“Remember when I called you from Nashville? The first time?” Her friend didn’t answer right away, so she rushed on. “Remember how worried you were? And what did I tell you?”
“That you were going to be okay. You promised.”
Kylie grinned even though her friend couldn’t see. “Right. And I am going to be okay this time, too.”
I hope.
“And this time I’ll be with you,” Lulu added. “So if you and Country Ken Doll get yourselves into a mess, I’ll be there to junk-punch the both of you.”
For the first time in days, Kylie laughed. “Well thank God for that.”
“So my flight gets in tomorrow morning. I hate that I can’t be there tonight.”
Kylie’s laughter died in her throat. Tonight was the kickoff party for the tour. At The Rum Room. And she was going alone. “Yeah, um, no big. Promise I’ll be fine.”
“You do realize what happened last time you said those words to me, right?”
She swallowed hard and secured her other boot onto her foot. “Yeah, Lu. I know. I ended up on tour with some hotshot country music singer in tight jeans.”
“And here we go again.”
A LOW whistle greeted her when she got out of the white SUV the label had sent to drive her to the party.
“Well I’ll be. If it isn’t our very own Kylie Ryans.” The manager of the bar stood next to the back entrance, shaking her head.
“Hey, Tonya.” Kylie did her best to exit the vehicle without flashing Tonya her crotch. It was damn near impossible in the entirely-too-short red dress she was wearing.
“Hey, hot stuff. There’s quite a crowd in there. You ready?”
She looked up into Tonya’s eyes as she approached. “Can you really ever be ready for something like this?”
Her friend’s gaze was heavy with sympathy. “Probably not. But on the plus side, you’re a big deal now, right? Equal footing and all that.”
“If you say so.” Kylie was grateful that they were alone. She could feel the blood rushing to her head, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe normally.
“Hey, hon. Seriously. You okay?” Tonya’s sympathetic look morphed into one of concern.
Kylie forced herself to nod as they entered the back of the bar. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Kylie, listen to me. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, shut it out. You are gorgeous, talented, and just as successful as What’s-His-Ass in there. Don’t forget that. You’ve worked hard and you deserve this. So go knock ’em dead.”
“Thanks,” Kylie breathed out. “Tonya, could you maybe grab me a water? With some vodka in it?”
The other woman let out a small laugh. “Yeah, sure. I’ve been manager for a year now. Probably about time I got fired for serving minors.” She stepped into the hospitality room the bar used for media professionals and reached into a cooler. Tonya grabbed a bottle of water, which she handed over without adding anything to it.
The walk down the hallway behind the stage felt like a death march. Kylie’s legs grew heavier with each step. She shook her hands, stretched her neck, and sipped her water—trying to do anything for a distraction.
“So how’s the kiddo?”
At that, a wide grin broke across Tonya’s face. “She’s good. She’s three handfuls but I can’t complain. Starts kindergarten this year.”
“That’s awesome, Tonya.” A smidge of the tightness in her chest loosened. She was happy for her friend. Glad that the woman finally had the life she wanted, the life she and her daughter deserved.
Tonya retrieved her phone from her pocket and pulled up a picture of a little girl with a high ponytail wearing an I heart Kylie Ryans T-shirt.
She grinned at the picture. “Wow, she’s adorable. And she obviously has excellent taste in clothing and music.”
“That she does. Gets it from her mom,” Tonya said with a wink. “Hey, one last thing then I’m turning off my momdar and letting you be.” She stopped walking and placed a hand on Kylie’s shoulder. “You okay, hon? I mean really, really okay? Because you seem…different. And not too-big-for-your-fancy-designer-britches different like I expected. Sad different.”
“I’m still just a girl with a guitar, Tonya. Not much has changed except that people actually pay to hear me sing now.”
Her friend studied her intently. “Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it with some lonely old bar manager with no life of her own to speak of, then I understand. But you could talk to me if you needed to vent. Honestly.”
“Honestly?” Kylie glanced down the empty hall. “Honestly, no. I’m not okay. Honestly I have no idea what I’m doing and I feel like I’ve been playing the ‘fake it till you make it’ game and I can’t do that with him. Every time he looks at me, I feel like he can read my mind or something and I just can’t—”