“God rest her soul,” she volleyed back. “But no, my sweet little smart-ass. It’s you.”
Jamie’s neck jerked back at the timing. The performance was in just over a week. “I thought we weren’t playing until after the album launch?”
“That was until Luke Bennett had to pull out. On vocal rest for six weeks. Shame, I was looking forward to meeting him. Among other things,” she said, smiling wistfully. “Anyway, I called in some favors, and it’s all you, baby.”
“Well, how about that?” Tex howled, slapping his hands together.
Jamie was stunned. Three years ago, he was playing to crowds of a thousand or less. Now, he was set to play for an audience of a hundred thousand. It was cruelly poetic: the deeper the lie about his music became, the bigger his career got. His shame swallowed him. It was an insatiable quicksand, no matter how hard he clawed.
Jamie rubbed his neck. The muscles had seized into one throbbing mass. He forced a smile from the dregs of his soul. “Wow, that’s—thank you.”
“You’re welcome. However, we need to get things movingwith the promoters, including a photo shoot today. We gotta leave right now.”
“Me and your daddy will finalize the set list,” Tex said, rising to meet Jamie’s father at his desk.
“Great,” Jamie offered, still a little dazed as he started toward the door.
“Son—the contract,” Jamie Sr. said. He tapped his pointer finger on the documents. Jamie froze. Regret pricked the back of his neck.
“He’ll sign it tomorrow,” Sammi called from the hallway, yanking Jamie’s bicep. “We’re gonna be late.”
While prepping for a massive, last-minute show wasn’t on his bingo card, he was grateful for the escape route.
Jamie followed and closed the double doors behind him. “Hey, thank you for helping me back there. I?—”
Sammi practically floated down the grand wooden staircase. “Oh, I didn’t do it for you. I don’t want your daddy to start meddling, as he’s wont to do. I like Brinton, and while you’re trying to play your daddy like the radio, I know you do too. I know your tells.”
She paused mid-step and narrowed her eyes. “Is something going on between you and Brinton? As your publicist, I wouldn’t hate it, given how much attention y’all got after the Grammys. Could be good for the album. But also, as your publicist, if there is, I need to know so I can manage it. Or, at least, manage your daddy. I can’t do that if you keep me in the dark.”
There wasn’t exactlynotnothing going on. He’d revealed his deepest secret to Brinton. It hadn’t gone as planned, but he believed Brinton wouldn’t leak it.
And while he trusted Sammi, it’d be easier, for now, to keep her on a need-to-know basis. Right now, there was nothing to know. As for Brinton, he’d keep his promise and go for whatever story angle she wanted.
Then, he’d crawl back into his miserable hole.
“Nothing going on but the article,” he said.
When Jamie slid into the back of Michael’s waiting SUV, his phone buzzed. There were two new texts from Brinton.
Brinton: We need to talk…
Brinton: Somewhere we can be alone. Tomorrow?
She had made her decision. Yet, he needed the closure, even if it was a rusted shovel hollowing him bare.
A little nauseous with trepidation, he turned to Sammi, who watched him skeptically. “I got a favor to ask.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next day, Brinton expected to meet Jamie in a darkened sports bar’s corner booth. The kind of place with sawdust heaped on the floor, local beers on tap, and wall-to-wall TVs, each playing a different full-contact sport. She didn’t expect to be riding shotgun inside a Polaris, idling at the bottom of a steep, rocky hill.
Off-roading was a package deal featuring three more of her anxiety triggers: heights, confined spaces, and, generally speaking, falling off a fucking cliff. Brinton still needed to survive another week-and-a-half in Iris.
Jamie convinced her that this was the perfect cover to speak candidly without intrusion from jilted ex-girlfriends or domineering fathers. Plus, it was great scene-setting for the article.
A fantastic idea until she was strapped inside a glorified Mario Kart.
Gleefully, Jamie revved the engine.
