Girl With Guitar (20 page)

“H
ope
you’re enjoying your birthday, Kylie, but I need you to meet me bright and early tomorrow at the studio so we can talk,” her manager informed her.

Geez, what was with all the early morning meetings?

“Okay. I’m about to take my friends to the airport then head home to get some rest. See you at eight?” No need to mentioned the junk food fest they were about to have. She stuck her arm out to hail a cab but someone else snagged it before the girls could catch up to where it had stopped.

“Your session starts at eight. Come a few minutes early so we can chat.”

Kylie said goodbye to her manager, and Lulu put her arm around her as they waited for another cab. “For what it’s worth, he looked a hell of a lot more interested in you than the leggy brunette.”

Kylie just shrugged. He tried to talk to her this morning and she’d messed it up. And then he’d moved on at breakneck speed. It hurt. Damn, did it hurt. But she had made a promise to her daddy and vowed to keep it. So she would. Music came first. Trace Corbin obviously didn’t want anything more from her anyways. Somehow, some way, she’d figure out the necessary procedure for extracting her memories of Trace from her passion for music. She had a feeling she might need habit-forming narcotics afterwards.

After seeing Lulu and Carmen off to the airport a few hours later, Kylie returned home feeling…lonely. And confused. What the hell had happened with Trace tonight? Why had he brought Mia Montgomery to her party? Surely he had enough sense to know that would be hurtful. Kicking off her heels and slipping out of her dress, she flopped down on her bed. Trying to figure out why Trace Corbin did anything was exhausting.

K
ylie
walked into Bluebird Studios with her head held high and battling the urge to fidget with everything she was worth. Her manager was going to tell her one of two things. Either she’d been chosen to fill the available space on The Random Road Trip tour or she hadn’t.

If the answer was no, she’d have to find a way to keep money coming in so she’d have enough to cover the additional studio time she’d need to record a demo. She didn’t regret giving the extra money she’d had to Tonya, but she was worried about how slowly things were moving now. If the answer today was no, Chaz had some contacts at local venues and had mentioned getting her a few gigs soon. She used this information to comfort herself as the pretty redhead at the front desk gave her directions to Studio D, where she was recording today.

The painful fact that staying in Nashville would probably mean running in to him nagged at her as she made her way through the halls. Not just him—him and his new girlfriend—and God, Kylie really didn’t know if her heart could take much more of that. Pushing the door open, she was greeted by a plush lounge area next to a high tech sound booth. Chaz and two other guys stood in the lounge area and stopped their conversation when she entered.

“There she is. Kylie Ryans, this is Brent Cursh and Matt Lane. They’re the studio sound guys who’ll be helping us out today.” Chaz nodded to each of them as he spoke.

The skinny redhead didn’t look to be much older than she was, but the heavy set man with a receding hair line and kind eyes looked about Clive’s age.

Kylie smiled at them both, grateful to have people willing to help her. This side of making music she had no clue about. “Morning. Nice to meet y’all.”

After they all shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, the two sound guys excused themselves so she and Chaz could speak privately. She wished she’d had the foresight to bring everyone coffee to show her gratitude. But her body was already amped up and trembling with anticipation as it was. Kylie’s nerves were getting the best of her and she hoped the guys hadn’t noticed her sweaty palms.

“Chaz, I’m dying here.”

“Okay, so are you ready for this?” His eyes were bright behind his rectangular frames. She tried to read his expression to determine if it was good news or bad news.

“Um, I think so.”

“So at first, I got a firm no. Not because they didn’t like you—they did. But with the negative publicity from your stepmom’s craziness and the situation with Trace, they were going to go with a different girl.”

Disappointment tugged at Kylie’s heart but she didn’t interrupt.

“So I asked them what could change the no into a yes. A friend of mine who happens to be engaged to a Vitamin Water exec said that if you had a hit single, or even a remotely popular single out, then they would’ve chosen you.”

“But I don’t,” Kylie reminded him quietly.

“Right, not yet. But I remembered you mentioning that you and Trace had written a song together on the road the night we met, and I passed that information along to my friend. She said that just having recorded a song with Trace Corbin would be enough to put you in front of the other chick, even if the song isn’t getting radio play yet. Soo…long story short, we get our asses in gear and record your vocals for that song you wrote. Then I’ll talk to Trace’s people and we’ll get his vocals and ta da—off on tour you go!”

Oh this was bad. This was very bad. The walls of Kylie’s world softened and threatened to cave in on her. “Um, Chaz? I can’t record that song.” She could barely remember even telling him about it that night in South Carolina. But she had been trying to impress him so he’d take her on as a client.

