Page 97 of Chasin’s Surrender

Seriously, I loved that he wanted to protect me, but this was something I knew more about than he did. And the reporters would circle like buzzards until I gave them something. And the less they dug and pecked around, the better.

“I need you to trust me about this. You asked me to trust you to take care of me and I agreed. So, now, I’m asking you to trust me. This is only gonna get worse. The good news is, I haven’t been seen around town, so when the paparazzi descend to Cliff City, they won’t get anything. But I have one shot to get this under control, and going live on social media and giving my fans an update will slow it down. It will give them something juicy to chew on, they’ll share the video I upload, they’ll talk about it, and if I do it right, that will become the story. The stalker will become secondary and that’s what we need right now.”

I shook my head. “This is the ugly side. The backstabbing, the media, the lies that killed my dream. Melissa leaked this and then she spun a tale to make me look like a bitch and her the victim. More lies will be told about me. I have to get in front of them, before they consume me.”

Chasin took a moment—a long, angry moment—before he gave in.

“I hate you’re being forced to do something.”

“I know you do. I do, too. But talking to my fans isn’t a hardship. That part feeds my soul. It’s all the rest of it I don’t want. Bobby and Colleen will come up with a plan, but before we move forward, we’ll talk about it and make sure it’s safe from a security standpoint.”

Chasin’s eyes closed and his head bent and our foreheads touched.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for but it felt damn good.

27

Chasin had to admit, Genevieve had been right. Colleen loved the idea of Evie making a statement without it actually being a statement, but more of a tease. A taste of what she was working on. Colleen had come up with some points she wanted Genevieve to touch on while she talked to her fans, and when Chasin, Nixon, and Holden had gone over them, they agreed that disavowing some of the lies Melissa told would pose no security breach.

They’d also decided the best place for Genevieve to do her live video was in front of the old milking parlor. There was nothing that could pinpoint her location, and it was a great backdrop. Even knowing nothing about framing a video, setting a scene, or anything having to do with the music industry, Chasin couldn’t deny that the stage, so to speak, that Bobby had created was badass. She’d called it country cool and she wasn’t wrong.

Micky had come over and worked her voodoo, setting up a proxy so the IP address of the streaming video was coming out of Bangladesh. She also set the video to simultaneously run on all of Genevieve’s social media accounts and YouTube. By the end of the video, none of Genevieve’s fans would miss her message.

“We’re all set,” Micky announced.

Chasin took in the scene around him. The guys had removed the clutter from behind where Genevieve would sit on an old dusty wicker loveseat. They dug it out of one of the barns, and when Chasin had started to wash it down, Genevieve had stopped him, explaining she wanted it dirty and authentic. At least she’d allowed him to dust off most of the cobwebs, but the old rickety piece of furniture looked exactly that—rickety, worn out, and like it had been sitting in a barn for the last year. Which it had been.

That was now sitting in front of the milking parlor, the old Dutch door that Chasin knew Nixon and his dad had built out of scrap lumber they’d repurposed from a barn they’d taken down, was closed. Both top and bottom sections of the split-style door were worn and naturally distressed; any other place they would’ve looked trashy, but there the door ratcheted up the cool factor.

Chasin totally understood Genevieve’s vision of turning the parlor into a studio. If Nixon would sell him the property, he’d make sure every detail she’d imagined was brought to life. And he knew his friend was thinking about it. He’d watched Nix’s expression closely when Bobby had once again enthused about the barn and what it could be, and he’d done it smiling.

“Hey,” Genevieve called, and Chasin’s gaze went from the set-up to the beauty standing next to him.

Something he learned earlier, there was a difference between Vivi Rush meeting with her manager’s assistant and Vivi Rush communing with her fans, even if it was through a screen. And that was, Vivi Rush was Genevieve Ellison. No change in her hair, makeup, or outfit. She was who she was and she gave that goodness to her fans. She didn’t put on a costume and pretend.

Thank God, because Genevieve was the epitome of natural beauty and talent, she didn’t need any add-ons.

“You ready?”

“Yeah. Are you gonna stay and watch?”

“Hell yeah.” He watched as she sank her teeth into her lower lip, and a ball of concern grew in his gut. “That all right?”

“Of course. I’m just nervous.”

“You don’t have to do this, Evie. We can find another way—”

“I’m not nervous about going on. I’m nervous about you watching.”

“Me? Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I want you to like it. I mean, like my music. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, I’m just nervous.”

“I’ve heard you sing,” he reminded her. “And I told you then, but I’ll tell you again, baby, you’re amazing. I’m totally in awe of your talent. I want to listen, but if it’s gonna make you nervous, I’ll leave. Though I’d be disappointed because I seriously loved listening to you the other night and I want to hear more. But this is about you, not me, so it’s up to you.”

“No. I want you to stay. I’m being silly.”