Hillbilly Rockstar (12 page)

"Okay, that could work. But he can't do this again. He's only recorded one show, Lisa. One. And he's got a reputation for trouble. You promised he wouldn't cause trouble."

Trace was trouble all right, but she wasn't about to tell Leon.

"He had a reason. There were equipment issues and the director was yelling at the girl, not Trace. They'd been there since six that morning with technical issues all day."

"I know, some of the performers and Michelle told me the same thing." He sighed and Lisa heard his deep breath over the line. "Tell Trace one more time and he's out. I mean it. If the others hadn't spoken up for him, he'd already be out. But he seems to be doing well, and we don't need anymore curse theories. You'll set up that interview?"

"I will, and I'll let you know when and where." Lisa jotted down notes on her notepad. "Anything else, Leon?"

"Just keep him out of trouble, Lisa. Please."

Leon disconnected. Lisa pressed END on her phone and finished writing out her notes, making lists of producers and booking agents she knew. Maybe an exclusive would work better? She scribbled more notes.

It was almost eleven-thirty before she called Patrick. When he didn't answer, she left him a message to call her in the morning. Lisa rose from the chair and yawned. It had been a long day.

She headed back to her bedroom, deciding to go to bed before midnight for once, when her phone beeped. Lisa checked the display and smiled at seeing a text from Trace --

Thinking of U

She laughed as she typed out her reply.

Thinking of U 2. See you tomorrow?

The response came back in an instant --

Definitely

Chapter Fourteen

"Yes, Trace and Michelle will be on E! tomorrow. Of course they get along. They're old friends and they're enjoying working together. Yes, run the video. We're not pulling it down. Trace will share some information about the video tomorrow. Otherwise, you can read the press release I sent over this morning. Yes, that one. Okay, thanks." Lisa ended the call. She'd repeated the same material to so many reporters that day she felt as if her tongue was going to fall off. She sounded like a recording.

Tempted to turn her phone off, she headed down the hallway backstage toward Trace's dressing room. They'd decided to go out to dinner for their first in-public date. Lisa had ended up having to come straight from work, which meant she hadn't had time to change. She walked down the hall, her heeled boots clicking on the floor, searching for a restroom so she could at least comb her hair and check her makeup.

She had just seen a restroom when a woman walked up to her, blocking the entrance.

"Hello," she said, offering her hand for a shake. "I'm Caroline Sims, Molly's mother."

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Sims. Glad to meet you." Bathroom has to wait, networking comes first.

"You're Trace's manager, right? I wanted to tell you, I know the video looked bad, but he was standing up for Molly. I appreciate him doing that."

"Well, that's the type of man Trace is." Lisa meant every word.

"I think Molly has a bit of a crush on him."

"Well, that's the type of man Trace is." Lisa smiled.

"I believe you," Caroline laughed. "I did want to ask you something. I think Molly needs a manager. She's getting endorsement offers because of this show and her father and I don't know what to do."

"Well, an agent typically handles endorsement deals. A manager handles publicity and career management. Why don't you call Trace's agent, Patrick Mitchell? Here's his card" -- Lisa fished business cards from her handbag -- "and here's mine."

Lisa had them made right after Trace agreed to be her client. It was more real to see her name on a business card, the words "Talent Management" written below it in a flowery script.

"Thank you. I'll call him, but could we speak to you a moment?"

Lisa thought about her date, then the possibility of a new client. She was leaving her job in just over three weeks. She needed another client.

"Let me send a message and I'll meet you in Molly's dressing room. We can discuss a few things, talk it over with Molly."

"Molly's going to love seeing you. I'll meet you there." Caroline turned and walked back down the hallway.

Lisa sent Trace a quick text, telling him she was going to speak to Molly but would be done soon. Their dinner was still on -- she was not going to miss it. She sent the text and headed toward Molly's dressing room.

###

Lisa and Trace stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall towards his apartment. Lisa was laughing at something Trace had said and didn't see the woman at the end of the hallway until she'd walked up to meet them at the door.

"Hey, Sugar." The woman said, ignoring Lisa, looking right at Trace. "Thought I'd drop in and say hi."

