Chapter One #2
A man came running up to them, grabbed Austin, and steered him toward the front of the arena.
“You’re late,” the guy said.
“Sorry, unavoidable. Chrissy, this is Matt Miller, my tour manager. Matt, this is Chrissy.”
Christine shuddered at the name Chrissy.
“It’s Christine,” she said, looking at Austin. “Please don’t call me Chrissy.”
The name Chrissy brought back the taunts from her high school bullies. Chrissy is a sissy; Chrissy is a sissy. How much time would it take to erase such a horrible memory? So far, it hadn’t been enough.
“Hello, Christine.” Matt stopped walking and shook her hand.
He looked her straight in the eyes. She froze.
His hand was warm and his gaze made her feel at ease.
Time stood still. Everyone disappeared from the room.
Matt seemed familiar, yet she knew she’d never met him.
He was like coming home to a warm fire on a snowy night.
This night was shaping up to be a very good one.
She held on to his hand a little too long.
“Ahem.” Austin cleared his throat.
Christine released Matt.
Matt smiled and the warm feeling spread through Christine’s body.
“Let’s go,” Matt said, ushering them to their seats before returning backstage.
The Bridgestone Arena had twenty thousand seats and was home to concerts and Nashville Predators games.
It also hosted events like Disney on Ice and wrestling.
But tonight, it held the country music video awards.
The floor seats held country music’s top artists and their dates.
Farther back on the floor were industry executives.
The middle tier was a mix of fans and industry people, and the upper tier was almost all fans.
They screamed loudly each time they recognized a favorite artist.
The countdown to the show had started. The emcee was at T minus forty-five seconds.
Christine looked around. She’d never been this close to so many artists at once.
From A-list artists in cowboy hats and bell-bottom pants, to newcomers, every artist was on display.
Christine watched them casually chat with each other, just like normal people, and wondered what millionaire singers talked about.
“Look at me and smile,” Austin said when they were seated.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” he said in a firm voice.
She did.
“Okay. Just checking that you don’t have anything in your teeth.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because you’re probably going to have a close-up on TV, and it would help if you didn’t have broccoli in your teeth.”
“I don’t want to be on TV. I’m a behind-the-scenes kind of person,” she said, looking around at all the cameras. Some hung from the rafters, others were attached to camera operators, and still more were on cables moving around the arena.
“Too late. Smile.”
She looked up. Her face was magnified a gazillion times on the giant screens gracing both sides of the stage. She and Austin gave big camera-ready smiles.
He leaned into her and said, “Don’t look up. We forgot to check your nose for boogies.”
She broke up laughing, and the cameras cut to someone else.
“You made me laugh on national television. Nobody looks good with their mouth wide open.”
“It looked cute. Chicks dig cute. It’s all about the press, baby.”
The hosts kicked off the show with witty banter, and then it was time for a commercial break.
Christine’s phone vibrated in her purse, so she pulled it out.
Her friends were texting simultaneously.
She visualized them, decked out in their formal wear, sitting high up in the bleachers somewhere.
Julianna with her straight blonde hair and legs up to her neck.
And Phoebe, who was stunning to look at with her jet-black hair and blue eyes but had a very difficult personality.
Julianna: OMG! Is that you sitting next to Austin Garrett?
Phoebe: How in the hell did you end up sitting next to the country stud?
“What are you doing?” Austin asked.
“Texting. My friends saw me on TV.”
“You don’t text in the second row. You text in row one twenty, not row two.”
“I usually sit in row three-zero-two,” she said, pointing to the back of the arena.
“Not tonight. Gotta shut it off.”
She texted, Long story. Will explain later. Gotta go. Not allowed to text down here.
She shut her phone off and glanced at the people around her—singers and actors sitting within feet of her. This was her Cinderella moment.
“Next commercial break, I have to go backstage. Everyone up for Breakthrough Video gets to sing a minute of their song.”
“A whole minute? Wow, you’ve hit the big time,” Christine said, giving an awkward chuckle before realizing he might not appreciate her sarcasm.
