Page 56 of Banter & Blushes

She laughs. “Oh yeah, I forget it’s this way.”

Her family owns tons of property around here, and she’s lived at the beach her entire life. But I keep that to myself. Best not harass the person driving my life savings—and my life.

Genesis turns on two wheels, tires squealing. I grab the “oh crap” bar near my window and hold my breath. Temporary gates appear with signs designating filming locations.

She slows when we come to the main gate, and an important-looking guy walks to her window. I lean over to talk as soon as she rolls it down. “Hi, Tiffany Rivers with The Sandbar. We’re here for catering.”

“Perfect. Once we open this gate, you can go to the left. There will be a spot for catering and craft services.”

I yell, “Thank you,” as he unlocks the gate.

Genesis drives at an acceptable speed and finds the “Craft Services” sign. “We’re not doing crafts, are we?”

I laugh. “No. That was how the snack-foods service was listed in my contract. I assume it’s showbiz lingo.”

She shrugs. “Who is this video for?”

“Colt Stallion.”

“Never heard of him.” She scrunches her nose as she parks the truck.

“Neither have I. He’s a new country singer recording his first music video.”

“Cool.” Genesis pops a piece of gum in her mouth and hops out.

I go through the back, straightening whatever fell when she abruptly jerked us into drive. Then I open the back door and pause before stepping out.

“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Genesis lifts her sunglasses and leans closer to me.

I’m frozen in the back of the truck, wondering if I really see what—or whom—I think I see.

Across the parking lot is a tent set up with a trailer beside it. People enter and exit with clothing and makeup brushes. One person in particular is in a plain white T-shirt and worn jeans. Same as he used to dress.

If that is, in fact, him.

Genesis follows my eyes to the guy sitting in a lawn chair under the tent. “Oh, he is nice looking. A little too fresh off the farm for my taste, but I get how you would like that.”

He stands and reaches inside the trailer. I turn and open the truck window. Then I busy myself gathering snacks to set across the counter for people to grab. Genesis joins me, whistling the Kenny Chesney song playing earlier. We work side by side in silence, except for her off-key tune. She stops when a guitar starts strumming nearby. It’s followed by a voice that causes me to drop the open bag of tortilla chips I’m holding.

“Whoa. Let me get that.” Genesis grabs the broom before I can move.

Midway through cleaning the mess, she stares at me. “Something is clearly wrong with you, Tiff. You hardly ever make a mess, much less leave it there.” She pushes the broom aside. “What’s wrong?”

I suck in a deep breath and listen a little longer to make sure I’m not crazy. The guy hits a note with such a twang that it couldn’t be anyone else. I blink at Genesis. “That guy is my ex-boyfriend.”

CHAPTER 2

COLT

Ising the last note and clear my throat. My nerves are trying to get the best of me.

Good thing I don’t have to perform live for the video. They explained that I’ll be singing some for shots, but don’t have to go full-blown with my voice. The editor will cover it with my studio recordings from earlier.

I set my guitar inside the trailer and head across the parking lot. The bright blue truck with a palm tree has to have water. Or maybe not, since it’s called The Sandbar. But it is our food vendor. I at least know that much from the paperwork.

And this technically isn’t my first rodeo. I filmed a full day of background scenes once for a music video, playing my guitar with The Rolling Rocks. Not a very clever name, but they started as a Rolling Stones cover band. I helped write a few originals for JD, the lead singer.

But my personal style is more traditional county, and they are straight-up Southern rock. Putting my own solo work out there is a big step, and I’m halfway thinking it might’ve been a bad idea.

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