31. 31
Hayes
Now
T he following week, Outlaw is in Los Angeles promoting our upcoming album.
Once we wrap up our business on the west coast, we’re scheduled to fly to New York.
Rinse, dry, repeat. Charlotte has crammed our schedules with a shit ton of stuff.
Sound checks, rehearsals, interviews, radio and television performances, meet and greets, dinners with VIPs, and of course, performances on the late-night talk show circuit.
We’re so busy, I’m shocked Char hasn’t penciled in specific times for me to take a shit.
My phone rings, and Char’s photo flashes across the screen. Speak of the devil.
“What’s up?” Despite the early hour, I’m not surprised Charlotte is already awake and working. The woman is a workaholic to the nth degree.
There was a time not long ago that if Char called me at this hour, she would have found me sleeping off last night’s whiskey.
But as Bob Dylan once sang, the times they are a-changin’.
So, even though it’s still early in California, I’ve been up for over an hour and already knocked out a workout in the hotel gym.
Letting myself back into my suite, I take a chilled bottle of water from the small refrigerator and start chugging it.
“Bad news, I’m afraid. Sloane, the actress you fired from the Room 112 video, sold her story to a tabloid. I’ve emailed it to you.”
“What the fuck?” I explode, coughing on the water. “She signed an NDA. She can’t legally talk about it!”
“From the contents of the article, it seems like she must have spoken to an attorney because she declined to comment about the song, the music, or the contents of the video…” Char emits a frustrated sigh.
“But nothing in our paperwork says she can’t speak about the interpersonal dynamics she witnessed between the people at the shoot. ”
The people at the shoot?
Oh, shit.
Annabelle.
“Hayes, just read the article.”
Discarding my water, I put Char on speakerphone before thumbing over to my email. With trepidation, I click on the link and read the brief article.
“I mean, it could have been worse, Hayes. At least Sloane didn’t know Annabelle’s full name. But it’s only a matter of time before someone puts two and two together and figures out who she is. ”
“Yeah,” I murmur, scratching my jaw as I pace the length of the living area.
I knew this day would come eventually, but I’ve been dreading it. Not so much for me, but for Annabelle. The media will do their digging and dredge up the details of Kyle’s death. I hate that by dating me, Annabelle and her daughters will have to relive that trauma.
“Can’t we come out swinging, Char? Can’t we put out a story that Sloane misconstrued the facts?
We could say Annabelle is an old friend, or that she was at the shoot because she was the guest of someone else,” I suggest, running my hand through my sweat-soaked hair.
“People will believe me over some actress who got fired from our music video. It’ll look like Sloane’s sour and spewing lies for a payday. ”
“We could.” There’s a pause. “But if you and Annabelle are serious, then the public will learn the truth eventually. And then you’ll come out of this as the one who spewed the lies, Hayes.”
Damn, she has a point. “Well, what do you suggest?”
“I’ve already had our attorneys send Sloane a letter threatening legal action if she continues speaking to the press, and I’ve called her agency to lodge a professional complaint against her.
As far as refuting the article, the label’s PR strategists recommended we do nothing.
It’s a bunch of vague hearsay and speculation, and to address it would lend credence to Sloane’s claims.” A tinge of sheepishness colors Charlotte’s voice when she adds, “Plus, the label said that radio requests and streaming numbers for Every Now and Then have jumped fifteen percent since the article came out yesterday.”
“Char,” I warn, my pacing coming to a standstill.
“I know, I know, Hayes. It’s bullshit, but… bullshit sells.”
With a groan, I drop onto the edge of the couch. “Thanks for the heads-up. I need to call Annabelle and tell her about the article. ”
But Annabelle beats me to the punch and calls me before I can dial her number.
“Hey, Yankee. You calling ‘cause you miss me or because you saw the article?”
“Can’t it be both?”
There’s a playfulness present in Annabelle’s voice that relaxes me. I lean back against the couch cushions as a smile stretches across my lips. Just like it always does when I talk to Annabelle.
“I miss you too, babe. And I’m so fucking sorry about the article.”
“God, I’m just glad Sloane didn’t tell the tabloid that you fired her and that I took her place in the video!”
“She can’t do that without breaking the NDA,” I reply, quick to reassure her. “I just got off the phone with Charlotte. She has our attorneys breathing down Sloane’s back, so I doubt she’ll speak to the press again. And speaking of the video, I saw the rough cut yesterday. It looks good.”
“Can you tell it’s me?” Annabelle sounds a lot more worried about this possibility than she does about the article.
“No. About ninety-five percent of the video is of Sloane and me. They only used brief flashes of the footage you and I shot, and since the lighting was dark and they never showed your face, no one will realize it isn’t Sloane in those shots."
She lets out a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief. One less thing for me to worry about, I guess.”
“Thought anymore about living in the condo? That’d be one less worry.”
“Hayes,” Annabelle says, drawing out my name.
“No pressure. Just wanted to remind you that the offer is available.”
“I know it is, and thank you. But…” She trails off without completing her thought, and I let it lie. “I just pulled up at work, so I need to let you go.”
“Love you. I’ll call you later.”
But when I call her later, she doesn’t answer.
