Dang. Mick really does know how the game is played. I guess you couldn’t be in Nashville as long as he has without learning all the pitfalls.
“Six months,” Tana offers. “And it’s not like when our managers hooked us up. JC doesn’t seem to care either way if he hurts Holly’s career.”
I swivel my head around to stare at Tana. “I didn’t know that you . . .” I glance back to Mick. “Really? Your relationship started out as a publicity stunt?”
Tana laughs. “Of course it did. Why else do you think I’d get involved with such a man-whore? I needed some street cred, and he was getting all the wrong kinds of press for sleeping with everything with tits.”
“Jesus, baby. That’s ancient history—and we kept that shit quiet for a reason.”
“I’m just saying that sometimes it actually works out fine,” Tana says.
Mick shakes his head. “Back to the point of this conversation.” Aiming his stare at me, he continues. “You could be fucked in six months if JC keeps this shit up. You’ve got sympathy on your side right now, but if you keep laying down and taking it, you’re just going to look like a fool.”
Tana slaps his thigh again. “Not helping.”
Her husband reaches down and grabs her hand. “Quit, woman, or I’ll spank your ass even harder tonight.”
Tana’s face flushes a bright red, and I decide to let the comment go without trying to figure out exactly what they’re talking about.
Mick releases her hand and grabs the magazine shoved between the wine bottles. “This the rag with the cheating dick?”
Shaking her head, Tana grabs it from his hand. “Nope, that’s the one with the hot billionaire dick I’m going to marry if you decide to leave me for some country starlet.”
I catch a glimpse of the cover. It’s a copy of Forbes, and there’s a stupidly handsome dark-haired man on the cover.
The headline reads: CREIGHTON KARAS CRUSHES COMPETITION.
“What are you talking about, woman? You’d bury me out back if I so much as looked at another woman,” Mick grumbles.
Tana’s lyrical laugh echoes off the walls. “Damn right, and don’t you forget it.”
I snatch the magazine out of his hand to get a closer look.
“Whoa, girl. Calm down.”
I wave him off, the wine dulling the instincts that would otherwise have me continuing to bow and scrape in his country-music royalty presence.
“Shhh. I need to look at him.” I’m not sure why I need silence to do that, but apparently the large bottle of wine I drank says I do.
The man is gorgeous, but he looks cocky and arrogant. I flip the magazine open and page through it until I find another picture of him.
I win because losing isn’t an option.
—Creighton Karas
I know I’m truly drunk when the only thought filtering through my brain is how much I’d like to be his prize when he’s winning. Where the hell did that come from? And like I’d even know what to do with a man like that. He’s so far out of my league, it’s not even funny.
I glance over at Mick and Tana, who are once again locked in a tangle of lips and limbs.
And . . . that’s my cue to leave.
I slap the magazine shut and rise on shaky legs. “I should probably get going.”
Tana pulls away from Mick and raises an eyebrow in my direction. “Honey, you ain’t driving anywhere. I’ll go make up a guest room. It’s the very least I can do since I got you shitfaced.”
“Not necessary. I should get home. I have . . . a plant that needs water. Or something.”
I squint because I can’t remember if my plant is dead or alive. I haven’t watered it in as long as I can remember. Apparently I’m thinking too hard about plants, which might be alive or dead, and not concentrating on my balance because I tip forward.
Mick catches me with an outstretched palm. “Come on, honey. We’re putting you up tonight. Won’t hear anything different.”
He turns me around and marches me toward the door that leads into the sprawling mansion. “Besides, it seems like someone needs to take you under their wing so you don’t get chewed up and spit out by this bitch of an industry. My wife isn’t exactly the type to bring home strays, so she must’ve seen something in you needing a little protection. We’re gonna make sure you have it.”
My eyes burn, and I blink back the unexpected tears. I’ve been in this town for six months, essentially friendless, and in one night I’ve apparently been adopted by two people I never thought I would ever have a chance to meet.
“G’night, Holly. I’ll see you in the morning, sweets,” Tana calls from behind me.
Apart from those blissful moments standing onstage, for the first time in months I have a genuine smile on my face, and I feel like I belong somewhere.
It doesn’t last long.
“We’ll put your ass on a bus back to Podunk if you don’t toe the line, Wix. That bowling alley you used to sing at? They won’t even let you back onstage when I’m done tearing you apart,” Morty, the jerk-off record exec, rails at me in the conference room of Homegrown Records.
It’s been two months since the night I met Tana, and JC has managed to land in the paper three more times. I can’t let this stand any longer. I’ve officially become the laughingstock of Nashville, and I can’t take any more pitying looks from the guys on my tour.
When the bus pulled into town this morning, I went directly to Tana’s house first. We’ve kept in touch, and every time I’ve been back in town on a break, she’s made time to get together. It’s the first real friendship I’ve had since Mary Jane Devo married her Marine sweetheart and moved to Hawaii almost two years ago.