Hillbilly Rockstar (7 page)

At eight-fifteen she closed the file she was working on and gathered her things, ready to meet Trace and Patrick at the production office at the studio where
The Next Country Star
was being taped. "Ellen," she said to the receptionist as she headed out of the building. "I have an appointment this morning. I should be back today, maybe around lunch. Let my calls go to voicemail, okay."

"Sure. An appointment?"

Lisa stopped at the question. Ellen was a bit of a gossip, and working at the reception desk seemed to make her want to know everyone's business didn't help. Ellen claimed she did her job better with more accurate information, but Lisa believed the woman just liked being nosy.

"Yes, an appointment," Lisa said again, being vague on purpose. "See you later."  

"All right, calls go to voicemail," Ellen repeated, seeming disappointed that Lisa wouldn't share her agenda. Lisa left, heading out for what could be the most important meeting in her new career.

She reached the studio just before nine, making good time in light traffic. She signed in with security and had to wait a few minutes in the lobby before Leon, the show's executive producer, Patrick and Trace came out to greet her. Lisa rose from the couch and shook Leon's hand, trying not to look at Trace any longer than necessary.

But she couldn't help notice him, especially after last night. He wore his typical outfit -- checked button-up shirt, jeans, boots, and, of course, his black hat. This was business, so he would be wearing the hat. She fell into step behind the others, trying her best not to remember how his body felt under her roaming hands or how she'd melted when he'd kissed her. Her face grew hot. No, you're not going to flush right now. Stay cool. She swore she heard Danny's voice laughing at her again.

The group settled into a glass-paned conference room on one of the upper floors of the building. It was an amazing meeting room. Large windows looked out over the Nashville skyline. The sun shone through the tinted glass, making it possible to enjoy the view and the beautiful morning. The conference table was large enough for twenty, and it faced a large video screen Lisa imagined was used for conference calls. Another set of large windows looked out into the office area where studio employees were working in their cubicles. Leon drew the blinds over the windows facing the inside of the building, but let the sun shine through the windows looking out at Nashville. Lisa walked over to them, not looking down but looking out over the city's skyline.

"Beautiful city, isn't it?" Trace asked, coming up behind her.

"Yes, it is." She could feel his heat, could feel his touch even though he never moved any closer.

"I'm sorry about last night, about what I said. I meant it, every word, and I'm not apologizing for that. But you're right, this is business, so if you want to keep it that way, then that's how it stays."

She swallowed, her throat dry. She wasn't sure she could speak, but she had to say something. Lisa turned away from the view at the window to face him and offered him a bright smile. "Thank you, apology accepted." Thank God, her voice didn't crack. She stepped to the side, away from him, and toward the table where the others were gathered.

She was thankful the meeting didn't last long. Within an hour they covered the contract, including the morality clause, and Trace collected his first check, minus Patrick's agent fee and Lisa's managerial fee. She touched the check, made out to her, not the company. She'd told Leon she was a freelancer working for the company, and since the studio was familiar with the process they'd agreed to cut the check to her. Fifteen thousand dollars, all hers. She was putting in her notice as soon as Boyd returned from Atlanta on Monday. She was going to use this money and give her new business a hundred percent of her time and attention.

"Now," Leon was saying. "Let's get this guy to work. First stop is going to be wardrobe, then you'll meet with Michelle and the director. We're happy to have you with us, Trace." Leon stood and shook Trace's hand.

"Glad to help you out, Leon. I'm looking forward to working with Michelle again."

Leon called Debbie, the wardrobe manager, to the office and asked her to take Trace to the wardrobe room to find something for taping. Trace said goodbye, glancing back at Lisa one more time. She met his eyes and willed herself to stay calm, to not let him see the desire there.

When the three were alone, Leon let out a breath. "You guys know we're taking a chance here, all of us. The reputation of the show, the studio, you as a manager and you as his agent." He motioned to Lisa and Patrick, then walked over to a mini-fridge installed under a countertop and grabbed three bottles of water.

