CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cassie
“This schedule isn’t normal, Cassie. I don’t want to bash another manager’s approach but he’s grossly overworking you. I’m not surprised you reacted the way you did last night.”
The constant methodic tick of my IV at St Vincent Medical in Sante Fe is the only sound in the room as I sit across from Fiona Teller, Evan Woods’s manager—the woman who called an ambulance for me last night when my own manager was nowhere to be found.
“There’s no way you could know this, but I started my career working alongside Dax.
We haven’t worked together for years but we were both at Crystal Stage.
” She mentions a Nashville label known for starting the careers of many young stars.
“You shouldn’t be playing somewhere practically every other day for eight months straight. ”
She’s right, I’ve been going hard since last summer. The longest break I’ve had was the two days in September when I went to see Ivy in Kentucky.
“Forgive me for saying this, Cass, but I left Crystal for a reason. Dax and I had very different ideas in those days about how to work with musicians. We didn’t mesh well.
I hold no ill feelings toward him. That’s not what this is.
He went one way and I went the other, but I want to be upfront with my history.
I chose to leave and work with a firm that remember their talent are human beings first. This”—she looks at my schedule—“is too much,”
I lean my head back against the pillow and blow out a breath.
“I was just doing what I needed to get my name out there.”
“Have you ever had a panic attack like that before?” Fiona asks.
I shake my head as I glance over at her. “They’ve gotten worse but I can usually feel it coming and stop it but since the trampling …” I wince at the memory. “I just can’t, no matter what I do.”
Fiona’s dark eyes are full of care and she’s a lot more put together than I am right now.
She’s a beautiful woman, with light brown skin and thick curly black hair that she’s slicked back into a tight bun today.
Her jeans and heels are fashion perfection, with her crisp white blouse tucked into them at her curvy waist. Her appearance is a far cry from mine, as I sport greasy hair and a hospital gown.
“I think the anxiety in me has been building. I’ve always felt it, but this year has been …
” I blow out a breath. “Something else entirely. I don’t enjoy the stage to begin with.
All I want is to do what I do best and write music.
But Dax was adamant I had to perform to get my songs noticed. To pay my dues and get my name known.”
“He’s not wrong, in a way, but your songs are damn good. When does he think it will be enough for you to pursue your actual dreams?” Fiona asks as she sips her coffee from a paper cup. I shrug.
“There’s a way to get your name out there and still have time to do things like eat, sleep, fuck …” She smirks. “Especially with his idea of you trying to fit in recording another album—”
Her phone goes off with multiple beeps, cutting her off.
“So sorry, but I’m late to a phone meeting.
” Her eyes flit to mine. “Look, Cassie. I don’t know you well, but I know enough.
” She stands and moves toward me, patting me on the hand before pulling out a business card and sliding it under the magazine she brought me on my bedside table.
“I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but you’re the talent.
You should be treated like it. If you ever need anything, call me.
And please, call Dr. Payler. She’s the best there is and her husband was a guitarist for Wicked Lizard back in the day, so she understands the pressure of this business … ”
She smiles and I let out a long sigh. “Thank you, Fiona. I mean it.”
“Get some rest, hun. And take some real time to heal.”
She looks over at me as she reaches the door. When she pulls it open, Dax is standing at the threshold. He’s on the phone and they almost collide when he sees her. She side-eyes me, smiles and waves as she disappears into the corridor.
“I’ll call you back,” Dax mutters as he hangs up. “What was she doing here?”
I stare at him for a beat and wait, giving him a chance to be caring and actually ask me how I am. He doesn’t.
“I’m great, thanks. How are you?” I retort sarcastically. “And she was just checking on me. She was worried.”
“Yeah, worried about poaching you, more like it,” he says as he takes the seat she was just sitting in.
“Okay, damage control is done,” Dax says as he types away on his phone.
“The world thinks you caught a sudden stomach flu before the show last night and that’s why Evan had to swoop in and play a few songs. ”
I sigh. At least that’s one problem solved.
The last thing I need is gossip around why I couldn’t get onstage.
Although I’m sure people are already talking about it.
I’m sure there are rumors running rampant about me.
Fabricated stories I’m helpless to defend myself against. I look out the window as the sound of Dax typing on his phone fills the room. It’s obnoxious.
“I need a break,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the trees swaying in the breeze outside.
He doesn’t look up. “I know. Take a few days, maybe a week or so, then we’ll meet back in Nashville and finish off that recording. In the meantime, I’ll set you up with some interviews so everyone can see you’re—”
“No,” I say simply. I sound confident, but I really have no idea if I’m kissing everything I’ve worked so hard for over the last few years goodbye.
At this point, I don’t care. There’s only one place I can go to find peace, rest and safety.
The place my mom and sister have been begging I return to for the last five days.
“No?” he asks, looking up. Now I’ve got his attention.
“I need more time than that. I need to breathe. What just happened was goddamn traumatic, Dax.”
“You’re a tough cookie, sugar. A trooper. This was a freak accident. I didn’t expect this to keep you down is all. I just want what’s best for you.”
“What’s best for me is a break.”
“For how long?”
I shrug, looking down at the IV in my hand. I wish I could just yank it out and be free of this place. “Not sure. A month, maybe more.”
“A month?” His voice rises an octave. “You might as well make yourself invisible after a month of being out of the public eye. You aren’t established enough yet, Cassie. You—”
“I don’t care,” I say simply. “I need this. And I need to start talking to someone about how to deal with my anxiety … a professional.”
“And just where are you planning on taking this vacation?” he asks with an arrogant tone. My blood boils at the way he downplays the most demanding eight months of my life and the trauma of last week.
“Kentucky.”
His mouth falls open.
“Kentucky? Kentucky is the answer?” he asks, incredulous. I lay my head back, too tired to get into it with him.
“I’m tired now, and I want to be alone please.” I dismiss him.
Dax paces to the window and puts his hands on his hips. “Come on, Cassie, don’t fall into this. I get it. It was hard to see that, but life goes on.”
“I didn’t see it. I was in the middle of it!” I shout, startling even myself as Dax flinches. Neither of us speaks for a moment and then he huffs out a breath.
“Fine. Kentucky it is. At least let me set up some interviews, do some more damage control.”
I know him well enough to know he won’t stop pushing me.
“I want at least a month before you schedule anything. Put out whatever you want to the public. I’m visiting family.
I’m getting some R&R. Do whatever you need to do.
But I have no obligations until April and I’m going to keep it that way until I feel ready.
I need to work through this in my own way. And you need to respect that.”
He turns to face me. “I respect it. But you’re making a mistake, kid.”
“I make lots of those.” I offer him a weak smile. He rakes a hand through his hair, which barely moves out of place.
Dax gives me nothing more than a grimace before he speaks again. “I’ll be in touch. But don’t get too comfortable in Kentucky. We’ve got a busy summer planned.”
He pats my hand and offers me a quick goodbye before stalking out through the door. The moment it closes behind him, tears spill down my cheeks. I swipe them away, pull out my phone and finally make the call to Ivy and Wade.