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“Okay.” I nodded.

Parker pulled out his phone while running his gaze over the paisley wallpaper. “So, I’m going to leave you to get settled in. I’ll come back and get you at eight, and we can head over to the club. Aren wants to show you around.”

“Sounds good.” My smile was tight, but Parker didn’t notice. He was too busy texting on his phone as he walked out the door.

I gazed around the room, my face crumpling. Flopping onto the bed, I nearly jumped at the loud squeak of the springs. The mattress was kind of lumpy, and it made me miss my bed…I mean, Josh’s bed.

Clearing my throat, I shook the thought aside. So what if I had to make small sacrifices. This was hardly that anyway! I’d had much worse.

“Whatever it takes,” I muttered.

With a determined huff, I rose from the bed and hefted my suitcase off the floor. I flung back the lid and Josh’s postcard fluttered out of it, landing upside-down on the floor.

I collected it up, running my fingers over his address. That was as far as I’d gotten. I didn’t know what to say to him.

A loud siren wailed outside, making me flinch. Looking over my shoulder, I turned and walked to the window. The view outside was a brick wall. If I opened the window and leaned out as far as I could, I might have been able to touch it.

The card in my hand started to feel heavy, so I placed it on the table.

I’d write Josh later.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to him in that minute.

Chapter Thirteen

Josh

I was worried about Rachel, but I couldn’t peg why. I’d been haunted by our last phone call, and something about that particular day was making me uneasy. I wanted to hear from her, to know she was okay, but my stubborn ass couldn’t find it in me to call her. I had to wait until I could pretend happy, but I just wasn’t there.

“Well, this night sucks.” Brock swigged his beer and pointed his glass at the stage. “Talk about drowning in sorrow. What’s this guy’s problem anyway?”

I looked to the guitar-playing soloist. He was from a few towns over and came to play every now and then. I didn’t mind so much. He had a great voice, and his music usually soothed me. So he sung about heartache a lot. I could relate!

Unlike my best friend, we didn’t have ourselves the perfect life.

“Would you go home,” I spat. “You’ve got a pretty woman waiting for ya.”

“She does the late shift on Mondays. I don’t got anywhere else to be.”

“It’s only Monday?” I drooped my head. “I feel like it’s been a year since she left.”

“Would you stop? It’s been less than a week, and I’m already sick of hearin’ ya.” Brock slapped his beer down and swiveled on his seat so he could stare me down proper. “You have to get over her.”

“I can do twelve months. We’re just going long distance for a while.”

“Yeah, sure. Long distance. That always works for people.” Brock rolled his eyes, scratching the backwards cap on his head.

“We’re different,” I muttered.

“Right, because your last phone call went so damn well.”

I clipped him over the back of his head. I would have done more if I hadn’t been forced to fill an order.

With a tight smile, I took the money from a lady I’d never seen before and poured her and her husband a couple of beers. She waited by the bar to take them back herself. Even though it was a quiet night, Harriet was still rushed off her feet. I had to give her the next day off, there was no two ways about it, but I couldn’t run the bar on my own.

Maybe if I rang and told Rachel that, she’d come home.

She knew how much I loved this place, how much it meant to me. She’d hate for it to go under. Maybe I could guilt her back.

Yeah, it was cruel to even think it, but I was a desperate man.

The guitarist finished his song with a final strum and received a pitiful round of applause for his efforts. He smiled anyway. “Okay, folks, I’ve just got one more song in me for tonight.”

“Praise be to God,” Brock muttered.

“This is a favorite of mine by the legendary Keith Urban.”

A soft cheer went up from table nine and then he started strumming. I closed my eyes, knowing the song immediately.

“Stupid Boy”… of all the songs. My fingers pressed into the wood of the bar, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the guy.

The song dug into my very soul, crippling me.

Was I that man? The stupid boy clinging for all the wrong reasons?

I sure as hell was acting like him.

Brock tried to say something to me, but I couldn’t hear him. I hated the idea that I’d been holding back a treasure. My beautiful Rachel was finally seeing her dreams come true, and I couldn’t even be happy for her.

I felt like shit.

The song mercifully came to an end, and I was pulled out of my stupor…well, mostly. I couldn’t raise a smile for anybody, and maybe that’s what emptied the bar out so fast. I was plagued by my bad behavior. Rachel had struggled so hard and long to get to this point. She deserved it.

