Chapter 3 #2
I let out a gasp. “Who got the bloody date wrong? Do we need to fly back next week?”
“No, no one screwed up.” He pauses. “You are booked to stay there until next Sunday. You have events and interviews to do all week. It’ll be a great way for you to slowly get used to being back in the public eye.”
“What the fuck, Brendon? I signed a contract for one photo shoot and a concert!”
“Actually, you signed a contract for a week.”
Furiously, I spin on my heel to face Kelly, who looks just as shocked as me. “We agreed to—”
“You can check it if you want. Kelly has the email with the signed contract,” Brendon continues, using his all-business tone.
“You still need to take it slowly and ease back into it. Walk around town and meet some fans. Look like you give a shit about the place. Some good publicity is what you need right now to win back your fans.”
“You fucking lied to me. You know I don’t read all the contract.
You knew that and let me sign it, anyway.
” I want to scream at him, to my whole damn team who have manipulated me into this.
They knew I wanted to spend as little time as possible in this town and they have purposely connived me into being here a whole week.
“I’m not going to stay. I don’t care if I have to fly bloody economy class, I’m not spending a week here!
“If you don’t stay there, you will be in breach of contract.
” Brendon’s tone is stern. “Remember what I said—if you don’t do this concert, you are finished.
No one will ever sign you again.” He sighs.
“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, but you’re there now.
Just do the job, play nice, have a great concert, and get on with it.
Remember the new album you want? This will get it for you. ”
“I am so sick of people telling me what to do. For fuck’s sake, I’m a grown woman.”
“The last time we let you do what you wanted, you ended up in rehab with a reputation for being unstable. We’re trying to help you. I’m trying to help you.”
I want to scream. I hate the lot of them.
Being stuck in Sweetgum Valley is my worst nightmare.
I can’t bear the thought of running into anyone from my past, especially with the constant threat of the press discovering the truth.
The label has worked hard to keep my departure from the town a secret, but what if that all comes crashing down?
Then again, could my reputation really get any worse?
I am already known as a drug addict with two failed marriages under my belt.
I feel like I have hit rock bottom. Is there even room to fall any farther?
“You really think being seen here will be good publicity?”
“We do. Walk around town; do some friendly interviews. Plus, you can practice and prepare for the concert. Make sure your head is in the game.”
A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I realize there is no way out of this situation.
I have to follow Brendon’s advice and play nice, even though the thought scares me.
My future hinges on my ability to do so.
But deep down, I am afraid of what might happen if I let myself fully remember and open up that part of my heart again.
It is a risk I’m not sure I am willing to take.
I hand the phone back to Kelly and she looks at me in apology. “I swear I didn’t know, Bayleigh.”
I had trusted Brendon and not bothered to read the contract myself. I should have and I regret that decision now.
Kelly gives me an apologetic look. “I’m going out to run some errands. We have a dinner to go to tonight, and I need to pick up some things now that we’re staying longer. Why don’t you stay here and have a bath? Maybe meditate?”
She is right—that plan sounds perfect. She understands my needs more than I do myself.
And I have to admit, her stunning hourglass figure and long legs are easy on the eye.
She’s been by my side through the toughest times, and even though she is technically paid to take care of me, we’ve also become good friends.
While she is out, I sit on the floor and meditate to my favorite binaural beats playlist. I picked up a lot of techniques in rehab, and this has been one of the best ways to help me when I am feeling stressed.
Afterwards, I take a long soak in the spa bath and lather myself in the lotion the hotel has provided.
From looking at the label, I know it was made locally, which makes me smile.
This town is more than just crops and beef now.
“Feel better?” Kelly asks when she returns to my room, her hands loaded with bags.
“Much.” I smile at her, definetly more Zen after the self-care regime.
“Good. I got you something.” She holds up her arms. “Actually, I got you lots of things, but this is the one I mean.” She waves a smaller bag at me and I take it from her. Looking inside, I see a cell phone.
