Heart Shaped Spotlight

by Haley Travis

  I couldn’t believe that I’d dropped that so casually.

  “Shit,” he muttered. His jaw clenched. “Fuck it. That’s the last straw from that lazy bitch. Daniel might be furious that I’m firing his daughter, but his wife will bring him around.”

  His hand landed heavily on my shoulder as he met my eyes. “Trisha, I’m really sorry about this. Having her invade your privacy is a lousy thing to do to anyone, much less someone who is supposed to be on your team. She’ll be gone within half an hour. Do you want to go home for the day, just to shake it off?”

  “No, thanks. I’d like to be left alone to organize my office, if that’s okay.”

  “Whatever you need. And thanks again for a great job in Vancouver. Warren was thrilled.”

  As I shuffled through my day, I noticed that people were saying hello to me in the hallways properly, not just nodding. They were asking if I had a moment before barging into my office. It was as if they finally realized that I was worthy of respect.

  It was a very alien feeling, but I had to admit, it was amazing. It certainly helped take the edge off my mood.

  Until I thought of Nate, suddenly making my stomach lurch every time I didn’t stay distracted. I’d broken up with the only man I’d ever loved. I knew it was the right thing to do, but it was sickening. We were so close to being a good team. If I could unclench a little, and Nate could stick his head into the real world where things don’t always work out, there would be a chance for us.

  I’d been working on unclenching for years, and was actually improving a lot. But Nate seemed to be exactly the same. He was going to have to accept that things change, people change, and it was over.

  Chapter Twenty Two ~ Nate

  * Beige Carpet *

  Bones are lead. Skin is ice. Heart can barely bring itself to beat.

  Lying facedown on the beige carpet, I thought about how many dirty pairs of shoes have trod across this surface and wished they could walk over me now. At least that would allow me to feel something.

  Time was frozen, or hours had passed. I didn’t know. A knock at the door made me grunt, but I couldn't form words.

  “Jesus Christ,” Dave muttered as he walked in. “What happened?”

  “I can’t…” My voice cracked like an amateur at karaoke.

  “Dammit,” he said quietly.

  There’s a strange thud, and I opened my eyes to see him sitting cross-legged beside me. His hand was heavy on the back of my shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

  Forcing my lungs to move, I mumbled, “Not physically.”

  There was a little speck of dirt about three inches from my nose that I was pretty sure had more life in it than I did. I didn’t have the focus to explain that to Dave.

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

  Finally moving my eyes to meet his , I realized he was seriously worried. A broken groan escaped me. “Trisha’s gone.”

  “Oh fuck,” Dave sighed. “Nate, I’m so sorry. Where is she now?”

  “Toronto. She dumped me over the fucking phone.” My shaking voice was disgustingly pathetic.

  “Get up,” he commanded sharply.

  I was so shocked that I obeyed, digging my hands into the carpet to roll until I was on my knees.

  “You’re Nate Roberts, singer of Violet Circles, Hemlock and Emeralds, and winner of Love Rockers. Get on your damn feet.”

  My body pulled itself up slowly, as Dave stood in front of me. His gaze was fierce.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you. I won’t pretend to imagine how much this must hurt. And the timing absolutely sucks. But I need your answer on the album right now.”

  “Damn. Forgot about that.”

  Dave grabbed me by the elbow and shoved me toward the couch. He dug in the fridge and set a bottle of water in front of me before sitting.

  “Thanks.”

  His heavy sigh sounded stressed. Guilt seeped through me for a moment. At least that was a feeling.

  “Quick – tell me your gut reaction,’ Dave said quickly. “Do the album or start with the band?”

  “Do the album with the band,” I said, giving my head a shake. My hands were heavy and cold on my legs. “Trisha suggested that I do the album, using the show’s house band for the songs I did on the show, and my band for the new songs. Also, she said maybe I should think about non-relationship love songs. People also love places, material objects, coffee. Stuff like that.”

  “She is a clever one,” he grinned. Whipping out his phone, his thumbs tapped rapidly across the glass. “Checking to make sure that meets their criteria.”

  He turned to look at me head on. “I should hear back shortly. I’m sorry that we need to get on this right now. Do you need food? Coffee?”

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to visualize my head clearing. I needed to focus enough to get through the day. I could fall apart again at night. “Coffee and a scrambled egg wrap.”

  Dave quickly called room service, ordering the same for himself. Then he looked around at the usual array of notebooks and scattered pages. “You need around five more songs. How’s the writing going?”

  “Two are done. I’ve sent a shitty phone recording to the band so they can think about their parts, and make suggestions. Another is half-written. I have endless scribbles, so I could get two more started today.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m glad you’re calling in the band for help. That’s smart.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hearing the lifelessness in my voice. I couldn’t control it. “I’m sorry this happened at the worst time.”

