Chapter 1
No is a Complete Sentence
? Sparks Fly - Taylor Swift
Present Day
Ruby
The stage lights dim, and the last notes of my biggest hit fade into the background. The reverb from the speakers is drowned out by synchronized chants for an encore.
Somehow, on a stage in front of thousands of fans, I am still utterly alone.
I jog backstage, out of breath and sweating from a combination of the exertion and the fever I’ve been battling for days. One more song and I’m done. I can do this.
I do a quick change and return to my mark. With my acoustic guitar in hand, I take a seat on the black stool center stage. The spotlight illuminates me one last time. The crowd stills, and thousands of wristbands light up the arena as I prepare to sing an unreleased ballad.
“Thank you, Nashville.” I pull the guitar strap over my head and fix my hair that’s caught beneath it.
“I wrote this next song a long time ago with someone who means a lot to me. I’m from a tiny town, not terribly far from here, just across the border in Kentucky.
Nashville will always be the town where my dream came true, but I left a part of my heart on a tailgate back in Oak Ridge. ”
My heartbeat thrums against my ribcage. I take one deep, steadying breath and close my eyes.
Each strum is like muscle memory, the intro playing out like an old friend.
This song has always been a comfort to me when the world felt much bigger than I was.
Now, I’m giving it back to the fans who made me who I am.
This is Ruby stripped down. One stage light, a pair of bell-bottom jeans, a ratty T-shirt that may belong to an ex, and my acoustic guitar. I’ve never felt more at peace.
We were sitting side by side on your open tailgate,
Nothing between us but the night.
Everything about it should’ve felt so wrong,
But nothing ever felt so right.
You whispered words he’d never say,
Laid bare all my fears and doubts.
Found a way to bring me peace, as the last chords faded out.
And when the song was over,
And dusk turned into dawn,
You were Heaven-sent and hellbound,
And I was already gone.
Your fingers brushed mine on that old guitar,
And I swear I felt forever in your touch.
Until reality stepped in and I looked into those eyes,
And saw the truth we’d both been trying to hide.
Your promises were empty,
And I’d always have my doubts.
As long as I was his I’d never find my peace,
so the last chords faded out.
And when the song was over,
And dusk turned into dawn,
You were heaven-sent and hellbound,
And I was already gone.
I loved you anyway,
Tried to keep it to myself.
But I wrote you into every song,
Felt you every single day.
I can’t escape the memories,
Or get back what you stole.
‘Cause you were mine for a little while,
Even though
You whispered words he never said
Laid bare all my fears and doubts.
Still find ways bring me peace, when the last chords fade out.
And when the song is over,
And the stage lights lose their glow,
You’re still Heaven-sent and hellbound,
And I’m the fool who let you go.
A tear slips down my cheek as the last note drags on. I tug out my earpiece and take one last bow, leaning my guitar against the stool and walking off stage.
In the dark corridor behind the stage, an onslaught of dry, rasping coughs assaults me.
I lock eyes with Stacy, my tour manager sent from the very depths of hell.
She’s waiting in the wings with a scowl on her face.
I have half a mind to flip her off, but I’m too exhausted to fight. I duck into my tour bus.
“I thought we agreed that song was too pedestrian,” she says.
I throw my head back and roll my eyes, tossing my cowboy hat onto one of the bench seats and sinking beside it.
Nashville is our last stop before I head home to my empty downtown penthouse apartment, and I don’t have any patience left for Stacy’s attitude.
“I distinctly remember disagreeing with that assessment.”
Stacy looms over me. If I cared enough to look at what I’m certain is her disapproving glare, I’d have to crane my neck, but I’m all out of fucks.
“Whatever, Ruby,” she says. “You can’t just go rogue like that. The label is watching your every move as it is.”
“Of course they are. God forbid their cash cow steps a toe out of line and does something that makes her happy for once.”
Ruby Lynn Hayes: Country Music Darling.
It would be a shame if the headlines reflected the borderline abuse I’ve endured at the hands of my record label, or that I’m supposed to be on vocal rest. My handlers decided finishing the tour was more important than my health.
“You’re under contract, Ruby.”
It was a thinly veiled threat, but I finished the tour and now I’m getting out. My contract with C&L Entertainment is up for renewal, and I have no intention of getting into bed with them ever again.
They locked me down when I was young and naive, coercing me into a predatory deal and dictating damn near every facet of my life, everything from what I wore to what songs made the cut.
There were even a few PR relationships when some struggling actor or artist needed to fix their image with the ‘Country Music Darling.’
“They’re just looking out for you,” Stacy says. “Have you finished those new songs they asked for?”
I huff out an irritated breath. The answer is the same as the last ten times she’s asked me in the past week. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“It’s a complete sentence, Stace. No. I haven’t finished the songs. No, I don't have anything else to give them. No, I don't know when they’ll be done. And no, I’m not signing the contract.”
Well, I guess that last part is out now. No take-backs. Ruby Lynn Hayes is a free agent. The first thing I’m going to do is hop in my truck, put on ‘Man I Feel Like a Woman’ by Shania Twain, and drive my ass back to Oak Ridge.
Liam
She’s wearing my goddamn shirt.