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“You lie so easily that a man might believe you, Callie.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Mitch.”
He studies my face, shaking his head. “Fuck, maybe you’re just that good at lying to yourself.” He pushes me away. I stumble back against the entrance table as he stomps out. The door slams so loudly that the sound echoes, causing my heart to stutter in my chest.
I sink to the floor, and I know I can’t stay. I can’t live with Mitch if he’s not willing to try. Katie and Reed were both right. Maybe my father is right, and I’m just not worth the effort…
I’d ask him, but he and my mother are no longer a part of my life. They disowned me when they discovered I was pregnant—but not before my father telling me exactly how he felt about me…
Of course, he was never my father, not by blood. My parents never realized I knew the truth. There didn’t seem much point in confronting them.
It takes me twenty minutes to get myself under control. When I do, I pack my bags. I look around my house—the house, I’ve worked my ass to keep, and I realize there’s nothing here I want. Not one thing.
Except….
I go back into the room I’ve been sleeping in and grab the framed picture that I keep on my dresser. The last sonogram of my Ryan… Katie had it framed for me right before I lost him. Back then, I thought I’d have a million pictures of Ryan living his best life.
Now it’s all I have…
CHAPTER 9
Reed
“Dude! You were on fire! I think that’s your best show yet,” Jake says, slapping me on the back.
“It felt good. Hopefully, it gets the King’s attention,” I respond, sitting down at the bar.
“It will! You’re the best thing this damn bar has seen,” Jake says, taking another drink.
“He’s not wrong,” the sexy blonde bartender says, smiling at me. Fuck, she’s hot. She’s got long blonde hair that’s pulled up high on the top of her head in a ponytail. She’s wearing a black leather corset and matching black leather pants. She’s like a fantasy—a dream. A wet one.
“Is that a fact?” I ask with a smirk, leaning in to let my eyes move over her body.
“What can I get you, cowboy?” she asks.
“Your name and number,” I respond, and she throws her head back laughing—not quite the reaction a man wants, but I must admit I do love the sound of her laughter.
“That was smooth,” she says, studying me.
“I do try.”
“I just bet,” she says with a smirk. “My name is Juniper, although I’m afraid I’m not on the market. I got a man.”
“Just my fucking luck. I guess I’ll take a beer. Whatever you got. I’m not choosey, except in guitars and women,” I respond. She shakes her head but gets my beer and puts it down.
“Here ya go.”
“This man of yours have a name, or better yet, is he on his death bed, and you’re waiting until they pull the plug before giving another man a try?”
“Jesus, you are bad.”
“I can be really bad, sweetheart. I’d be glad to show you.”
“Drink your beer and cool yourself down,” she laughs. “The boyfriend’s name is Greg. He’s part of the house band that was backing you up,” she says.
“Punkin’, get me a drink, will you?”
“Punkin?” I ask, scrunching up my nose. If I had a hot woman like that warming up my bed, that’d be the last thing I’d call her.
“A nickname that only he can get away with,” she laughs right before the man leans over the bar, giving her a quick kiss. I recognize him as the guitar player that was on stage with me. He’s damn good at it, I have to admit that—albeit grudgingly. “Cowboy, meet my boyfriend, Greg,” she says, and I turn to look at him.
“Nice playing up there. You definitely know how to pick,” I tell him, glancing one last time at the blonde. “Especially women, apparently,” I add, rewarded with her laughter again.
“You can say that again,” Greg laughs good-naturedly. “That was a great set up there, man. I really enjoyed it. You’re the best that’s come through the doors in a long time.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“My boy is the best. He’s going places,” Jake says, joining in. He’s a bit buzzed. He won his category tonight and has been celebrating a little heavily.
“He just might. I heard King Records was in the crowd,” Juniper confirms.
“Yeah, but if they don’t bite, you make sure you come back here next Saturday. Punkin’ here,” Greg adds, motioning towards the blonde, “can get you a slot. The owners here love her.”
“What’s so special about next Saturday?” I ask.
“Trisha Marks will be here. She’s a big-time agent who loves signing new talent. You get with her, and your worries are over.”
