Chapter One #3
The band members were dressed in a similar style.
Black jeans, black T-shirts, and sneakers.
Christine knew a lot of money went into building a band’s brand.
The last thing anyone wanted was a band of misfits taking attention away from the lead singer.
Looking stylish while also appearing uniform didn’t happen by accident.
Even Alicia was dressed the same, only she was wearing combat-style boots.
She was pretty with big brown doe eyes and small features, but she had a toughness about her. She fit in well with the guys.
“Hi, Alicia,” Christine said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you, too.” Alicia reached out her hand and Christine shook it, giving Alicia a warm smile. Christine knew women in this business could be territorial and the band was Alicia’s territory. Christine respected other people’s positions.
Christine turned away and saw Matt speaking with security guards about the best way to get the limos out of the parking lot and away from the waiting fans.
He ushered Austin into a seat and gave the limo driver directions.
Christine had always been attracted to a “take charge” kind of guy.
For her, it was a total turn-on. Her mom used to say, “Find a man who can assess a chaotic situation and get it under control and you’ll always feel safe.
” That’s what had attracted her mom to her dad.
He was decisive and never panicked. Her mom had been raised by a man who would hyperventilate at the mere sign of a problem.
It had left her feeling unsettled as a child.
She’d done her best to warn Christine about what she considered to be wishy-washy men.
Christine was from a generation that didn’t need a man to take control, but she secretly craved that feeling of safety.
THE PARTY WAS HELD ON THE GROUNDS of Austin’s record label.
A big tent and huge port-a-potties stood on the lawn.
Inside the tent, most people were dressed in tuxes and gowns.
A few guys wore jeans and T-shirts, and numerous young women were in what looked like dressed-up T-shirts.
Christine’s dress was somewhere between tea length and panty-showing short.
It stopped mid-thigh, allowing a modicum of modesty.
“I can’t decide if I’m overdressed or underdressed,” Christine said to Matt, who was standing to her left.
“Yep. That’s an industry party for you. Everything from holey jeans and T-shirts to suits and dresses. The good news is, you can never be dressed wrong.”
Christine turned and took a good look at Matt.
He was handsome. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties.
He had spiky blond hair and blue eyes, and he was dressed in a modest yet tailored suit.
Nothing stood out and said, “Look at me.” But she couldn’t stop looking at him.
She had that same easy feeling she’d had when first meeting him.
When his eyes met hers, she quickly glanced away. But not before seeing him smile.
“Anyone else need the bathroom?” Austin asked, coming up beside them.
“I’ll walk out with you,” Matt said.
“Uh, sure,” Christine said, following behind. She spotted Cat and Kennedy talking with a group of men. She’d lost sight of Alicia and Red.
The port-a-potties were the biggest she’d ever seen.
Three normal-sized stalls could fit inside one.
She wondered if they each held more than one toilet.
As they got closer, one of the doors flung open, and out walked a blonde-haired woman.
She was dressed in a white blouse with a flowing floral skirt.
She was pretty. Very pretty. Not in a Barbie doll way, but definitely eye-catching.
When she talked, she had the strongest southern accent Christine had ever heard.
“Holy crap, that’s a big shitter. I mean, it’s like a condo shitter. I could live in that thing.”
Christine howled. She looked at Matt, who was shaking his head. “I love her,” Christine said.
“That’s our Andy,” Matt said.
Andy walked over, said hello to Matt, kissed Austin on the cheek, and introduced herself to Christine.
“I’m the record rep, Andy. Short for Andrea, but nobody calls me that. Unless I’m doing the naked dance with some dude. They hate yelling out ‘Andy’ in the throes of an O. Like I enjoy yelling out ‘Bubba.’ Who the hell names a guy Bubba? That just ain’t sexy, you know what I mean?”
Christine was shocked into silence.
Matt let “uh-huh” slip from his lips.
“Okay, gotta roll. Later, peeps.” And with that, Andy was gone.
“I love her,” Christine said.
“You already said that,” Matt told her.
“It was worth repeating.”
Christine used the condo shitter, more out of curiosity than need, and when all three were finished, they returned to the party.
Austin ordered three Fireball shots, which they sucked down.
One was usually her limit, but when he ordered another round, she knocked it back.
When her next sentence came out slurred, Austin appeared oblivious to the fact she was buzzed, but Matt stayed close by, plying her with water, while Austin worked the room.
Christine could feel the fuzziness creeping into her brain.
She usually didn’t drink because she didn’t like feeling out of control.
She fell mute, sticking with the old adage: it’s better to keep quiet and be thought stupid than open your mouth and prove it.
She tried not to think about all the times she’d embarrassed herself, trying to be cooler than she was.
She’d found a niche she was comfortable with.
A talented song plugger known for her hard work and professionalism.
She was pretty sure getting drunk at an industry party and slurring her way through conversations would not enhance that reputation.
A number of people came up to chat with Matt. Christine nodded and smiled, but aside from a few basic introductions, she stayed quiet. She recognized some people in the room but didn’t know them well enough to strike up a conversation.