"Yes, we are taking a chance." Patrick said, accepting a water bottle. "But I've known Trace for sixteen years. He's one of my first clients and he's now one of my best friends. He's serious about this job and making it work. He said he's going to abide by the contract and I believe him."

"He understands the morals clause. He won't break it." Lisa spoke up, reassuring the producer.

"I hope so. You need to keep an eye on him, Lisa. He's a great musician, a great performer, but you know his reputation."

"He is, and I am. Keeping an eye on him, I mean. That's part of our agreement for him to have representation. Believe me, Leon, Trace is going to keep his word, to all of us, and he's ready to show the world that he's back."

###

After she finished talking with Leon and Patrick, Lisa headed over to one of the stages the show used at the studio. Leon told her that Trace should be on Stage A, the rehearsal space. Stage B was used for taping as it was larger and had the space for a five-hundred member audience.

She checked her watch as she crossed the lot to Stage A. It was about ten-thirty and she knew she needed to get back to the office soon. She'd be on her way as soon as she spoke to Trace.

Lisa stepped onto the stage area, looking for him. How am I ever going to find him? The room was full of equipment and crew, testing lighting and cameras for Friday's dress rehearsal followed by Saturday's taping. A group was milling around the soundstage, talking, pointing at lights and speakers and checking over printed pages. There was one person Lisa recognized -- Trace's co-host, Michelle Nelson, sitting in a director's chair with her name stitched across the back, reading her notes.

It didn't take long for her take everything in and immediately feel out of place. She needed to find Trace. She glanced around again and was about to ask one of the many people scurrying about where he could be when she saw him enter from stage left.

Lisa started walking over to him but stopped when she saw Michelle Nelson leave her seat and head towards him, her long legs in bootcut jeans, tight around her hips.

###

Trace was heading from the backstage wardrobe area to the stage when he saw Michelle walking toward him. Wow, he thought. This was not the fresh faced, naïve nineteen-year-old he'd written songs for when she was just starting out. This was a beautiful woman, even wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans.

"Hey, Cowboy. Long time no see." Michelle offered Trace a flirty smile before greeting him with a hug.

"Hey, Kid, how are you?" He hugged her back, then released her and stepped back. He tilted his hat back on his head. "Well, aren't you something. Good to see you, Michelle. Congratulations on the award."

"It all goes back to you, you know. Your songs on my first album made it take off the way it did."

"No, it was all you." He gave her another quick hug, followed by a peck on the cheek. Before he could release her again, Michelle pulled him closer and kissed him on the lips. He pulled back, surprised.

"It's great to see you, Cowboy. I'm looking forward to working with you again." Michelle's voice was low and breathless. It took Trace a few seconds to realize what she was doing. Michelle was flirting -- with him. He took a good look at her, realizing once more the girl he'd known had grown into a very beautiful, sexy woman. Her blonde, highlighted hair was cut to frame her face, her makeup was perfect, and her hazel eyes were bright with interest and possibility. He was free, he reasoned. He could take whatever she was offering, free and clear. So why didn't he?

Trace broke contact with Michelle and stepped back, looking away from her, and saw Lisa standing off to the side, watching them. That feeling hit him again, the punch-in-the-stomach feeling he hadn't been able to shake since their kiss Monday night, and he knew without question why not.  

###

Jealousy flared through Lisa when she saw the kiss. I knew it. One woman is as good as another. She stood still, unable to move, even as Trace made his way to her.

"Hey, glad you came by. Can you stay for a while?"

She shook herself free, realizing she needed to focus. "No, I can't. I need to get back to the office. I brought information on some interviews you've been scheduled to do." She pulled two sheets of paper from her bag. "You and Michelle seem to have hit it off. Isn't that nice."

She heard the iron in her voice, hated the way the hard tone made her sound. She sounded jealous and petty and mean. But so what. She felt jealous and petty and mean. "Here." She handed the papers to Trace. "I think the studio has already let Michelle know about the interviews. You need to be there at eight tomorrow morning."

She watched him glance over the information and her heart thudded against her chest. How could it break when they weren't in a relationship? When they'd just met? But it was breaking and she couldn't help it. She'd been the one to stop everything after all.  

