Chapter Two #3
He rolled his head to the side, blew her a kiss, and promptly started snoring.
She drove to her building, woke him up, and helped him into her apartment. He sauntered in, went straight to the bathroom, then weaved his way into her bedroom and passed out on her bed.
“Oh no you don’t. Uh-uh. You get the spare bedroom. Austin. Austin. Austin Garrett.” She reached out and tapped him. Then she shook him with one hand. Then she used both hands to shake the mattress.
Nothing. No response. He was gone.
“Damn it.” She gave up trying to wake him and went to the spare bedroom.
How had it happened that Austin Garrett was asleep in her bed?
Or that he was in her home at all? Her friends would love this story.
If she told them. It was hardly romantic to save him from the clutches of a crazy woman.
She was irritated that he thought it was okay to call her, a virtual stranger, to come save him.
And that he’d taken her bed. She forced herself to calm down so she could fall asleep.
When her alarm went off at 7:00 a.m., she snuck into her room and grabbed some clothes. She paused to look at Austin, peacefully sleeping. He was so handsome, even after a night of debauchery.
She showered and left with a quick note: Coffee in the machine. Just turn it on. Help yourself to any food you can find. Ciao.
On the drive to work, she obsessed over her use of the word “ciao.” What was she? Italian? Why had she written “ciao”? She felt like an idiot.
When she got to work, she didn’t say anything to anyone.
It wasn’t as if he’d called her while he was sober and asked her out to dinner.
She kept her mouth shut and turned her phone off for her morning listening meetings so she could give her full attention to every song.
She hoped she’d find a song for Austin that would be so big he couldn’t help but agree to record it, release it to radio, and make it a hit.
It had to be different, yet authentic to him.
He could get rousing party songs from anyone, but she wanted to dig deeper.
He had so much potential to go bluesy, do more ballads, and even do classic country.
But after eight songs that sounded like the party songs he’d already recorded, there was nothing left.
Every time she hit PLAY on a new song, she hoped it would be a career-changing hit for an artist. They were few and far between, but when you found one, the high was better than any street drug.
Those moments reminded her why she’d chosen this job.
This was not one of those moments. And she needed it to be, more than ever, after what Rick had said.
Frustrated, she removed her headphones and took a break. When she turned her phone back on, her texts blew up.
9:45 a.m.: Hey, Chrissy. It’s Austin. How do you work the coffee machine?
“Really?” she said aloud.
10:10 a.m.: Hey, Chrissy. This is great shampoo. Where do you get it?
She thought, He was in my shower?
10:35 a.m.: Hey, Chrissy. I can’t figure out your remotes. Which one turns on the TV?
11:10 a.m.: Hey, Chrissy. I figured out the remote. Thanks for your help. Ha-ha.
11:30 a.m.: Hey, Chrissy. Can you run out and buy me some pants? I’m a 32 waist, 34 long.
11:50 a.m.: Hey, Chrissy. I rummaged through your drawers, not your panty drawer cause that would be creepy. But I found some big sweatpants and they kind of fit me. I’m dressed enough to head home. Thanks for your help. See ya around.
“I have no words,” Christine said to herself.
“No words for what?” Julianna asked from the doorway to Christine’s office. She wore a miniskirt, off-the-shoulder shirt, and high heels. Only in the entertainment industry was that standard business attire. She sat on the spare chair and put her long legs up on Christine’s desk.
“So how’s our rising star?”
“Our rising star?”
“Yours, mine, ours. We’re friends. One for all and all for one, right?”
“Uh-huh? Whatcha need?” Christine put her pen behind her ear and sat back.
“Feel like ordering a pizza tonight?”
“Sure. My place? If you’re willing to slum it.”
Julianna winced. “Your place is not a slum.”
“It’s nothing like the condo you live in.”
“At least you pay for it yourself. I still live off Daddy’s money. Anyway, your place works fine for me. See you around six,” Julianna said, walking back out.
JULIANNA SHOWED UP WITH TWO small pizzas and a bottle of wine. They sat in the living room, choosing the couch over the dining room table. Christine got up to get a napkin and her phone chimed in a text. When she returned, Julianna was holding the phone up and pointing it at her.
“Is A.G. Austin?”
Christine looked at the text displayed on the screen, which read, Thanks again for last night. Waiting for you to find me a new hit. Don’t take too long.
“Yep, that would be him.”
