CHAPTER 7 #2
She groaned, recalling the agony of working with Clayton. His dad jokes were absolutely infuriating. “It’s a bit more rock now, but unfortunately it’s still a country song.”
“Hello, Nashville is primarily a country audience.”
Jamie turned her head. “What?”
Ruth glanced at her phone. “There’s an interview after your performance, James. They might ask why you’ve”—she made air quotes—“gone country.”
“What interview?”
Her assistant shared her screen. “Shelby and Cybill from the show asked for a sit-down. They’re the hosts in case you didn’t know.”
Jamie leaned back in her seat. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She turned to Ruth, unamused. “I know nothing about country music besides Dolly Parton.”
“I do.” Her assistant held up her hand. “I grew up on country music.”
“You poor thing, you.”
At the television station Jamie sat in a salon chair while Ruth hovered nearby. Jamie watched as Candy, a makeup artist, applied primer, foundation, and powder to her face with various brushes. The result looked airbrushed, as if she’d been perfectly drawn.
“Just a little more mascara,” Candy said, twirling her lashes with the wand. “Are you sure you don’t want fake ones?” The makeup artist had a thick Southern accent.
Jamie startled, glancing at her flat chest, then realized Candy was talking about her eyelashes. She smiled at her reflection. “I’m good, thanks.”
“What’s he like?” Candy asked, grinning widely. “Give me the goss.”
“Who?” Jamie had no idea who she was talking about.
“Clayton Langley.” The makeup artist rolled her eyes. “Who do you think? ”
Jamie shrugged one shoulder, not wanting to discuss it. “He’s okay I guess.”
“Just okay?” Candy, now doubling as a hair stylist, curled her waves into ringlets she didn’t ask for, or want. “He’s the hottest guy in Nashville. And he’s single.”
“You should see his brother,” Jamie stated matter-of-factly.
Ruth glanced up from her phone. “He’s got a brother? Is he single?”
“I think so.” Jamie nodded as much as the curling iron would permit. “I mean, that’s the impression I got.”
“Introduce me?” Ruth asked, wrapping her gum in foil before tossing it into the trash can. She hadn’t dated anyone since her high school boyfriend had dumped her during his first year of college.
Jamie glanced at her assistant. “His handshake was weak.”
“I don’t care,” Ruth said breezily. “I want someone gentle and kind.”
“Yawn.” Jamie covered her mouth with one hand.
“What’s his name?” her assistant asked.
“I’m terrible with names,” she said, touching her forehead as she tried to remember. “Ryan? No, that’s not it . . . Nolan.” She snapped her fingers. “He’s a vet. As in a veterinarian, not a military person.”
“I love animals!” Ruth exclaimed. “What’s he like?”
“Nice. Oh, and he doesn’t have much of an accent. Clayton told me he went to school out of state. Somewhere up north—”
“Back to Clayton,” Candy said, teasing her hair to the heavens. “Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
“Beats me.” Jamie crossed her legs, one boot dangling, annoyed by the line of questioning. “Besides, he’s really annoying.”
“I don’t think he’s had a girlfriend since Tammy.” Ruth was always in the know, thanks to her tabloid habit. She bought them at grocery store checkouts and made Jamie listen to the latest gossip, whether she wanted to or not.
“Tammy.” Candy jutted out her curvy hip, which Jamie would have killed for. “I used to do her makeup. The nicest thing about that woman is her hair.” She raised her free hand. “Bible.”
Ruth unwrapped another stick of gum. “I’ve heard that too. Some people from back home got to know her when she lived in Oklahoma with her first husband. Apparently she’s pretty hard to deal with.”
“What do you mean?” Jamie didn’t care about Clayton’s ex-wife, but she needed some ammunition in case he made fun of her. “Didn’t they used to call her America’s country sweetheart?”
“Sourpuss is more like it.” Candy shook a bottle of hairspray—maximum hold—and pressed the nozzle.
“No!” Jamie ducked away from the mist. “I don’t need any more product.”
Candy laughed. “Girl, you’re in Nashville.”
A few minutes later Jamie and Clayton stepped onto the stage. She insisted on using a separate microphone to avoid any potential nostril shots, with him towering over her. They both played guitar—rhythm and lead—and alternated the verses on “I Did a Good Job of Drinking.”
When the song ended the studio audience applauded, and a few women held up signs that read will you marry me and i love you clayton .
It was enough for Jamie to throw up in her mouth a little.
Shelby and Cybill waved to them, and they crossed the stage.
The hosts styled their bottle-blond hair in large, soft curls, and their makeup was applied in an impasto style.
Clayton gestured for Jamie to sit beside the hosts, so she settled on the couch and turned away from him, as she preferred.
“Happy new year!” Clayton greeted the hosts, and Jamie cringed.
“Jamie Keaton,” the host closest to her said. “This is your first time on Hello Nashville.”
