38. 38
Hayes
Now
W hen Rowdy, Bailey, Josh, James, Charlotte, Aiden, and I step out of the chauffeured limo, the camera lights are blinding.
Some album release parties are low-key affairs, but that is not the case for Outlaw’s Alcohol and Orgasms release party.
M&M Records is shelling out big bucks to make this event quite the spectacle.
I even wore my nicest pair of jeans.
I work my way down the line of media, smiling for photographs and answering questions about the album, the band, and our future plans.
Toward the end of the line, I spot Annabelle’s co-worker, Dave.
Country music relies heavily on radio for its success, so radio representatives are treated like VIPs within the industry .
“Dave, good to see you again.” I shake his hand and shoot him a friendly smile. And I hope that my territorial asshole routine outside of his rent house a few weeks ago won’t come back to bite me in the ass.
“You too, Ruston.” Dave drops my hand and tilts his head, assessing me. “Did you bring a date with you tonight?”
“Not tonight, no,” I laugh easily, playing my part, but his question sets me on edge.
It’s obvious that he’s fishing for information.
I don’t want to share anything about Annabelle or our relationship with a member of the press, but I also don’t want Dave to think that we aren’t a couple.
So, I elaborate just a little. “I’m flying solo tonight because she’s not ready to be in the press just yet. ”
Of course, I invited Annabelle, but after we discussed it further, she wasn’t ready to go public, and I don’t blame her.
Her life, and the girls’ lives, will be easier without the interference and scrutiny of the media.
We’ll go public in our own time, and I’d like to control the narrative as much as possible when we do.
What I do not want to happen is for Dave to break the news to the world that I’m dating Annabelle Morris, a widowed mother with two children whose husband worked at my record label. Breaking a story like that could make his career… and make Annabelle’s life much harder.
I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, and I hope that I didn’t just make a mistake by telling Dave what I did.
“Good, I’m glad y’all are keeping things private, for her sake,” Dave smiles. “So, let’s talk about the new album. Any plans for a tour yet?”
And just like that, my opinion of Annabelle’s co-worker shoots through the roof. I still think he may harbor romantic feelings for her, but I respect a man who will set aside his feelings and do what’s best for someone else .
Once I make it inside the venue and have a beer in hand, I take a moment to look around.
The open-concept live music venue is owned by another popular country musician, and it’s decorated like an upscale honkytonk with exposed wooden beams, whiskey barrels that serve as cocktail tables, and neon beer signs that light up the walls of the cavernous space.
The listening session has already started, so the sounds of Alcohol and Orgasms are piped throughout the place. Some attendees are paying close attention to the music, while others stand in small groups quietly chatting and networking.
A release party is both a celebration and a strategic business event to garner publicity for the album.
The people attending tonight include members of the press, record label executives, celebrities, influencers, our fellow labelmates, industry insiders, loyal fans, and contest winners.
Charlotte has coordinated a social media team to promote a branded hashtag campaign, so even inside the venue, there are cameras everywhere as guests post photos and videos from the event all over Instagram and TikTok.
Before someone else drags me into conversation, I sidle up to Rowdy. “Any jitters?”
His head tilts back and forth. “There are always jitters the first time people get to hear the full album. Especially since we have to watch their reactions in real time. You?”
“Same. I don’t mind it so much until I look over at the music journalists sitting at the tables, feverishly jotting down notes. Hope to hell they’re writing down good shit, you know?”
Since Rowdy and I co-wrote the songs on the album, the critics’ opinions matter more to us than they do to Josh and James. I fucking splayed open my heart while writing these lyrics, so it’ll be difficult not to take the reviews personally .
Rowdy laughs. “I feel you, brother.”
“The dude that offered Annabelle his rent house is here. He asked if she was with me tonight.”
Rowdy whistles. “Shit. Is he gonna say anything?”
I shake my head. “Don’t think so. He seemed cool about it. I might even offer him another interview as my way of saying thanks for keeping his mouth shut.”
“Crisis averted.”
“Hope so.”
While Annabelle didn’t want to join me at the public album release party, she accepted my invitation to the private after-party.
It’s ultra-exclusive, basically just the band and close friends.
Zero media presence. My condo building has a private rooftop space we rented for the after-party, so Annabelle and I can dip out easily.
Tonight, the girls are spending the night with Annabelle’s friend, Laura, so Annabelle and I have the condo to ourselves.
I plan to make good use of our time alone because, goddamn, I have missed Annabelle.
Aiden strides over to where we’re standing and slings an arm over Rowdy’s shoulders.
Holding up his beer, he says, “Cheers to another successful album, boys. May it top the charts!” We click our bottles together and shoot the shit for a few minutes before we each get pulled away to talk to other people.
After another ninety minutes, the listening session ends, and it’s time for our set. We’re only playing three songs, the first three singles from the album: Every Now and Then, Room 112, and Heaven.
As I walk onto the stage and grab my guitar, I can’t help but think over the last year and marvel at how much my life has changed since writing these songs.
I wrote many of them from the pits of despair, pissed off at myself for not realizing how precious Annabelle was until she slipped through my fingers.
But knowing what I know now—knowing what Annabelle was grappling with the night we met at Tank’s—I know that we each had to go our separate ways back then.
She wasn’t ready to be in a relationship with me.
She needed to heal and focus on her daughters.
And I needed to mature into a man worthy of her.
Standing on stage tonight, singing the lyrics that flowed through my heart and out my pen, I pretend Annabelle is in the audience listening. And I think I might have just given my best performance of my entire career.