“I think you’ve earned it,” Kelly says with a grin.
While I had missed my phone a little, being without one has been kind of freeing. There is no temptation to endlessly scroll or read what the media is saying.
She must see the trepidation going through mind. “Don’t worry—I had them set it up at the shop. There are no apps except your personal email, and you can’t download anything without my permission.”
“So you’re giving me a kids phone?” I grin. I am grateful to not have to deal with the temptation. I could probably still scroll the internet, and that is bad enough.
Kelly wags her finger at me. “It’s for emergencies only.”
I mock salute her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now that’s settled, let me show you what I got!” Kelly says with a cheeky rise of her eyebrows.
* * *
“I hate these dinners.” I sigh as I wash my hands in the restroom.
Kelly hands me some paper towels. “I know you do, but, like Brendon said, its great publicity. Plus, that steak really was good.”
I check my appearance in the mirror. Kelly has organized an entire wardrobe for me now that I am staying longer and haven’t packed enough.
She’s even had my favorite brand of cowgirl boots shipped in by courier.
Kelly is the best assistant and friend I have ever had—she seems to be able to work miracles at a moment’s notice.
Although she hadn’t been able to get me out of this week-long visit.
I resolve to just make the most of it and work on my music. After following Kelly back through the crowded restaurant, I rejoin the group of event organizers at their table. I make sure to smile and nod when appropriate and avoid sharing strong opinions on the topics being discussed.
“Are you excited to spend some time with your family while you’re home?” Julia, the young woman sitting to my left, asks as we sip coffee.
The word home is enough to stop me in my tracks. Sweetgum Valley hasn’t been my home in eighteen years and I sure as hell am not excited about even the possibility of running into my family or any other relation from my past. So I just give Julia a tight smile. “Mm-hmm.”
Finally, Kelly signals dinner is over by standing and helping me into my jacket.
I obligingly shake hands and show my appreciation to everyone for inviting me to the concert and having me for dinner.
As we walk through the restaurant to the exit, I see several people pull out their phones and film me. I plaster on my best smile and wave at a couple of girls who call out, “We love you.”
The noise from the restaurant is soon replaced by the sound of live music as we get out the door. I look around the street to see where it is coming from.
“There’s live music at Monty’s. A local band plays there every Saturday night. The town loves it,” Julia explains, and points to a neon sign a few shops away.
I pause to listen as the band plays a familiar ballad. “That’s country music.”
“Not much demand for anything other than country in Sweetgum Valley,” she says. “Tickets to your show sold out within a few hours of going on sale. Everyone wants to see you and Matthew Butler live, and support a worthy cause, of course.”
Kelly turns to me and in a low voice, says, “We should go in and listen for a while. Brendon would love that. Especially with all the press following.”
I am super-aware of the cameras filming my every move, and Kelly’s suggestion would certainly build my image in a positive way.
“Okay,” I agree, turning and saying good night to my dinner hosts, and then following Kelly.
The sound of the music grows louder as we get closer to the door, and I can distinguish every chord and note from the guitar. A man is singing an old Garth Brooks tune, and the crowd is clapping and joining in on the lyrics. I can’t help but smile at how much the audience seems to be loving it.
As Kelly pushes open the door, we are met with a wall of people crammed into the packed room. Every table is occupied and I only catch a glimpse of the stage amidst the crowd. The scent of beer lingers in the air, almost suffocatingly strong.
As soon as a few members of the crowd spot me, a murmur begins to spread and fingers start pointing in my direction.
People quickly move aside to make room for me to pass, and some even offer their seats at a nearby table.
I smile gratefully and thank them before inviting them to join us.
A waitress appears and asks if I would like a drink, so I request a sweet tea and then turned towards the stage just in time to catch the end of the band’s song.
The lead singer is a handsome man, younger than me, with neatly coiled black hair and a glimmer in his eye that could make any girl weak at the knees.
At the end of the song, he speaks into the mic.