"Trace, call security. They'll escort her out and then we can find out how a fan got up to your floor." Lisa scanned the woman from head to toe. Yep, crazy fan, trying to make an impression with teased up blonde hair, see-through lace top with a push-up bra underneath and too much eye makeup.

"Oh, Honey, Trace ain't going to call security on me. Are you, Sugar?"

"Trixie, what the hell are you doing here?"

Lisa looked at Trace and back at the garishly-dressed woman.

"Trace, you know her?"

"This is my ex-wife, Trixie. Do you know how big a mess you've caused? I can't believe you took out a mortgage on my house, on my land. Where's the money?"

"Oh, Sugar, it was all a misunderstanding. You said I could do whatever I needed to do while you were gone. I just needed to borrow a little bit of money, but I didn't own anything and the bank said I needed something. But I didn't do it on purpose." Trixie pouted, her eyes downcast, frowning, looking like a petulant child.  

A cough sounded from behind them. One of Trace's neighbors had stepped into the hallway.

"Good evening, sir." Lisa's management skills took over. "We're sorry we bothered you." She leaned closer to Trace. "We need to go inside."

"I'm not letting her step a foot into my apartment." Trace's voice rose in angry volume.

The cough sounded again.

"Fine, dammit," he yelled at the neighbor, then took out his key and unlocked the door. "After you, ladies. Trixie, don't step one foot past the living room."

###

Trace followed the women inside. Anger boiled within him, threatening to bubble out and overtake everything around him.

"I ought to call the police and have you arrested." He followed them into the living room and tossed his hat on the glass-topped coffee table.

"You can't arrest me. I was your wife, I had power-of-attorney." Trixie sat on the sofa, leaning back against the cushions and crossing her legs.

Trace was not going for it. This had always been her M.O. - explain, apologize, be sexy. Not going to work this time around. And seeing her again, in her bright makeup and see-through clothes, he had to wonder what he'd ever seen in her.

"Trixie, why are you here?" He stood at the side of the couch, arms folded, feet spread, ready for anything.

"Sugar, could we speak in private?" Trixie motioned over to Lisa, sitting in the chair near the fireplace. "This conversation should be between husband and wife."

"I'm not your husband, you're not my wife, and Lisa stays. Again, what do you want?"

He watched Trixie flick her hair back from her face. This was another of her moves -- stalling.

"Out with it." He said, letting his irritation show.

"All right then. We have some unfinished business, Sugar. My attorney has informed me that I am due back spousal support."

A volcano flared deep within, burning so hot Trace would swear his face was bright red.

"You got all the support you're ever going to get. Not to mention the money you stole when you put my house and land up for collateral. You need to leave, now, or I will call the police and have them charge you with blackmail."

"Now, I didn't say anything about blackmail. I said back spousal support. I have a document right here." Trixie dug through her purse and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Trace. "My attorney says you didn't pay all of the agreed upon spousal support. That's the court order, to be paid immediately."

Trace took the document, skimmed it.

"Trixie, I don't care what this is" -- he ripped it in half, then in quarters, and let it drop to the floor -- "I'm not paying you another cent. You stole more money than this paper is even asking for."

"I've already told you, I didn't steal anything. I borrowed the money, which I had every right to do as your wife." She rose from the couch and walked over to him, running her pink-polished nails over his arm.

"I saw you on TV the other night, and I thought, he is still so handsome. I remembered all our good times and wondered if you might like to give it another shot." Her voice went from sexy seductress to a pleading, little girl voice. "You know we were good together, Sugar." Ignoring Lisa in the chair behind her, Trixie caressed his arm again, her fingers trailing up his bicep.

Trace pushed her away. "You were good at getting drunk and passing out. You were good at spending my money on alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, other men. We were anything but good together."

"Oh, Sugar, sure we were. Remember when we met, that first night. I rocked your world." Trixie leaned closer and Trace could smell the alcohol on her breath.

"I was too drunk to notice, Trixie." Her name tasted foul in his mouth. "That's the only reason why I ever agreed to marry you. It was the longest two years of my life, and that was when I was drunk." He stalked to the door, opened it. "Leave, now."