My phone chimes with a new text, and my heart skips a beat, hoping like hell that it's a text from Annabelle.
Since I've been in LA, my conversations with Annabelle have become more and more infrequent. At first, I blamed my schedule and the time difference, but it quickly became clear that wasn’t the problem.
Even when I managed a quick text or call, her replies were sparse.
Short and stiff. Nothing like how we usually talk.
When I called her out on the shift in her behavior, she admitted that she'd had a therapy appointment this week that stirred up some tough feelings.
She asked that I give her a little space to recover and lick her wounds.
I don't know what was discussed, but it must have been heavy, probably related to her marriage.
But part of me worries that she's second-guessing our relationship.
I told her I'd abide by her desire for space, but it's hard as hell not to be there for her. I hate it, and I don't know how much longer I can go before I cave.
When I grab my cell phone, I see it isn’t a text from Annabelle. I frown at the unknown number, but then my mouth relaxes into a grin when I read the accompanying text.
Unknown
Hi, Hayes. This is Grace. We’re doing a class project researching the fifty states in the USA. Could you please send me postcards from California? That would really help our class out.
Damn. I smile and shake my head. If I didn’t know this kid personally, there’s no way that I’d ever believe that a second grader wrote that text. But maybe kids were just dumber in my day.
At least, I know I was a total knucklehead when I was Grace’s age.
Me
Sure, Gertrude, I can do that for you.
Grace
Thanks, Kitten.
God, she’s cheeky, and I love her attitude, especially because I know she inherited it from her mother.
I’ll drop Kitten if you drop Gertrude.
Me
Gertie still in play?
Grace
Yeah, Gertie works.
Me
It’s a deal, Gertie. I’m heading to New York tomorrow. Want me to send you a postcard from there too?
Grace
Yes, please! The more postcards our class gets, the better! Thanks, Hayes.
Me
No problem. So, what else is new?
Grace
Mom said she thinks we’re going to have to rent Mr. Dave’s house for a few months before we buy something, but she’s a little worried he might be a curve. But Aunt Laura says he’s not a curve.
A curve? What the hell does that mean? A curve?
Wait.
Could Grace mean a perv ? Like Annabelle's co-worker might be a pervert?
Oh, hell no. That's not happening.
Me
Tell me more about this curve, Grace.
Having no willpower, I may as well use Grace to obtain information about Annabelle. It’s kind of a chump move, but with states separating us, I’ll use whatever informational sources I can.
At least that’s how I rationalize pumping a kid for intel.
Grace
IDK. Aunt Laura says he has a crush on Mom, but Mom's worried he might be a weirdo.
Me
Your mom told you all that ?
Grace
No way. I eavesdrop.
I grin. Yep, that tracks.
Me
How's your mom handling everything?
Bubbles hop across the phone screen, showing that Grace is responding, but I’m surprised when she takes a couple of minutes to formulate her response.
Grace
Mom’s okay, just really stressed about moving and stuff. She’s frustrated because she can’t find a house she likes, and she’s worried about getting the house all packed up for the movers.
A tough therapy session on top of the stress of moving has been a double-whammy for Annabelle. Shit, add in Sloane's article and it's a triple-whammy. My work trip couldn’t have come at a worse time. I want to be in Nashville with her, offering aid and support.
I hate feeling helpless.
When I let that thought sink in, I realize this situation brings me back to the feelings of helplessness I often felt as a child because I couldn't do more to help my mom out.
Mulling over Grace’s messages, I have a few ideas of ways to help Annabelle, though.
We’ve already discussed the idea of them staying in the condo until she finds a place, but after hearing that Annabelle doesn’t feel entirely comfortable renting her co-worker’s house, my resolution grows stronger. Now, I just need to convince Annabelle to take the idea seriously.
Me
I’ll be back in a couple of days, but call me if you need anything, Grace. I’m here for y’all.
Grace
Okay, I will. Thanks.
Me
How’s Claire?
Grace
Claire is… Claire. She’s clueless and fine.
I chuckle at Grace’s accurate take on her adorable younger sister.
The time displayed in the upper right-hand corner of my phone catches my eye. I’m due to meet the boys downstairs for a quick lunch at the hotel restaurant before our interview with a magazine reporter, so I need to wrap this up.
Me
I’ll buy some California postcards for you this afternoon. Keep an eye on your mom and LMK if you need anything.
Grace
Cool, thanks, Hayes.
If the rest of your band could also sign the postcards, that would be extra cool.
Before I leave my room to go to lunch, I fire off another series of texts.
I'm not exactly giving Annabelle the space she requested, but I've already done that for the past few days and nothing's changed for the better.
After hearing from Grace, I'm even more concerned.
Annabelle is stubborn and fiercely independent, but she needs to be reminded that she isn't alone.
That she has people who care about her and will support her.
Me
Bailey, think you could do me a favor?
Bailey
Depends. Is this the type of favor that could end with a prison sentence?
Me
Not this time. Think you could check in on Annabelle for me?
Bailey
Everything ok?
Me
I hope so. She's pulled away while we've been out of town. Just need someone to set eyes on her and make sure she's doing alright.
Bailey
Consider it done. I'll keep you posted.