“Look Kylie, I’m not blind. Or deaf. I hear things. I know you and Mr. Corbin had a little fling on the road and that it might be difficult. But it’s not like you have to marry him. You just have to—”

“No, Chaz. I mean I
can’t
. As in legally, I can’t. Because I signed papers yesterday saying that I wouldn’t.” Jesus. Yesterday had been the longest damn day of her life.

For a moment, Kylie worried her apparently healthy thirty-three year old manager was having a heart attack. His blue eyes bulged from behind his glasses and his face turned a deep shade of crimson.

“You did what? When?” His voice was strained and he began shaking his head as if he didn’t believe her.

“Yesterday morning. I met Pauly Garrett for breakfast and signed several papers saying I relinquished all my rights to the song Trace and I wrote and that I wouldn’t record it. With anyone. Ever.”

Her manager’s eyes went wide as he took a step back. “Why the fuck would you do that? Without even talking to me? Why did you even ask me to be your manager if you were just going to do whatever the hell you wanted anyways?” Chaz was standing over her, raining angry questions that she couldn’t answer.

“I’m sorry, Chaz. Listen—”

“No, Kylie.
You
listen. I busted my ass to negotiate this deal for you, called in favors and pulled strings with people who I now owe, so that you could go on this tour in hopes that it would help you land an agent and a lucrative record deal. And you went behind my fucking back and signed some bullshit papers that you probably didn’t even read or get a copy of.”

Her head dropped in shame because he was right, and so he wouldn’t see the tears filling her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? This was exactly what Trace had been warning her about all along.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Her manager huffed out a loud breath. “Do you even want to do this?”

“Yes, of course I do. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of.” But her voice lacked conviction. She didn’t know what had happened to her, to that girl she once was who carried her guitar everywhere, sacrificed everything for music, and wouldn’t have let her stupid heart get in the way of her one shot at her dream. Trace had told her. Pauly had told her. Hell, even Tonya had said, “You’ll never get anywhere in this business if you keep letting your emotions make all of your decisions.” They were all right. And she was too damn headstrong to listen, too busy telling Trace how it was to hear what was he was trying to warn her about.

Her manager shook his head. “I’m done here. There are a thousand other girls who would’ve loved to be in your shoes.”

Kylie choked back a sob. Not a sad one—an angry one. Directed at herself. “You mean you’re done helping me with the Vitamin Water people? Surely there will be other tours and maybe we can just focus on recording and—”

“No, Ms. Ryans. I mean I’m
done
. As in, I don’t need this shit. Find yourself another manager. And don’t screw him over when he tries to help you.”

So this is what it feels like to lose everything. Again.

“Chaz, wait. Please, just tell me what I can do.” She barely resisted the urge to reach out and grab him, throw herself at his feet like a child and beg him not to go. Her career couldn’t be over before it had even begun. It just couldn’t.

Turning to face her, he took a deep breath before speaking. “Honestly, the only thing I can think of is calling Mr. Corbin and his manger and finding out if they’ve given those contracts to the label yet. If they have, you’re pretty much screwed because it’s out of their hands. But if they haven’t, maybe you can convince them to tear them up and let you record the song with him. That’s all I’ve got.”

Okay, well, that might work. At least he had a plan. “Okay, so will you do that?”

“Will I do what?” he asked, his brow wrinkling as he spoke.

“Call Tra, er, Mr. Corbin and ask him.”

Kylie watched as her manager, if he was still in fact her manager, pressed his fingers behind his glasses to rub his eyes and then his temples. “No, I won’t. You signed those papers. You dug this hole for yourself. Now you can pull yourself out of it. If and only if they agree to do this will I consider still being your manager. But so help me, Kylie, if you ever pull some shit like this on me again, not only will we be done, I’ll tell everyone I know to steer clear of your unbalanced ass.”

“Got it,” she nodded. “Thank you. And for what it’s worth…I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the man just stared at her as if trying to make up his mind about something. Then he sighed and turned away from her, exiting the studio and leaving her alone.

Standing there wallowing in her own shame, Kylie jumped when the door opened. The young red-haired guy poked his head in. “You ready, Ms. Ryans?”

“Um, I think I might need to reschedule.”

“H
i
Pauly. It’s me,” she said into the phone as she sat in her empty apartment. A few new pieces of furniture that she now regretting buying had just been delivered, and if Pauly had already given those documents to the label, she was going to have to return every bit of it.

“Kylie,” he clipped. “What can I do for you?”

“Um, I have a question actually.”

The manager sighed, almost as if he knew what was coming. “Shoot.”

“So Chaz was pretty pissed about me signing those papers. Well, the ones about the song.” He probably didn’t give two shits about the NDA, though that was the one that hurt her the most.

“Yeah, I imagine he would be. I told you not to just go signing things without him and or a lawyer present. For all you knew, you could’ve been signing away every song you ever recorded.”