“I like you. You’re funny.” Just then, the commercial break started and a guy with a headpiece gestured for Austin to join him. “I’ve gotta go. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” He found her funny. She liked that. Christine had a reputation for being too serious and was often told to lighten up. Tonight, she was funny.
Austin took off, and a college-age kid promptly nabbed his seat.
“Excuse me, that’s Austin Garrett’s seat,” she said.
“I know.”
“Ah, you’re a seat filler. Empty seats do make for bad television.”
The kid grunted a response.
Christine wanted to give herself the proverbial pinch. She was actually sitting next to someone designed to keep floor-level seats from being empty. She usually sat so high up that nobody cared when seats went empty.
“Do you get paid for this? Sweet gig.”
His brow furrowed. He shook his head and turned away.
The commercial break ended and the cameras came back up on Austin.
Onstage, he looked even more striking with his long legs, muscular torso, and strong arms. He had some seriously toned arms. He sang an excerpt from “Promises to Me,” stripped down with only an acoustic guitar for accompaniment.
It was a song about heartbreak, someone making promises they didn’t keep.
The subject wasn’t anything new. But the lyrics had spoken to her: “You promised me, only to lie. What happened to, until we die? Even apart, I’m still not free.
I can’t let go of your promises to me.” You’d expect the song to be from a woman to a man, which is why she’d thought of Austin when she first heard it.
With his raw-sounding voice and manly exterior, it would be unexpected and heartfelt.
Now he was onstage singing it. Her heart skipped and her hands flew to her chest. She’d found this song for him.
Without her, he wouldn’t be singing it, right now, for millions of people all over the country.
Pride surged through her for both of them.
For only having one minute, he nailed it. He pointed to her from the stage and gave a thumbs-up. The camera panned back to her face and there she was on the giant screens, beaming at him.
Austin stayed backstage while they announced the winner.
Christine held her breath.
He lost. The camera panned to him as he gave a high five to the winner, followed by a hug. He’s a gracious loser , she thought.
“Maybe he is smarter than everyone thinks,” she said.
“Who?” the seat filler asked.
“Never mind.”
During the next commercial break, Austin returned to his seat.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t expect to win. That guy’s been out way longer than me. But next year, the award is mine.” He nudged her with his shoulder and she nudged back.
The rest of the show went by in a blur of awards.
Christine was so awestruck after George Strait walked past her to get his Performance of the Year Award that her thought process shut down.
She couldn’t repeat the name of one other winner.
She focused on not fidgeting, making sure she sat correctly, and not doing anything embarrassing when the camera panned past her.
Her face hurt from smiling. The last thing she wanted was to be caught on camera with resting bitch face.
When it was over, she stood with Austin as he back-patted his fellow artists.
Amidst the biggest stars in the country scene, Christine felt awkward and wanted to bolt.
But Austin kept reaching back for her like she was an appendage he couldn’t forget.
They made their way backstage where Matt was waiting.
“Limo’s out back. Ready for the after-party?” Matt asked.
“Sure. Is the band coming?” Austin asked.
“They’re waiting outside,” Matt said.
Christine wanted to gracefully make her exit. These parties often had a preapproved guest list, and her name would not be on it. She didn’t want Austin to have to politely explain that she couldn’t go with them.
“I’m going to call an Uber. Thanks so much for this amazing night.” She turned to shake Austin’s hand. His smile faded and he squinted his eyes.
“You don’t want to go to the party?” he asked.
“Oh, well, I can. I mean, sure. Why not?” She wondered if that was even a coherent sentence.
“Is that a yes? It was hard to tell.”
“Yes. Of course, yes.”
“Then let’s go,” Matt said, leading them out the back door to a waiting limo. She saw a group of people near one of the limos, and Austin told her it was his band.
“Hey, everyone. Meet Chrissy, my song plugger. Chrissy, this is the most awesome band and crew in all of Nashville,” Austin said.
Christine smiled. “It’s Christine. Nice to meet you.”
“This is Cat, my guitar player; Kennedy, on bass; and Red, my drummer.” Christine shook hands with each of them. “And this is Alicia,” Austin said, putting his arm around a young woman. “Best merch person ever.” Alicia blushed.