The jukebox clicked over and “Smile” by Lonestar began to play. A wry grin crested over my lips. The bigger man. That’s what I needed to be.

I pulled the phone from my back pocket and dialed Rachel’s number.

It rang seven times. I don’t know why I counted, but she never answered. So I listened to her sweet voice.

“
Hey there. I can’t take your call right now, but please leave me a message. Say something that’ll make me smile.
”

I grinned and I was glad for it, because I’m sure it came through in my voice. “Hey, baby. I was just calling to tell you—I guess I want you to know that—” I squeezed the back of my neck, feeling like a prize idiot. “Hell, I’m not good at this.” I huffed. “Baby—I—I want you to be happy. I know how long you’ve dreamed about this kind of thing happening and I…I’ll support you, okay? I guess…I…Yeah, I’ll support you.” My voice petered off, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I hung up.

In spite of my rambled message, I felt better for leaving it. Rachel would appreciate the call. I’d done the right thing. Picking up a chair, I set about stacking them onto the tables so I could sweep up and head to bed. The idea was lonely, but I had to get used to that.

Duke’s claws scraped against the wood as he trotted into the main bar. He’d been trained to wait for the noise to die down, and his body clock seemed scheduled to wake from his evening nap at just the right time.

He wandered over to me, still looking a little sleepy as he nuzzled my hand.

“Hey, boy. At least I still got you, right?”

I scratched his oversized skin and he snuffled.

“You ain’t thinking of leaving anytime soon, are ya?” His response was to lean against my leg, his long tail whipping back and forth like crazy.

I grinned. “That’s my boy.”

Chapter Fourteen

Rachel

Parker knocked on my door at eight sharp. I scuttled over in my heels. Since we were going to the club, I dolled up again. I was wearing a sleek red dress that I’d bought on Sunday. Parker had handed me a wad of cash and told me to go snazzy up. I wasn’t comfortable taking the money from him, but he assured me it was a loan and I could pay him back with my first paycheck. It still felt weird but I couldn’t resist, so I went a little crazy.

My red dress looked perfect with my sparkly, new pumps. It was a little strange getting used to strutting around in the higher shoes, but I figured I could do it. Parker had let me know what kinds of clothes to look for.

“You have to dress to impress in this town,” he’d said.

I think I’d done a pretty good job.

My ankle rolled when I got to the door, but I managed to hide my wince behind a friendly smile.

“Hey there.”

“Wow, Rachel, you look beautiful.” Parker’s dark eyes drank me in, an appreciative smile on his lips.

I dipped my hip. “Why thank you, sir.”

He chuckled and held out his hand. “Shall we go?”

“Of course.” I took it and he led me out of the building.

My day had been spent battling doubts as I unpacked in my tiny, bleak apartment, and I was looking forward to seeing Club Liberation. Hopefully it’d make me feel better. If it was anything like the club Parker took me to over the weekend, it would be amazing. I couldn’t wait to see the stage I’d be performing on and get a feel for the place.

Butterflies made from fairy dust and electricity purred in my stomach, making me giddy and a little lightheaded.

I squeezed Parker’s hand as he led me down the street, my grip loosening when we rounded the corner and came face to face with a security guard who was as wide as he was tall.

“Hey, Murphy.” Parker greeted him with an easy smile.

“Evening, Mr. Stewart.” His huge chin bunched when he nodded.

Parker pointed at me. “This is one of our new girls.”

Murphy gave me a tight, closed-mouth smile, which I mirrored. I didn’t like being referred to as one of Parker’s girls. It didn’t sit right with me.

I ignored the niggle inside, reminding myself to make the most of this. Worrying about niggles wasn’t going to get me a recording contract. I had to do whatever it took to get me where I wanted to be.

Murphy pulled back the big, black door and let us in.

“I thought I’d bring you in the back way.” Parker grinned. “The line out the front is always so long, and I don’t like getting heckled when they let us waltz right through.”

I nodded, only half-listening. I was too busy concentrating on not breaking my ankle as I tottered up the darkened stairwell. Parker let go of my hand when we reached the top, stepping aside so I could walk in front of him. We moved into a dazzling dressing room. It was empty, but I smiled when I saw the row of mirrors with makeup splayed across the counters in front of it. I took in the glittery material draped over backs of chairs and the bright lights surrounding each mirror. It was like real Hollywood behind the scenes stuff, and I was going to be getting ready in this room.