Jesus. She hadn’t even thought of that. “Is that how it is, Pauly? Nobody really cares about anybody? Everybody’s just out to screw each other?” Literally, in her case. “Because if I’d known I was signing my whole damn career away, I would’ve listened.” Lord did she hate herself for not listening. She didn’t listen to Trace’s advice about her career and she sure didn’t listen when he told her he didn’t do relationships. Or at least her heart didn’t listen. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. This was about business. She had to remind herself to keep her stupid deaf heart out of it.

Another big sigh from the man on the other end. “Look, kid. No one is out to get you. I work for Trace—I do what I have to with his best interests in mind. I don’t always like it and I don’t always agree with it. Is that what you called to ask me?”

She could practically see him checking his watch.

“No, it’s not. I called to see if you still had those contracts or if you’d already given them to the label.”

In the seconds that passed before he answered, Kylie crossed her fingers, said a silent prayer, and wished she had something to burn to the gods of music.

“To be honest, I’m not sure if the label has them or not. I passed them along to Trace. He may still have them.”

Her chest ached to breathe a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t. Not yet. “So um, any idea where I might find him?”

“Hold on,” she heard him say, but she was pretty sure he was talking to someone in person and not her. “Yeah, I think he’s in Macon for a few days. You may want to call out there and check first. But if he’s already handed the contracts over, then there won’t be much he can do for you either.”

“I understand. Thanks for your time, Pauly.”

“Take care, kid.”

She ended the call and scrolled through her phone for Rae’s number. She might’ve found it amusing that she didn’t even have Trace’s number if it didn’t hurt so much. Just as she was about to hit the call button on the screen, an incoming call interrupted her. She didn’t recognize it, but it had an Oklahoma area code. Maybe Lulu had gotten a new phone.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Ryans?” an unfamiliar male voice said. Kylie’s skin prickled. For a moment she thought it might be a reporter calling to confirm whatever crazy bullshit Darla was spouting now.

“This is Miss Ryans. Kylie Ryans,” she told him, placing her finger over the red end button.

“My apologies, Miss Ryans. My name is Kevin Ryder and I’m with with Eternal Marble Memories. I received your online payment this morning and I was calling to schedule an appointment for designing Mr. Ryans’ headstone.”

Kylie’s thoughts scattered. She snagged the closest one because it made the most sense.

“There must be some mistake, Mr. Ryder. I didn’t make an online payment, or any kind of payment for that matter.” And there was no way in hell Darla would have paid for her dad’s tombstone and put Kylie’s name as the contact. Eternal Marble Memories was one of the most expensive companies she’d found when researching places to purchase a headstone for her dad. They specialized in custom monuments and the cheapest thing they had was several thousand dollars more than Kylie could afford.

She heard what sounded like the clicking of a keyboard. “Well, someone obviously wanted Robert Kyle Ryans to have the best that money could buy, because I have a receipt here for five thousand dollars along with strict instructions to place anything over that amount on the credit card I have on file.”

“Can you give me the name on the credit card you have on file?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew exactly whose name was on that card. Or she had a good guess at least.

“Um, hang on just a sec—here it is. Looks like the card we charged the payment to belongs to a Tracey M. Corbin.”

Kylie clutched the phone so hard her nails nearly dented the protective cover.

“Miss Ryans, are you still there?”

Was she?

“Yeah. Yes, sir. Um, about the appointment. I’m not in Oklahoma.”
You will be soon if Trace has already submitted those documents to Capital.
Her snarky subconscious hinted at what she was already in the process of figuring out. Like the overpayment from the tour, this was Trace’s way of relieving his guilt. Because of course he would’ve already turned in those contracts. Why else would Pauly have made such a big deal about getting them signed so quickly?

“That’s not a problem, Miss Ryans.”

Kylie couldn’t think straight. Hell yes it was a problem—the one thing she had plenty of was problems.

“We have an online gallery to choose from. You can place your order online or by phone at your convenience.” Right, okay.
Focus, Kylie.

“Um, okay, got it. Thank you.”

Mr. Ryder gave Kylie the website and phone number she needed and thanked her for her business. Kylie mumbled something she hoped was intelligible. Her hands shook as she sat the phone down on her coffee table. Pulling her knees to her chest, she tried to fight off the panic attack that was speeding towards her. If Trace did this, he did it out of guilt. Because he’d probably turned in those contracts, and he knew what she’d been giving up even if she didn’t realize it until Chaz went berserk.

She had to talk to Trace, had to beg, plead, or whatever else was necessary, to get him to get those papers back. Swallowing her pride, she knew it was time to admit that he was right about this being a business. She had to get her shit together and get over her heartbreak so they could record this song together.
Just get through this and then you can go back out on the road and forget him
. Except she would never really be able to forget him. But that was a crisis for another day.