AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But I tour a lot,” I remind us both.
“All the more reason for your permanent home to be where you’re most comfortable. Spend your downtime the way you want to. Think of Nashville as the office.”
I nod slowly, absorbing what she’s saying. I like it. A lot.
“Thanks, Annie.”
“You bet. I’m always a phone call away. Don’t worry so much. Enjoy this beautiful life you’ve created for yourself.”
“A beautiful life that might be falling apart,” I mutter, and Annie scowls.
“Whoa. Back up. That’s not the confident, take-no-prisoners Sidney I’ve known all these years. If this life is what you still want, you take it. Because no one’s going to hand it to you, not even me.”
I blink at her, surprised by the harsh tone in her voice, and realize that she’s absolutely right.
Rather than feeling sorry for myself, I need to square my shoulders and make it happen.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“Sidney, you’re on in ten.”
I nod at the stagehand and set the mostly full drink aside. “I’m off to take back my career.”
“Atta girl.”
Rick offers me a high five as we pass each other behind the stage, and a few minutes later, I’m introduced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my dear friend, Sidney Sterling.”
I walk quickly out on the stage, holding my mic, and wave at the audience that’s just exploded with hoots and hollers and applause.
It makes my heart sing.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say and hug Misty over her guitar. “You having fun?”
“The time of my life.” She winks at me, and we both turn to the audience.
“I just have to say a few words,” I begin with a grin. “I love this woman. Misty and I go way back, singing in honky-tonks and bars here in Nashville.”
“We paid our dues,” Misty agrees with a laugh.
“I’ve toured with her, I’ve sung with her, and there are few people as professional and as kind as Misty is. I’m so incredibly proud to stand on this stage, the stage that every artist in country music holds with the highest respect, to honor you tonight. Now, we might be a couple of good girls, but even good girls…”
I hold the mic up to the audience, and they yell back at us, “Go bad!”
And with that, the band picks up with the music, and Misty and I sing our hearts out, performing for the audience.
This song is upbeat and fun, and it has the crowd dancing, up on their feet.
And when we’re done, and I’m about to leave, Misty stops me.
“Hold up there, girlfriend,” she says into the mic. “Before you go, I’d like to sing one of your songs.”
I feel my eyes widen in surprise. “This night is about you.”
“That’s right, and I want to sing your ‘Life in the Slow Lane’.”
The crowd goes wild. I turn to look at the band, and they’re all smiling and nodding, so I put my earpiece back in and smile.
“You got it, babe.”
The morning after a show like that is always slow-moving. I’m exhausted. We continued to sing for a long time, and Rick joined us, along with the others Misty invited to help her celebrate. Even Garth and Trisha came on stage to play with us. The cocktails poured, the pizza never stopped, and I even managed to eat a bite or two so I didn’t pass out.
We had a blast.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged. I was reminded that country music is my home.
I needed that.
And now, with the light of a new day, even if it is early afternoon, I’m filled with renewed dedication and determination.
It feels like it did when I first came to Nashville, determined to make my way in the industry.
I made it happen before, and I’ll do it again.
I take a couple of hours to take a nice, long shower and relax a little. I eat a salad and some bread and start making notes.
First things first, I need to make a call.
Sitting in my home office, I tap the screen of my phone and smile when I hear Stella’s voice on the other end.
“Hey! We watched the show on the live stream, and, girlfriend, you nailed it. Also, that dress was so fucking hot on you. It made your brother totally grouchy.”
“Good, that was the goal,” I say with a laugh. “Hey, as much as I want to rehash everything about last night—and trust me, we will—I need a favor for now.”
I’m a woman on a damn mission.
“Anything, of course. What’s up?”
“Do you think Leo would be okay with you giving me his number? I need to ask him some questions, and he said that he would be totally fine talking with me, but I don’t have his number.”
“I just texted it to you,” she says, and my phone buzzes with the incoming text. “What else?”
