Girl in Love(13)

“THEY WANT me to what? No, hell no.” Kylie scoffed at her agent and her manager, who sat across from her in the back booth at the Oak Bar.

She put her burger down, having suddenly lost her appetite, and wiped the napkin across her mouth. Her agent was a traitor, she was damn near positive. But her manager usually had her back. She leveled him with a glare and he put his hands up.

“Kylie, you bailed early on your own release party for The Other Side of Me, imitated a soulless corpse to the point we wondered if you were auditioning for a spot on The Walking Dead at the party they threw you when it went platinum, and turned down the tour with Bryce Parker. You’re turning into some type of diva who won’t play by the rules. The label can support you or let your ass hang in the wind. It’s your choice. But they’re asking you to do this, to make a quick appearance at this benefit, to generate some buzz for both of you.”

She narrowed her eyes at Chaz Michaelson. He shrugged, clearly unfazed by her hostility.

“Bull. They want me to show up there and make some kind of scene so the tabloids can drum up some shit about me and him and his crazy-ass girlfriend. Get him back in the public eye before his next album drops. Pass. They can find a hundred other girls willing to fake a relationship with him for attention. I’d bet my daddy’s truck on it.”

Her agent pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. “Is this about you not wanting to be a pawn in the publicity game or about your feelings for him? Be straight with us, because we’re the ones trying to help you here. Remember?”

Yeah, Kylie remembered. She also remembered that her agent was his agent, too.

“I don’t want to be involved in anyone’s game. Not his and not the label’s. That’s how I started out, and I’ve put it behind me. My career is about me. Not about him and not about whatever the label wants to spin us as. He and I are nothing and it’s going to stay that way.”

“He who?” Maude Lowenstein prompted. “If your feelings for him aren’t an issue, then how come you haven’t said his name? He’s not Voltemort, last I checked. Saying his name won’t conjure him out of thin air.”

Kylie resisted the urge to fold her arms and glare at the surprisingly sharp and callous woman in her late sixties. And to storm the hell out. She took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Trace. His name is Trace. And while I fully support his A Hand Up charity-thing, I have no interest in being involved in his benefit concert. I’ll donate a signed guitar or something. But I’m not going to it. I wasn’t even technically invited. We done here?”

She began to scoot out of the booth, but her manager reached out and put a hand on her arm.

“You were invited, Kylie. He’s having a hard time. The venue pulled out because of his rehab stay and so did some of his family-friendly sponsors. The event’s been moved to his property in Macon and his sister called me personally and invited you.”

He’s having a hard time.

The words wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Kylie swallowed and looked up at the ceiling. She sucked in a lungful of air and glanced from her agent to her manager.

“All I have to do is show up?”

The other two people at her table exchanged glances and Chaz cleared his throat.

“Um, not exactly. The label was hoping you and Trace would sing The Other Side of Me. On the tailgate of some truck that’s being donated to his charity.”

Kylie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why do they want us to sing it at some benefit? I don’t see how that would make any difference to them.”

“We don’t know for sure,” Maude answered. “But if I had to make an educated guess, I’d say they’re playing with the idea of sending you two on tour together. Again.”





THE TOWN car’s windows were tinted so dark she could barely see out of them. Kylie used the long drive to text Lulu so she wouldn’t be tempted to watch the scenery. To smile at the sight of magnolia trees dotting the sprawling land bordered by white fences, and grand weeping willows that made her want to do just that—weep.

This drive used to mean something to her that she couldn’t even articulate accurately or aloud without a lump forming in her throat.

It used to be the way home.

Now it was the way to a place she’d sworn she’d never return to. A place where she was pretty sure she wasn’t wanted. Not by the homeowner anyway. Obviously some other people had other ideas.

“Shit. Are you going to cry, Oklahoma? If you are, at least get drunk first so we can blame the alcohol.”

Kylie glanced over at Mia. “Shut it. I’m tired. It’s been a long few weeks.”