"Do you need a ride to the interviews? I can send a car for you." Lisa went into manager mode, still hearing the shrill, business-like tone in her voice.

"No, I'll drive my truck. I know where to go." He looked up at her and Lisa felt like drowning in his dark brown eyes. Before she got too comfortable in their depths, she turned away, back to business.  

"Okay, I'm heading back to the office. I'll check back with you later." She turned to leave, but Trace took her arm.

"Hey," he said, holding her in a gentle grip.

"What?" she answered, her voice raw and rough.

"
Michelle
kissed me." He let her arm go. "Just wanted you to know."

"None of my business, but okay." Lisa blew it off, tried to blow it off, but inside she felt peace flow over her aching heart. "See you later." Those words weren't harsh and rough and mean. They'd grown soft. She couldn't continue to feel that away about him and someone from his past. That's what it was, his past. And she was the one who'd stopped anything from happening between them anyway. It was none of her business if he wanted to date someone else.

She told herself these things as she walked away from the studio, struggling to help her brain accept what her heart kept saying wasn't true.

Chapter Eight

Trace's truck parked in the garage attached to Cahill-Waters just before noon Wednesday. He grabbed the bags full of Chinese food he'd bought, locked his truck, and stepped into the lobby of Cahill-Waters.

It had been a while since he'd been there. The reception area looked the same -- tile floors, reception desk, offices to the back. The furniture had been updated. Instead of the inexpensive chintz sofa and chairs Charlie had bought years ago for the lobby, Trace saw a sophisticated, contemporary leather sofa flanked by two similar looking chairs.

He must have seen Lisa there at some point since she said she'd worked for Charlie for about six years. He didn't remember Charlie mentioning her, but that didn't surprise him. Trace knew there were days, weeks, months, hell, even years, that he couldn't remember.

He walked through the reception area and over to the desk where the receptionist was stacking files.

"Excuse me, Ellen," Trace read her name from the placard on her desk. He'd surprised her -- she startled when he said her name. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I wanted to see Lisa Jenkins. I brought lunch."

"Oh, how thoughtful. Lisa is to the right and down the hall."

"She's in Charlie's office? I guess that would make sense."

"She's always worked in Charlie's office." Trace heard Ellen's voice slow, becoming wary. "I need to call and let her know you're coming back."

"Sure, no problem. It's Trace Harper. I'm a client of hers."

"Of hers?" Ellen had the strangest look on her face, as if she had bitten into a sour candy.

"Yes, hers. Go ahead and call her."

Ellen picked up the phone and pressed a button, never taking her eyes off Trace.

###

Lisa sat at her desk, paperwork scattered all over the desktop. She was clearing out all of Charlie's files so that Boyd and the other managers could deal with the clients they'd kept. There was material in the files that hadn't been touched in years. She went through each file, making a decision for storage or to keep in the office. She wanted everything to be documented as best as she could before she left. Boyd had seemed disappointed that she was leaving, but she knew she was making the right decision. Now she just needed to prove it to someone, as well as herself.  

She smelled something. Sweet and sour chicken? One of the staff must have ordered Chinese take-out for lunch. The smell wafted closer and suddenly Trace filled the doorway, bearing plastic bags that smelled heavenly. But he couldn't be here, not now.

"Trace," she jumped from her desk, turning her nameplate that read
Secretary
face down on the shiny surface. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd bring you lunch and tell you about the interviews. Did you see any of them? They went well." He set the bags on Charlie's empty desk. "I like the office. It's different from the last time I was here. There's new carpet, and curtains I think." He turned towards Lisa. "It's good you got Charlie's old office."

"I enjoy being here, even though I miss him." She stepped from behind her desk, picked up the bags and gave them back to Trace. "Trace, you need to go. I have a client coming in ten minutes. I don't have time to eat right now." The lie rolled from her tongue more easily than she was comfortable with, she realized. She started to head out of the office into the hallway, trusting he would follow. "I can meet you tomorrow or Friday on the way to rehearsal."