CHAPTER 21 #3
Ruth swallowed hard. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am. I’m from Bixby, and I’m your biggest fan.”
Reba tapped a finger to her chin, pretending to consider. “An Okie, huh?” Then she grinned. “All right, I’ll allow it.”
Jamie pulled out her phone, knowing Ruth would be too shy to ask. “Can I get a picture?”
Reba turned to her. “Are you Jamie Keaton?”
“I am.” Jamie shook her hand.
“That song of yours with Clayton is on my playlist.”
Jamie smiled. “Thank you, Ms. McEntire.”
“Reba,” she corrected with a wink.
“Thank you, Reba.”
Jamie held up her phone as Reba put an arm around Ruth.
“Say cheese,” Jamie said, snapping the picture just as Ruth erupted into laughter, gasping for air. The shot would be perfect—pure, unfiltered happiness.
All that waiting for a two-minute rehearsal.
Jamie barely had time to get comfortable before it was over.
She and Clayton were presenting Group of the Year—he read his lines, she read hers, and the pre-taped video rolled, announcing the nominees.
When it ended Jamie had the honor of revealing the winner.
As soon as they were done the stage manager ushered them backstage to the green room, where Ruth was still deep in conversation with Reba. From the way they were laughing they looked like old friends.
Jamie and Clayton stopped by the bar and he ordered their drinks—using his Steve Trevor accent, of course. She rolled her eyes but accepted the glass anyway.
When they reached Ruth and Reba, still chatting like besties, Ruth turned to them. “How did it go?”
Jamie took a sip. “Quick.”
Clayton grinned. “Smooth.”
Reba glanced at her watch and let out a little sigh. “Shoot, I’ve got to run. I’ll see y’all tonight.” With a warm smile she gave Ruth’s arm a squeeze and was gone.
A large man wearing a security uniform approached them, his expression unreadable.
“Miss Keaton?” His voice was calm but Jamie’s stomach tensed at the way he looked at her—serious, like she was in trouble.
She swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“There’s someone waiting for you in your dressing room.”
Jamie’s pulse skipped. “Who? ”
“I don’t know, ma’am.” He shrugged. “They just told me to tell you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind, none of them good. Her body went rigid, a cold weight pressing on her chest. Please, not him.
“I’m coming with you,” Ruth said firmly, her eyes narrowing. “It could be your stalker.”
Jamie curled her fingers into fists. Her skin prickled as a familiar unwanted fear crawled up her spine.
“How would my stalker even get past security?” she said, but her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be.
She took a step toward the exit, her heart hammering now.
What if it’s Derrick? The thought alone sent a chill through her.
Clayton stepped closer. “I’m coming too.”
Jamie nodded, her throat tight, and followed the security guard, each step heavier than the last.
The security guard opened a door with a star sign that read jamie keaton .
“AJ?” Jamie froze in the doorway, stunned to see her father lounging in her chair across from the vanity. But of course he’d found his way backstage, probably spinning some story to an unsuspecting stagehand about how he’d been invited.
“Is everything okay?” the security guard asked.
Even though it wasn’t, Jamie forced a smile. “Yeah.”
“Hi, Mr. Baxter!” Ruth greeted him, ever the polite one.
Jamie stepped forward, her voice sharp. “How did you get in here?”
AJ grinned, leaning back like he owned the place. “Told them I was your dad—AJ Keaton.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re using my last name now?”
“When it suits.”
He extended a hand to Clayton. “AJ. ”
Clayton shook it firmly, and Jamie didn’t miss the way her father held on a second too long. Testing him.
“Clayton Langley.”
AJ nodded. “Big fan.”
Jamie crossed her arms. “Why are you here?” She wasn’t surprised. He’d been calling. She hadn’t answered.
“What do you mean? I live here, sweetheart.”
“Here? At the MGM Grand?” She lowered her voice. “You remember you’re banned from this casino, right?”
AJ pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights from his shirt pocket, tapping one out with practiced ease. “I’m not playing the tables. Just came to see you.”
“You can’t smoke in here,” she told him.
He tapped the pack against his palm, knocking a cigarette loose. “It’s a casino.”
“You can only smoke in designated areas, Mr. Baxter,” Ruth said, helpful as always.
Jamie cut to the chase. “What do you want?” There was always an angle. Always.
Clayton shifted beside her. “Jamie, maybe your daddy just wanted to see you.”
She scoffed. “You don’t know him like I do.”
AJ pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “That hurts.”
“If you need tickets, I don’t have any.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Already got tickets. But if you could give me a line on who’s winning, that’d help.”