“I see we have a special guest here tonight.” A round of clapping and whistling sounds follow.
I smile and look around at the excited faces.
I have missed this—the appreciation, the love.
I live for my fans and the support they show me.
Suddenly I don’t feel so sick about having to spend the week there.
If I get this kind of welcome everywhere I go, it will be worth it.
“On behalf of everyone in Sweetgum Valley, I would like to welcome you, Bayleigh Gilmore, to town!”
My focus shifts back to the stage, and I am just about to call out my appreciation when my gaze lands on the guitarist next to the singer. He’d had his back to me a moment ago, but now I can make out his features distinctly.
That face.
That hair.
That body.
He may have aged, but time has been kind to him. So very, very kind.
Our eyes meet, and it seems as though no one else exists as I drink him in.
It has been eighteen years and yet my body is still physically reacting to him. Wanting his touch.
He is still here—living in Sweetgum Valley, despite our grand plans to make it in the music industry. Here he is, with that guitar slung over his shoulder and his faded blue jeans, looking sexy as all hell.
Kelly nudges me out of my trance and nods to the stage.
“What?” I ask, having missed whatever the lead singer said.
“He wants you to sing. He’s invited you up.”
“No, I can’t do that.” I shake my head, still spinning from seeing him.
“You can’t say no now. You kinda have to!” Kelly says with that look on her face that said she wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she stands up so I can pass. In the time it takes for me to walk to the stage, I try my hardest to regain my composure.
I can do this. I hope.
“Hi, I’m Frankie,” the singer says to me away from the mic. “We know all your songs. What would you like to sing?”
“You do?” I can’t help liking Frankie and his confidence. Then I turn to see Chase and find him standing in the shadow, watching me.
I name the song and take the mic. “Thank y’all for inviting me to town. I didn’t intend to sing tonight—I just wanted to watch this band.” I wave my hand at Frankie and the other band members. “They sounded real good from outside, so I wanted to come in and join y’all.”
The sound of the crowd’s applause and cheers washes over me, and I feel a sense of relief. The stage has always felt like my sanctuary. Making people laugh and smile is what I was born to do—my true calling in life.
From just behind me, I hear the acoustic guitar intro for my most famous song start, and I know it is Chase. I listen to the way he strums his guitar in that hypnotic way of his.
I begin to sing the heart-wrenching love ballad that won me my first Grammy. As I close my eyes and pour all of my emotion into the lyrics, the room falls silent except for the sound of my voice and his guitar. It feels just like old times, when it was just the two of us making music together.
The sound of drums fills the room, followed by the bass.
Frankie begins to harmonize and I am lost in the music.
The way each instrument complements and elevates the others is perfection.
The lyrics are powerful and the notes flow seamlessly together.
I pour my heart into my performance, and when I finish my final note, I open my eyes to see the audience on their feet, clapping and cheering.
I beam at them, feeling a sense of excitement and joy that I haven’t experienced in years.
I return the mic to Frankie and thank him before making my way back to the table.
Along the way, people stop me to snap photos and ask for autographs as the band resumes playing.
Finally, I reach my seat where Kelly is grinning at me and holding out her phone. “You did amazing!” she exclaims.
The video of my performance plays across the screen, though I can’t hear it over the noise around us. I see myself singing, being swept away in the music. And I see Chase. He doesn’t take his eyes off me the whole song.
Fuck. How am I going to make it through the week knowing he is still in town?
I turn back to the stage and watch him play, but try to avoid direct eye contact. What is he doing these days? Is he in a relationship? Does he still think about me?
Years of unanswered questions swarm in my mind.
The thought of talking to him fills me with fear, but I cannot deny the urge. The girl he once knew is not the same as the one sitting here. I will never be that na?ve and trusting child again.
I finish my drink and tell Kelly I am ready to go. I can feel his gaze on me as we make our way out of the bar, the band’s music fading into the background as his intense stare follows me all the way.