  “There’s never a good time for a breakup,” he said kindly. “But yeah, it sucks that you’ll have to write love songs when you’re not feeling it. Think about all of the hard-working people who have to mop floors, nail sheetrock, or shovel shit out of the barn today. I bet some of them aren’t feeling it either.”

  Watching him chuckle, the best I could do is nod. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll get it done.”

  “Go take a shower,” he said. “Then we’ll make a plan, and get cracking.”

  “Thank you.” I shuffled off to the washroom, grabbing clean clothes on the way.

  By the time I came out, I actually felt a little brighter. There was still a crushing pain where my heart should be, but I smelled better. I could see straight.

  Sitting on the couch in front of my breakfast, I saw that Dave had already collected my notes and stacked them at the end of the table. Sipping my coffee, I started flipping through them.

  “You know how I usually stay out of the actual process of your music?” Dave said through a mouthful of eggs.

  “Yeah.”

  “For the next few days, I’m going to butt in. I don’t want you wasting time writing a love song about a cockroach, or something in another language. I think you might need some babysitting right now.”

  “You’re right. Thank you.” My voice sounded lower, and hollow.

  Over the next few hours we had the TV show approve my idea for the split album, four new songs sketched out to the point that Dave said they were good and marketable, and the next three songwriting rehearsals scheduled.

  Productivity helped to get my mind off my misery for at least a few minutes at a time. I was able to take a full breath. My skin was too tight and my limbs were heavy, but breathing fully was a start.

  Dave stood up, grabbing his phone from where it was plugged into the wall, and stuffing the charger in his jacket pocket as he checked his messages.

  “I have to go, but the night shift is on the way up.”

  My eyes were locked onto a piece of paper, trying to decipher a scribble I likely made in the middle of the night. “Hmm?” I wasn’t sure I heard him right.

  He went to the door, and opened it to show Lora with her hand raised, about to knock. He grabbed the guitar case from her hand and brought it in. She pulled off the shoulder straps of her bass case, leaning it against the wall.

  “Acoustic songwriting and arran
gements tonight,” she said, taking Dave’s spot on the couch.

  “It sounds like there are four songs under construction here, plus the two he had already sent you guys," Dave said. "Once he has played you all six songs, and you've confirmed that they sound marketable to your ear, order dinner. If you two can get scratch tracks to the rest of the band tonight, that would be amazing."

  I almost laughed that he was addressing Lora instead of me. It was pathetic that they thought I needed supervision. On the other hand, it was truly touching that I had people to lean on, and who would force their help on me without asking.

  “Got it," she said. "I'll also send you a quick report after rehearsal tomorrow, once we have the songs arranged. Do Love Rockers have to approve the content?"

  Dave’s sandy hair tilted back and forth for a second. "Legally, not exactly, but since we are running a bit behind, it would be courteous to send them a thorough update as quickly as possible. We don't want them to lose faith in the project, and we're already doing something weird by using two different bands."

  "Okay," Lora said. "I'll make sure that we have fully arranged scratch tracks, a title, and I'll type up most of the lyrics, or at least the choruses. That should be enough to give them the flavor of each song, right?"

  "Absolutely," Dave said.

  "Does he need another coffee?" Lora asked Dave.

  "Jesus Christ, I'm right here,” I snapped. Then I laughed. A big messy childish laugh that sent me into a coughing fit.

  "There he is," Lora said, sliding her arm around me to hug me and smack me on the back while I choked.

  "I'm out of reach for a few hours, but you can text me later tonight if you need to," Dave said. "Nate, you are a trooper to keep on working. Focus as much as you can, and Lora has the authorization to kick your ass as much as needed."

  "Thanks, guys," I said, rolling my eyes. Then I turned to Dave. "Seriously, thanks, man. I really appreciate you taking care of all of the details and legal crap."

  "That's what a manager and best buddy is for," Dave grinned, grabbing his leather shoulder bag and slipping out.

  We pulled out the guitars and got straight to work, singing and playing quietly so as not to disturb other guests. After we got two songs in relatively good working order, Lora raised her arms straight up in the air, stretching out her shoulders. Then she laughed. "I swear, you are the only guy on the planet whose eyes never land on my boobs."

  "Not true. I helped you fix a necklace once, and they were right there."

  "That's because they're everywhere," she giggled. We set the guitars down, and I went to get us a couple of glasses of water.

  "How are you hanging in?" she asked softly.

  Slumping back onto the couch, all I could do was sip my water then shrug. "If I think about it, it hurts to breathe," I whispered.

  "Oh my God, you poor thing," she said, reaching out to squeeze my knee. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "There's not much to say. Apparently, I'm not the one for her."