“Nice space, right?” Parker touched my lower back.

“Yeah, this looks amazing.” My chuckle was breathy and a little too fan-girlish for my tastes. I swallowed it back and pulled a confident smile.

“Come on, let’s go find Aren.”

“Okay.” My glee was on a high, my dancing butterflies breaking into a frenzy as I walked out of my future dressing room and down the corridor to the main club.

I could hear cheering and whooping then a loud, “Why thank you, boys.” The woman gave a flirty laugh and wolf-whistles ensued.

My forehead crinkled, my butterflies being eaten alive by my previous niggle.

“That’s the stage entrance.” Parker pointed to the right. “But tonight, we’re going to hang out in here.”

He took my hand and pulled me into nothing like the club he’d taken me to on the weekend.

I walked into a seedy, dark-lit room that gave me the creeps. My panicky gaze flickered around the big space, taking in table after table of men. There were a few women, but not many. The occupants varied in size, shape, and age, but they all had one thing in common—hungry leers on their drooling faces. Every eye in the room was glued to the stage, and my warm buzz evaporated when I saw what they were staring at.

A woman, looked to be just a little older than me, wearing a sparkly miniskirt and silver tassels on her nipples, was gyrating to the beat of some sexy song I didn’t recognize.

I heard the words “Kiss you all over” and swallowed.

Her sexy, husky voice and her body moving that way was hypnotic, but…but all I could see were silver tassels.

I hoped to God they didn’t think I’d be wearing something like that. What kind of record deal was she hoping for?

I couldn’t hide behind a smile that time.

Parker glanced over his shoulder at me and did a double-take.

“What’s the matter?” He leaned forward to yell in my ear, as that was the only way he could be heard over the thumping beat.

“This is not at all like the club you took me to on the weekend. This is no Helium!”

“It’s not that different.” His reply was sharp and had a snap to it that told me not to argue. “Come on, let’s go.” He tipped his head and pulled me through the crowd.

Eyes tracked me as I trailed behind Parker, and I turned to give out a few scowls. The fat one in the business suit two sizes too small chuckled at me and wiggled his eyebrows, rolling the cigar in his fingers as his gaze went straight to my ass.

I picked up my pace, nearly crashing into Parker as he stopped at a round booth table in the upper corner of the room.

“Aren!” He let my hand go, spreading his arms wide before ushering me forward.

Trying to smile was impossible. All I could think about was Josh, Clark’s Bar, Duke. In other words—comfort, warmth, safety.

“Good evening, Rachel.” Aren’s smile was charming as he stood from his seat and extended his hand. “Come, sit.”

I took his hand. His fingers were sweaty and hot, as if he’d been sitting on them or something. As soon as I’d climbed the two stairs and was seated, I slipped my fingers out of his grasp.

“Welcome to Club Liberation!” he bawled into my ear.

Forcing a grin was an effort, but I managed. It was a tight, noncommittal one, but at least it was something. Aren’s probing gaze made me uncomfortable.

“So, I’m excited you chose to sign the contract. It’s official now. You’re one of my girls. We’ll start training tomorrow.”

I pointed at the stage, faking a bright laugh. “I’m not going to be one of
those
girls though, right? You signed me for my country voice and charm.” I thickened my accent, really trying to sell it.

His leering smile and narrowing gaze slashed at my hope—the back of his finger running down my arm didn’t help much either. “You’re going to be whatever I want you to be.”

I flinched at his dark tone, my face hardening as I stared at him. “I didn’t sign up for that.” Damn that my finger shook when I pointed at the stage again.

Aren’s sigh was so short I nearly missed it, but then his lips pressed against my ear. “I think you’ll find that you signed up to let me guide and coach you. That contract states that you
will
take my advice on performance, song selection, and clothing. If I think I can sell you as a tassel-wearing temptress, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I’m not doing that,” I muttered.

“Yes, Rachel, you are, because I have your name in ink.”

His words were a kick to the guts. My eyes stung with fire as I blinked, looking back to the stage as Miss Sexy took a bow and twirled her tassels one last time before skipping off.

The hollers and cheers following her made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t mean to sign up for that.

I didn’t mean—

Shit!

What the hell was I going to do?