. “Jess has a kid?”

  “Yep,” she said, popping the P.

  “So, they all rely on you?”

  “Yes,” she said, her chin rising.

  “That’s kind of you. I guess,” he said around a bite of his sandwich.

  She creased the edge of the waxed butcher paper laying underneath her hoagie. And folded it again. And one more time, until it met the side of her sandwich. “I’m not sure kindness has anything to do with it. They’re my responsibility.”

  He stopped chewing and turned to her. “Your responsibility? How do you figure?”

  “Since Daddy died, I’ve been the second provider in the household. You know that. Or you used to.”

  His eyebrow arched. “But Jessica is an adult now.”

  A mirthless laugh leaked out of Amy-Lynn. “Well, she looks like an adult, but doesn’t always act like one.”

  “Could that be because she knows you’ll catch her every time she falls?”

  Amy-Lynn sucked in a breath deep enough to flatten her nostrils. “Excuse me? You think you can waltz in here after not being around for nearly a decade and know what’s best for my family?”

  He moved toward her and reached for her before pulling back. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I overstepped. But you also don’t get to act like I left your life voluntarily. That was all you.”

  She sighed and shuffled the papers next to the console. “Matt, I really need to get to these promos. I have a lot of other things to get done today.”

  He nodded. Why was he even interested? She’d left him and made her feelings clear. He wasn’t good enough for her. He shouldn’t need to know anything else.

  Driving home from the station, Avery ran through her never-ending to-do list, but mostly she kept wondering why she’d told Matt all that? The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorry for her, or worse, ask more questions.

  She needed to shut this down before he probed further.

  If only he weren’t so distracting.

  When, in that tiny studio, he’d rubbed his hand over his day-old stubble, the rasp of fingers against hair did funny things to her insides. It had reminded her of . . . She shook her head. Never mind what it reminded her of. Those were thoughts that didn’t belong in the workplace. Ever. Even when you were forced to sit across from a Thor lookalike—and not the comic book Thor. The full-on, leather-pant-wearing, hammer-wielding Chris Hemsworth Thor. She was pretty sure that having to share a hundred square foot room with Matt-Thor-Chris was the very definition of an inhospitable workplace. She should file a complaint.

  She sighed. She could see it now. Celeste rolling her eyes so hard they’d fall out.

  But Matt’s proximity wasn’t the only thing bothering her. To her irritation, his question about Jess kept rattling around in her head.

  She needed to sit down and have an adult conversation with her baby sister. Avery needed to help Momma and get this show on as many stations as possible, and to make that happen, her sister was going to have to pitch in.

  She snaked through the alley and pulled into the driveway behind her house. She’d bought this house because it was big enough to house her family. As a kid, Daddy was regularly deployed, and Momma worked late hours. She wanted to give everyone a safe, stable place to land.

  She laid her head down on the steering wheel. Who was she kidding? She wanted to give herself a safe, stable place to land.

  She rubbed her clavicle, knowing this was a conversation she had to have while simultaneously wanting to put the car in reverse and ignore the entire thing.

  She never backed away from a fight at work. Why was it so hard with family?

  She sighed and stepped from the car, grabbing the bag of groceries she’d picked up on her drive home. She walked toward the house, more certain with every step. It was time. No more ignoring the issue. No more enabling. She’d talk to Jess tonight.

  Avery stepped into the entryway and startled. Jess was standing in the mudroom, steps away from the door, her hands on her hips.

  Avery glanced from her sister to the pegs on the wall. Jess’s handbag and Wyatt’s schoolbag were hanging neatly in their spots. “Did you just get home?”

  Jess shook her head. “No. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Waiting to pounce on me? You couldn’t wait in the kitchen or the living room?”

  Jess took the bag of groceries from her hands, and Avery followed her into the kitchen. Jess pulled the items from the bag and began putting them away.

  “Okay, now you’re freaking me out. You’re lurking and putting away groceries. Clearly you want something.” Avery scanned the house for sound. “Or something happened to Momma.” Avery scuttled past Jess into the living room. Momma’s chair was empty. “Where’s Momma? Did something happen?”

  “No. Chill. She took Wyatt to the park so you and I can talk.”

  “Let me make sure I heard you right. You want to talk to me?”

  “Yes.” Jess pointed to the table in the kitchen. “Sit.”

  Avery looked at the table. A piece of paper laid in front of the chair she most often inhabited. She shot her sister a look, sli
ding into the chair and reading the title, “Jessica’s Plan.”

  “You typed out a plan?” Avery said, her eyebrows shimmying up her forehead. “Now I know there’s been an alien invasion.”

  “Ha, ha,” her sister said, sliding into the banquet seating behind the worn pine table. “I know I’ve been leaning on you a little.”

  A little? ‘A little’ didn’t begin to cover it. But Avery knew it was as much her fault as Jess’s. She invited Jess and Wyatt to live here. And hadn’t said a word about their extended stay until yesterday. Passive-aggressive, much? She’d swallowed her irritation, letting it fester inside, instead of discussing it with her sister. “Go on,” Avery said slowly, wondering where Jess was taking this conversation.

  “I want you to know that I heard what you said. I know I need to take care of myself and Wyatt. It’s just so scary.”

  Now that was something Avery knew something about. Fear of her entire life crumbling was never far from her mind. But she’d decided the day Daddy died she would be strong for her family—at all costs.

  “What’s scary?” she asked, trying to soften her voice.

  “Being a mom. Knowing it’s just me and him.”

  Avery melted a little, an old memory moving inside her. “It’s never just you and him. Momma and I will always be here.”

  “Yes,” Jess said, nodding. “But as back-up.”

  Avery’s eyes went wide. She opened her mouth to ask Jess to clarify, but before she could speak, Jess pointed at the paper in front of Avery.

  “It’s time for me to think about what life looks like for me and Wyatt in the future. The very near future. That’s where the plan comes in.”

  Avery held up the paper and read the numbered items. One, get a job I love. Two, pay rent. Three, finish college. She’d had a similar list once herself. Go to Nashville. Get a job in radio. Pay off student debt. Get over Matt Taylor.

  Two days ago, she would have said she’d accomplished everything on that list. Today she knew better.

  “What do you think?” her sister said, pulling her back to the present.

  How to answer that? She sucked a breath in. She’d decided in the car that things needed to look different around here. No backpedaling now. “It’s great, but it’s a little thin. How do you expect to do all of this? You’ve promised this before and that was before Wyatt. These are just general bullets. How do you plan on achieving all of this?”