“What happened last night?” Julianna said, sitting upright, her eyes wide.
“Nothing, really. He got locked out of his car near my apartment and needed a place to crash. It was three in the morning, so I went and picked him up and let him stay for the rest of the night at my place.” Christine took a sip of her tea like this was no big deal.
“And you didn’t call me?”
“For what?”
“I’d have come right over,” Julianna said, her voice husky.
“For what possible reason?” Christine asked.
“What do you think?” Julianna asked.
“It wasn’t a booty call, Julianna.”
“It could have been,” Julianna said, and then she scrunched her eyebrows. “Unless you’ve called dibs. Have you called dibsies?”
Christine shook her head as her phone chimed again.
Julianna grabbed her phone to see the text message: Hey, Chrissy. I wrote a new song and want your opinion. I’ll send it to you tonight if you have time.
“He calls you Chrissy? You hate Chrissy. Nobody calls you that. You insist on Christine.”
Christine rolled her eyes. “I’ve asked him not to, but he doesn’t listen.”
“How can you be so calm? Text him back!” Julianna was salivating.
“I will.” Christine was playing it cool. “If you’ll give me my phone back.”
Christine took her phone and texted Austin: Okay.
Send it. She paused, not sure if she should tell him she’d found some songs for him, too.
She didn’t want to be pushy, but she couldn’t save the company with songs he wrote himself.
It had to be songs from her company’s songwriters.
This added stress was going to drive her crazy. She decided not to push anything yet.
“So, have you?” Julianna asked.
“Have I what?” Christine was so deep in thought about songs she forgot the question.
“Called dibs. And it’s not just me asking. It’s driving Phoebe crazy that people are talking about you and Austin. She thought she’d be the one to land a singer.”
“What is this? High school? She needs to chill. I’ve never understood how someone as nice as you can be besties with her. Don’t you find her cold?”
“I’ve never told you the story?”
Christine shook her head. “You just said you’d met in college and she always had your back.”
“My first day at college I had some girls being rude to me in the café line. They were making nasty comments about how short my skirt was. And it was short. But come on—I was eighteen. I tried not to listen, but it’s hard to ignore words like ‘slut.’ Then I heard another girl say, ‘Excuse me, but I’m going to cut in front of you now.
You’re welcome to bash my clothing all you want.
And for the record, I own the word “slut.”’ It was Phoebe.
She told me I needed to pledge her sorority and she’d be my big sister and protect me from nasty people.
I commented on how nice she was and she said, ‘Make no mistake. I’m not nice.
But I’m fiercely loyal to my friends, and when you need it the most, I’ll have your back. ’ And she always has.”
“I can’t argue with that. And to answer your question, no, I haven’t called dibs.”
“Why aren’t you interested? He obviously is.”
“No, he isn’t,” Christine said.
“CMT night, he invited you to his house.” Julianna sat back and crossed her arms.
“I was the only woman in the car. Of course I’d win.”
“He called you when he needed help.”
“He’d been with another woman. He was escaping. Although he doesn’t seem the type who would be bothered by multiple women in one night.” Christine put her finger in her mouth and faked puking.
“What if he is interested? Will you go for it?” Julianna leaned forward, rubbing her hands together.
Christine shook her head.
“Why not? You never date. At all. Anyone.”
“Pot, kettle. I don’t see you with a guy right now. We both know this town sucks for finding men. Even waiters and Uber drivers are trying to be singers, songwriters, or musicians. And I don’t really want to date any of those.”
“But you have a chance with Austin Garrett,” Julianna said, throwing her hands up.
“I have a chance to ruin a great business opportunity. Bad move.”
“Why do you always have to be so in control?” Julianna asked.
Christine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Because it’s the only way I feel safe.”
“Safety is sometimes overrated,” Julianna said.
“Not to me.” Christine stood and took their plates to the kitchen.
Julianna followed. She leaned against the kitchen cabinet and stared at Christine. “I know you had a bad experience in high school that you never want to talk about. And I respect that. I really do. But it’s been more than a decade. Maybe talking would help.”
Christine threw her head back and looked at the ceiling before looking at Julianna.
“A couple of guys, big guys, harassed me one night. One of them, well . . . he was very aggressive.” Christine turned away and washed her hands, trying to stall so she could think about how to word what had happened.
“Aggressive how?” Julianna asked, touching Christine’s shoulder and turning her back around.