He saw surprise in her eyes, but then the old cunning look he'd come to know in the final month of his marriage was back.

"Oh, this is because she's here." Trixie pointed to Lisa, who hadn't said a word. But Trace didn't like the look on her face.

"No, it's because I want you to leave. And if you ever ask me for money again, I'll have you arrested. Now open your mouth again, and I'll shut it for you."

Trixie opened her mouth as if to say something and Trace took a step forward, his hands balled into fists. He would keep his promise, it was God's honest truth. Trixie seemed to think better of it and stepped out into the hallway.

"You're going to regret saying no to me, Trace Harper." She threatened as she walked toward the elevators.  

Trace slammed the door, locking it and setting the dead bolt for good measure. Then he punched the door, once, twice, three times. His hand aching, his heart pounding, he turned to look at Lisa.

The laughing, happy woman he'd had dinner with was gone. This Lisa was watching him, her fear evident. Trace struggled to get his breathing under control.

"So that was my ex." He walked over to the couch and sat diagonal to Lisa in the matching chair. "She pisses me off."

"I can see that. I hope I never piss you off."

He ran a hand through his hair. "You won't. Look, I don't want her to ruin our night."

"Trace, I need to be honest with you." Lisa stood, walking over to the fireplace before turning around. "I know she made you angry. I understand that. But your temper scares me."

"Scares you?" Trace rose from the couch, moved towards her. "Lisa, you heard what she wanted. She stole seventy-thousand dollars from me and wanted more. I'm going to be angry."

"Angry, yes. Furious, no. I can see why there's so much controversy now over your video. You handle your emotions with violence. You get angry, you hit things, you throw things. It scares me."

Trace met her at the fireplace and took her hands in his. "Come on." He led her back to the couch, holding her hands in his. His anger was cooling, receding into the background, now that Trixie was gone.

He sat on the couch next to her but didn't release her hands. "I want to explain, if I can. Trixie was a fan. She followed me and the guys in the band. I'd hit it big a few years before we met, but then my grandparents died. Like I told you at the house, I took their deaths pretty hard."

Lisa nodded, listening, and kept her hands in his.

"Trixie was there. I was angry at everything, angry at the world. I thought she could make me feel better. Next thing I knew, we got married on a stop through Vegas. Before long, I knew it was a mistake. Lisa, she lied to me. She cheated on me. She started drinking, doing drugs. I know I don't have the best reputation, but I had a moment of clarity when I divorced her."

He stood, pulling her up from the couch, releasing her hands and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Lisa, I'm sorry I scared you. Everything that's happened to me, it's not an excuse, just a reason for why I'm this way. But I won't hurt you. I promise."

She nodded, but he still saw doubt deep in her green eyes.

"I promise," he whispered, and sealed the promise with a soft kiss.  

Chapter Fifteen

"What do you want me to do, Mama? He kicked me out, said he'd have me arrested." Trixie was on her phone as she walked to her car, illegally parked near the front door of the building.

"You try again. You don't have to take anything he says to you, never again. You had to back then, as it was your wifely duty, but he stopped providing the way he should have. He broke his duty as a husband. But you keep doing whatever you need to do and get some of that money."

"Okay, Mama." Trixie disconnected her phone as she climbed into her car. She peeled out of the driveway, spinning her tires and burning rubber, darting in front of a pickup as she pulled out. The blare of the horn didn't faze her as she sped away.

###

Lisa checked her watch. Close to four, which meant Trace and Michelle were taping their satellite interview for E! She hoped the interview and the statements put out by Trace, Michelle and the producers of the show would help stop the tide of bad publicity.

Lisa was on her way to her office from the break room when she saw Trixie step off the elevator. Why on earth was she here? Oh, God. What if she'd found out the truth?   

Trixie's cropped t-shirt and miniskirt left nothing to the imagination. Her exposed belly boasted a navel piercing and the wedge heels accentuated her height. As if in an '80s tribute, her blonde hair was teased high and she wore bright blue eye shadow.