“Yes, it is.” She wasn’t sure which woman was which. “Thanks for having me.”
The same woman gave her a fake grin then turned to Clayton and batted her glued-on eyelashes at him. “You haven’t been here in how many years . . . four?”
“Now Shelby,” Clayton said, “you should’ve invited me.”
Cybill, the other host, fanned herself with a stack of notes. “You don’t need an invitation, now honey. You’re always welcome.”
Ugh. These women.
“Tell us about the song.” Shelby bent forward, her frilly white blouse revealing her cleavage. “It’s going viral.”
“I had the words—” Jamie started to explain.
“And I asked her to co-write,” Clayton interrupted.
Jamie turned her head sharply and frowned at him. She was more than capable of sharing the origin story. She didn’t need Old Hickory to mansplain it.
“We were in the studio working on our albums,” he continued. “I had the music and Jamie here”—Clayton touched her knee with his mitt and she jumped back in her seat—“penned the lyrics.”
Get your hand off me.
He continued, “The song’s about New Year’s Eve.”
The hosts exchanged glances, and then Shelby blurted, “Everyone saw the picture!” Her breasts were an inch from Jamie’s face as she gestured forcefully with her finger. “Is something happening here? ”
“Nothing,” Jamie said coldly, feeling embarrassed. In what other line of work was it acceptable to put up with this? Her personal life was no one’s business.
“A kiss at midnight.” Clayton winked at the rock star. “That ain’t nothin’.”
The audience rumbled with laughter and groans as she hatched a new plan: murder for hire.
“So how does that work?” Cybill asked. “Will it be on both of your albums?”
Clayton let out a low chuckle. “Shoot, that song’s too country for Jamie Keaton.”
That caught her off guard since nothing had been set in stone.
He went on, “It’s going to be on my next album, and come tour time every single soul in the audience will be my guest right here in Nashville.”
The women in the audience cheered as if it were an Oprah show during Christmas, and the studio was filled with applause.
Jamie glared at Shorty, standing stage left. He shrugged, tipped his cowboy hat, and gestured for her to ignore it.
“Will you be joining Clayton on his tour?” Shelby pressed the rock star.
“No—”
“I haven’t asked her yet.” He stared at Jamie and her palms started to sweat. “What do you say, darlin’?”
I can’t refuse on television!
Jamie gazed into the camera, her teeth clenched. “I’d love to, Clayton.”
“I’m so mad right now,” Jamie said as she climbed into the car, her hands trembling as she fumbled with her seat belt. She still couldn’t believe what had happened.
Ruth slid in beside her and told the driver to take them to the studio, where Jamie was about to sing the song that now felt like a cruel joke.
Jamie stared out the window, her pulse hammering.
“Why would he do that? And on live television?” She exhaled sharply, counting the number of pickup trucks on the road, suddenly understanding why they inspired so many country songs.
“He screwed me over, Ruth. There’s no way I’m going on tour with him. ”
Ruth hesitated then reached out, gently squeezing her shoulder—the only person who could touch Jamie without setting her on edge. “I think he was trying to help.”
“I don’t need help from any man, especially Clayton Langley.”
“You should look at this.” Ruth showed Jamie her phone but she waved it away, uninterested in the latest gossip about her and Clayton.
“Whatever it is, I don’t care,” Jamie said. “I’ve been trying to write this song for thirteen years, and in just one day he turned it into some country ditty. It was supposed to be a rock anthem, for your information.”
“Uh-oh.” Ruth’s eyes were glued to her screen. “We’ve got a problem, Houston.” Jamie turned her head slowly and her assistant said, “Some of the tweets are . . .” She looked up from her phone. “Unflattering.”
“People are mean.” Jamie slumped into her seat, not bothered by it in the least. “I’m used to it from being on reality television.”
“There’s a threat from a woman, Memphis Girl, who says you’re dead if you sing with Clayton again.”
“See, someone’s on my side!” Jamie laughed as her assistant frowned. She wasn’t about to let an internet troll scare her, although it baffled her why someone would be obsessed with Clayton .
“It’s not funny.” Ruth chewed her gum. “I’ll block her, but we have to report it.”
“No one’s going to kill me over Clayton Langley.”
“It’s for your insurance,” Ruth told her. “As a precaution.”
“Fine.” Jamie crunched her hair into a bun. It felt like a rat’s nest from the hairspray, minus the twigs and rocks. “Hey, did Derrick say anything when you saw him? I’m kind of surprised he’s not freaking out about this video.”
Ruth’s nose twitched as she put her phone down. “He said you guys are never getting back together, James.” The rock star smirked and her assistant said, “He mentioned something about you using Clayton to get back at him.”
“The funny thing is”—Jamie moistened her lips—“I didn’t plan on making him jealous.”
But I’m sure I did.