“I never say the right thing when I drink,” she said to Matt. She had leaned in to whisper in his ear but misjudged and her lips touched him.
“Who does?” He grinned and lightly touched her arm. It gave her chills. “Are you bored yet?”
“Parties aren’t really my thing,” she said.
“Mine either. I’m the tour manager, the right-hand man, the wingman. So I have to be here, ready to jump and ask how high. But right about now, my sofa sounds pretty damn good.”
A visual of Matt lying on his couch, shirtless and in sweatpants, breezed through her mind. She wished she could screenshot it.
“You two look awful cozy,” Austin said.
Christine looked up. She hadn’t noticed Austin walking their way.
“Just killing time,” Matt said.
“I’m ready to hit the road if you are,” Austin said. “I told the others to hang as long as they want. They can Uber home.”
“It’s only one o’clock. I expected you to party all night,” Christine said, most of the Fireball having worn off.
“If it was my party, I’d go all night. But at this kind of party, it’s best to leave early.”
“Why?”
“Three reasons, Chrissy, and these are important.”
“It’s Christine,” she said. “Lay these reasons on me.”
“One, you never want to show your ass in front of the record execs. Two, most of the chicks you’re considering doing the bunk bump with are either a record exec’s trophy wife, their daughter, or their niece. And last, stars leave the party early and alone. It adds to the intrigue.”
“I have so much to learn,” Christine said.
“If you’re going to hang with me, you do.”
“If I’m going to hang with you?”
“I was just talking to my producer about it. I want you to go on the road with me. I think you’ll get a better feel for my musical style if you do.
Think about it.” He pulled out his phone.
“Bring it in for a quick selfie.” He turned on the camera, reached out to Matt and Christine, and snapped the photo.
“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand, and they ran to the limo.
Come on the road with me? Was he kidding? She could think of nothing worse than being on a bus with a bunch of guys for a weekend. The thought of the smells alone made her want to say no. But opportunities like tonight didn’t happen to Christine ever, much less repeatedly. She would think about it.
She desperately wanted a copy of the photo but didn’t want to ask. She was steeling her nerves when Matt spoke up.
“Hey, send that pic to Christine and me, please.”
“You got it. Chrissy, what’s your number?” Austin asked, ready to tap it in.
Christine gave Austin her number. “Please put it under Christine.”
“Got it. Now you’ll have mine. See if you can find me another big song. Maybe hit me up next week.” He sent the picture.
Not wanting to appear too eager, she decided she would look at it later.
“Where do you live?” Austin asked.
“Brentwood. You?”
“Franklin. We can drop you off on the way home or you can spend the night at my place.”
What?!
Christine’s head nearly exploded. Had Austin Garrett just invited her to his house?
That’s leading lady stuff. Christine saw herself as more of a supporting actress in life.
She didn’t play a bit part, but she wasn’t top-of-the-line either.
A million thoughts crammed into her brain in a matter of seconds.
She imagined herself talking to her friends the next day.
“Did I mention that I went back to his house and we had sex all night long?” A smile crossed her face.
But Christine prided herself on being pragmatic and leading with her brain, not her hormones.
The next vision she had was of herself doing the walk of shame.
She’d never hear from Austin again if she slept with him. And it would get around the industry.
“Hello? Are you there?” Austin brought her out of her head and back to the moment.
“You can take me home. Thanks for the offer, though.”
Christine saw a smile cross Matt’s face. Austin shrugged like he could take it or leave it. She gave the limo driver directions to the Brentwood Apartments. When they arrived, the driver came around to open her door.
Christine turned to thank Austin and found herself in his arms with his lips on hers. It happened so fast that she didn’t know how to react. Her door opened and Austin pulled away.
“Um, uh, thank you, um . . .” Christine said.
“Austin,” he said.
“Huh? Right, yes. Austin. Thank you. Sorry, I must be really, um, tired. And thank you, Matt,” she said, reaching to shake his hand.
“You remembered Matt’s name and not mine?”
“Matt didn’t just kiss me.”
“Was that an option?” Matt asked.
Christine blushed.
“I didn’t kiss you either. At least not properly.”
Christine suddenly forgot her own name.
“Next time,” Austin said, his eyes lingering on her lips.
Christine couldn’t think of one thing to say.
She got out of the limo, and before the door closed, she heard Austin say, “That chick is cool as shit.”
She giggled. There were a lot of words people used to describe Christine. Loyal, smart, hardworking, talented—but never, ever, cool as shit. She stood a little taller, liking this new description.
The limo didn’t pull away until she was safely inside.
Once in, Christine turned her phone back on, and the first thing she did was save Austin’s number.
The second thing she did was look at the selfie.
She thanked the selfie fairy for making her look thinner than she was and for keeping her eyes open—and for her hair staying flat for once.
She’d half expected to see Medusa’s snakes making their usual appearance.
She saved the photo and then emailed it to herself to make sure it didn’t get lost. She also thought about the kiss.
For just a brief second, she had a flash of a memory.
Another kiss. A bad one. She shook it off.
She would not let that moment ruin this one.