AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Decided to get out of town for a bit, take a little vacation,” I said, the lie rolling easily off my tongue.
“You in the Caymans again?”
Of course he’d suspect something obnoxiously ostentatious like that, because he was used to working with rich, entitled assholes—myself included—who didn’t think twice about hopping a jet to some far-off beach for a little R and R.
“Nope.”
He let out a huff of annoyance. “You’re not going to tell me where you are, are you?”
“Nope,” I repeated simply.
“At least tell me you aren’t shacked up somewhere with some bimbo we’re going to have to pay off after you finish your fuck-a-thon so she doesn’t leak the details to the press.”
My molars ground together so hard it was a wonder they didn’t crack. It really pissed me off whenever Cal lumped me in with his other clients. I hadn’t exactly been a choir boy over the past decade, but I wasn’t nearly as bad as he made me sound. I didn’t run off to private islands to get my dick wet with whatever random woman I picked up at a club or bar.
One time, I’d had a one-night stand with a woman who decided the following morning she wanted a hell of a lot more than I was willing to give her. When I said as much, she decided to exact her revenge by going to a gossip rag and sharing every detail of our night together.
The label had been pissed. I was their token golden boy. The all-American, salt of the earth country boy with a winning smile and a velvet voice. I sang about pride in my country and voiced my support for our troops. I was the human equivalent of apple fucking pie.
They’d cashed in on my wholesome image, but once word got out I preferred to take my women on all fours while I held their hair wrapped around my fist, that illusion had been shattered.
Luckily—depending on how you looked at it—the women liked that combination of wholesome on the streets and dirty as fuck in the bedroom, and my stock went up. The label re-tooled my branding, sexed up my image a little more, and like the stupid fucking idiot I was, I’d gone with it, a big old smile on my face as the money continued to roll in.
Now that the rose-colored glasses were long gone, I realized not a single person had my back. If that scandal had gone in a different direction, they’d have dropped me faster than a malaria-covered sack of flaming shit.
They only gave a damn when I was making them money. That was why they were pushing back so hard on my next album. Why fix something that, in their eyes, wasn’t broken? Stick with the tried and true instead of branching out.
But I couldn’t do it. Not this time. Over the years, I’d lost sight of why I wanted to do this in the first place. I’d let the industry change me. Mold me into what they wanted until I completely lost sight of who I was. My sound had gone from unique and heart-felt to watered-down, feel-good bullshit for the masses.
I hated myself for not seeing it until recently. For not listening to Alma when she tried telling me I was losing sight of who I was and what I wanted. In the end, my ignorance had cost me everything that ever mattered. I could only pray I wasn’t too late to right all my countless wrongs.
I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten as I pulled in a deep breath through my nose. Once I felt like I wouldn’t lose my shit, I spoke. “I’ll call you when I’m back in town. Until then, I need a break.”
“But the label’s expecting to hear some new material from you soon.”
My vision coated red, the sound of my blood pumping through my ears temporarily tuned everything else out.
“Thought I made my feelings clear on what the label wants,” I gritted out.
“Roan.” Cal said my name on a sigh, like he was dealing with a bratty-ass kid. “Be reasonable.”
“Fuck reasonable. You know what? My contract with them is coming to an end soon, so I’m going to take this time to reevaluate my current situation.”
He sputtered through the phone for a good ten seconds before asking, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m no longer sure you or the label are a good fit anymore.”
That was met with even more sputtering. “You—you can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m dead fucking serious. Never liked you much, Cal. Think that’s been pretty obvious. But I put up with you because you were good at your job. But things have changed. Either you get on board with those changes, or find your ass a new client.”
With that, I hung up and tossed the phone onto the mattress, reaching up with my thumb and middle fingers to massage my aching temples.
I was done dealing with his shit. I had other, far more important things going on in my life at the moment, and I was determined to give them all of my time and attention. My life in Nashville wasn’t even on my radar.
In the past, that might have caused me serious anxiety. But now I didn’t mind leaving all that shit behind one damn bit.
5