  Her finger tapped on my jeans until I turned to look at her. "Are you positive that's the problem?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  I stared at her. Damn, that was some bright purple eyeshadow.

  "Did it cross your mind for just one second that Trisha might be terrified that she's not the one for you?"

  My mouth fell open. "That's insane. I've wanted her for so long. I've searched for her for years."

  Lora shook her head, her green and black hair swinging around her chin. "That wasn't her you were looking for. That was your memory of her from when you were teenagers. There is an entirely new version of her now. A grown-ass woman with needs and fears and a life of her own."

  "Yeah. We talked about getting to know the new versions of each other."

  She tucked her heels up under her, turning to me completely. "Nate, when we were out at lunch, did you notice that the server was completely checking you out?"

  "No. I don't think I noticed her at all."

  "Trisha did. She watched the woman fawn all over you. When she saw you on the TV show, I bet she saw hundreds of women screaming for you."

  "Yeah, but I don't know them. I don't want to know them."

  "Open your mind for a second and try to see how intimidating it would be to attempt to be your girlfriend. Hundreds of women that she might think are prettier, more outgoing, and more suited to you, are right in front of you every time you turn a corner."

  I nodded slightly. My mind was beginning to turn numb.

  “Plus,” she continued, “Just when she was trying to get comfortable and get to know you, her picture was splattered online, invading her privacy. Some of the women who are in love with you now hate her. Yeah, it’s illogical, but people want to think of their rockstars as single so they can fantasize about having a chance. It’s demented, but it’s true.”

  Prickles formed in the pit of my stomach. “That’s insane.”

  “Yes. But you know it happens. Some of the women who rabidly followed you on TV will go the other way, and now be fascinated with her, and want to know every little thing about her. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Did that site take the stuff down yet?”

  Lora shrugged. “I haven’t looked.”

  Grabbed my phone, I jumped up. “I think I can fix that. Could you please order dinner? Anything you want is fine.”

  Usually I had Dave take care of things, but I thought this might be taken more seriously if I called the network myself.

  Chapter Twenty Three ~ Trisha

  * Defender of the Cute *

  Two weeks after the best and worst trip ever, I went out to the reception area after work. Emily smiled at me warmly as she hung up the phone. "I was just calling you," she said sweetly. "Carrie Daniels is here to see you, but she just popped into the tiny room."

  I loved the way our efficient new receptionist referred to the washroom.

  "May I set you ladies up in the conference room with refreshments?" she asked.

  "No, thanks Emily. We're just going out to the pub."

  "Excellent," she said crisply, flashing me a softer smile. "It's certainly not my place to say, but it seems that you work very hard. You've definitely earned a few drinks."

  Glancing at her monitor, I noticed that the only non-work related window open was the local weather. "They're expecting a bit of rain in about an hour, but you should be safely indoors by then," she said.

  Carrie came out of the washroom and instantly gave me a big hug. "Why does it feel like it's been forever?" she said.

  "Because Ms. O'Reilly works too hard," Emily stated with a saucy wink.

  Carrie jerked her thumb at the reception desk. "Keep this one. She's great."

  "Thank you," Emily laughed lightly. "Have a lovely evening, ladies."

  As we walked to the pub, I breathed a sigh of relief. "Emily has changed that entire office. People are more relaxed. She actually works, and helps everyone. She was astounded that I was the one who ordered office supplies, and Tina was the one who did the coffee order, and has taken that on herself. Plus, she switched to a smaller supplier, and the coffee is better."

  Carrie glanced at me. "Plus, Kim is hopefully rotting in hell somewhere."

  "I don't even want to think about that," I said.

  "Well, there's one little piece of information you should be aware of. Her site is gone."

  "What do you mean gone? Gary was going to ask her to pull the stuff about me."

  "Oh no, it's totally gone."

  As soon as we were in our booth at Duncan’s, Carrie ordered wine and I tried to call up Kim's gossip site. The URL said, "The site you are looking for appears to be missing," on a bland gray background.

  "Holy shit," I whispered. I simply stared at my phone until Carrie pulled it out of my hands and replaced it with a wine glass. "Thanks."

  Carrie’s fingers tapped on the table for a moment. "I don't think she'd delete the entire site because of her uncle. I wonder if she got into trouble someho
w."

  "Some of the other articles on that site looked like they were complete lies. Kim was so lazy, maybe she just made things up and someone called her on it?" I asked.

  "Or she pissed off somebody whose brother was a lawyer. With a tiny two-bit operation like that, one cease and desist letter with the proper threatening tone can really scare an idiot who has no idea what they're doing," Carrie laughed.

  "Lawyers," I said thoughtfully. "Nate said that his manager Dave was always going over his contracts with a lawyer."