“You’re betting on the awards?” Not surprising. Given the chance AJ would bet on the color of someone’s underwear.
“We don’t know who’s winning,” Ruth said .
“What about the category you’re presenting?”
“The envelope’s sealed,” Clayton said.
AJ sighed, slipping the cigarette back into the pack. “Guess I’ll find out the old-fashioned way.” He stood. “Is there any grub around here? I’m starving.”
“There’s food in the green room,” Ruth offered.
Jamie shot her a glare. “He’s not going to the green room.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty. “Here.”
AJ looked at the bill like it was a personal insult. “This won’t go far, sweetheart. Places have gotten expensive.”
Clayton reached for his wallet. Jamie grabbed his wrist. “Don’t you dare.” She pulled out another twenty and slapped it into AJ’s palm. “That’s all you’re getting.”
AJ lingered a second longer, like he wanted to say something, then pulled her into a half-hug. She barely returned it before he was gone.
And to think she’d told herself she was just here visiting, that there was nothing to worry about. But her gut had never steered her wrong. Now she’d be waiting for him to show up later to ruin everything like he always did.
“I’m sorry about him,” Jamie muttered to Clayton. “He’s embarrassing. Always wanting something.”
Clayton brushed a hand over her shoulder, his touch light. “No, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have jumped in.”
She sighed. “He’s always got some racket going—pyramid schemes, timeshare scams, get-rich-quick garbage.” Her eyes locked onto his. “Promise me you’ll never give him money. Don’t invest in anything he pitches.”
Clayton grinned. “Not a chance, darlin’. I only invest in gold.”
“Smart. ”
He tilted his head. “Got a question, though. Why’s your daddy not allowed in the casino?”
Jamie’s lips curved. “He counts cards.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Clayton’s face. “No kidding? Do you know how to do that?”
She leaned in just enough to tease. “Taught by the best. Why do you think I always win at blackjack?”
Back in her room Jamie’s nerves were still rattled from seeing her dad. She poured herself a stiff drink, hoping to shake off the encounter. The audacity of him asking about the winners made her blood boil—she hoped he’d lose in every category.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. When she opened it a hairstylist and makeup artist stood there, their rolling carts in tow like traveling saleswomen.
Sinking into the plush orange chair she let them go to work, sipping her cocktail and doing her best to stay still. At least the worst part was over, she told herself.
A few more hours and it would all be over.
Another knock came minutes later. Probably Ruth. Jamie started to rise but the hairstylist was already setting her curlers. With no way to move without disrupting the process, she glanced at the makeup artist. “Can you get that, please?”
“Hi, Jamie!” a woman’s voice said behind her, but the voice wasn’t Ruth’s.
“Hi, Lisa,” she said to her publicist. “What brings you by?”
Lisa stepped around the orange chair to face Jamie.
She looked even prettier than the last time she’d seen her, which was annoying.
Her sleek brown hair had been cut into an angled bob that showed off her sharp cheekbones, and she wore a white three-piece suit—bold, stylish, and infuriatingly perfect.
“I was next door helping Clayton with his socials,” Lisa said casually.
In his hotel room?
Her pulse rocketed, irrational jealousy creeping in before she could stop it. Was Lisa always this helpful, or just with him? She probably knew exactly what to post to make him look good.
Lisa continued, “He asked me to stop by and grab his bottle of Jack.”
Jamie rubbed her palms against her thighs. Of course he did. “It’s over there,” she said, jerking a thumb toward the bar.
“Thanks,” Lisa said with a nod, walking away with a confidence that made Jamie clench her jaw.
Before she could dwell on it a sharp knock rattled the door.
Jamie huffed. “What is this, Grand Central Station?” She winced as she shifted. “Lisa, would you mind? I can’t move.”
“No probs,” Lisa said, opening the door. “It’s Rue!”
“Ruth,” the assistant corrected her, stepping inside.
“Need anything before I go?” Lisa asked, but she wasn’t looking at Jamie anymore—her eyes flicked toward the bottle on the bar. Clayton’s bottle that she was sent there for.
Jamie swallowed, the ugly feeling rising in her chest. “No, I’m good.”
“That’s my job,” Ruth interjected, her voice a little stiff.
Lisa smiled. “See you guys later.” She disappeared into the hall and Jamie resisted the urge to throw a pillow at the door.
Was she taking that bottle straight to Clayton? Were they going to drink it together ?
Ruth flopped onto the couch. “Your makeup looks fantastic!”
Jamie blinked, snapping back to the moment. “Does it? I haven’t even looked.”
“We have to leave in ten.”
Jamie took a slow breath, pushing down the ridiculous feeling swirling in her chest. “I just need to get dressed.”