Page 16 of Love on Tour
“Not to me.” Christine stood and took their plates to the kitchen.
Julianna followed. She leaned against the kitchen cabinet and stared at Christine. “I know you had a bad experience in high school that you never want to talk about. And I respect that. I really do. But it’s been more than a decade. Maybe talking would help.”
Christine threw her head back and looked at the ceiling before looking at Julianna. “A couple of guys, big guys, harassed me one night. One of them, well . . . he was very aggressive.” Christine turned away and washed her hands, trying to stall so she could think about how to word what had happened.
“Aggressive how?” Julianna asked, touching Christine’s shoulder and turning her back around.
“He grabbed me and kissed me. He squeezed my breast, hard, then my butt. He . . . I really don’t want to talk about this.” Her eyes misted. She blinked to clear them.
“Did you talk to your parents? A school counselor?” Julianna asked.
“Heck no. That would have made it worse. I just had to survive the last few months of high school and get out of there. I told a few people in college. Most just shrugged it off as ‘guys will be guys.’ One or two girls seemed to understand how I felt.”
“Christine. You were sexually assaulted. That’s not something guys just do. Most guys wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing.”
“I know they wouldn’t. And it wasn’t a sexual assault. I had my clothes on. Nothing happened.”
“Seriously? Is that what you’ve been telling yourself whiledeep down knowing differently? He touched you, Christine. In places he shouldn’t have. He forced himself on you.”
Christine took a deep breath. “I know. But it was before #metoo went viral and I thought it was just me. Like it would never happen to someone prettier or cooler than me. It was easier to not think about it and hope the memory would go away.”
“But it didn’t go away.”
“No. It didn’t. It never does. The reason I don’t like being called Chrissy? They chanted at me, ‘Chrissy is a sissy; Chrissy is a sissy.’ It became the chant of the high school anytime I walked by a group of people who didn’t like me. I’m getting used to Austin calling me that, and in some ways, it’s starting to help heal the pain. But the memories are always there.”
“Christine, I don’t even know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. Moving on to another conversation, as I’d like this one to be over . . . I have not called dibsies. Have at it. I just want him for his talent. The truth is . . .”
“Yes?” Julianna said.
“I can’t stop thinking about his tour manager, Matt.”
“So, even after more time with Austin, you’re still interested in his tour manager? Seriously? You have a shot at the hottest guy in Nashville,” Julianna said.
“I think Matt’s hotter.”
“Then go for it,” Julianna said, holding up her hands and shrugging.
“Not that easy. Risk versus reward. He might not like me and then I’ve embarrassed myself and potentially messed things up with Austin. Then I lose on both fronts,” Christine said.
“Or, Matt likes you, you start dating, it solidifies your relationship with Austin, and you win on both fronts.”
Christine grabbed her head with both hands. “This is making my head hurt. And that horrific stroll down memory lane didn’t help either. Mind if we call it a night?”
“Not at all. I’m sorry to dredge up the painful past. But I’m kind of excited to think about your crush on Matt. This could be fun,” Julianna said.
“Or not. Unrequited crushes suck,” Christine said.
“True. But we don’t know that it’s unrequited. I’ll see you tomorrow at work. And remember, I’m a phone call away. In good times and bad.”
“Thank you.” Christine hugged Julianna, and Julianna hung on for a second longer than usual. “Love you,” Julianna said.
“Love you, too.”
While rinsing out their glasses, Christine thought about how her life had changed since high school. As a kid, she had fantasized about working with songwriters in Nashville. She’d beg her parents to take her to every country concert that came to their local theatre. She’d google every song she liked to see who’d written it. She got to where she could listen to a song on the radio and name the writer without even looking. She understood their musical and lyrical styles. Even when she worked in promotions at a radio station, a job she’d gotten right out of college and loved, she knew it wasn’t her true calling. She’d even convinced the station manager to put on songwriter nights, and twice a year, she’d hosted a Nashville songwriter’s concert. The audience loved hearing the songs from the perspective of the people who’d created them.
A songwriter she knew had tipped her off to an opening for an entry-level position at Hit Songs Publishing. She applied and they made her an offer. Two weeks later, she packed her bags and left for Music City. She could still remember her first time walking down Music Row and looking at the huge MCA Records sign, the Warner Records building, and the Starstruck Entertainment offices. As she entered the building for Hit Songs Publishing, she’d closed her eyes and told herself to always remember that moment. It was a dream come true. She’d spent years buildinga life for herself and was proud of what she’d accomplished. But she did want someone to share it with. She just didn’t want to waste her time with the wrong men. She had tried that a couple of times in college, attempting to make something fit that wasn’t right. She’d been left feeling empty and regretful. She wanted a man, but she didn’tneeda man.
