Page 1 of Playing With My Heart Strings

prologue

Heart Strings

dusty

one month ago

The conference roomin my record label’s main office crackles with tension. I sit at one end of the long rosewood table, the president of the label sitting at the head, and various other men in suits lining the sides. A meeting with the entire board is rarely a positive thing, but I roll my shoulders and straighten my posture, hoping it gives me the confidence boost I desperately need.

“Gentlemen,” I acknowledge them as my manager Craig follows closely behind, taking a seat at the corner of the table. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” I’m not keen to apologize for my impatience, even as mutters rise through the conference room.

Rob Acerra, president of Ace High Entertainment, stands, and if my tone phases him at all, he doesn’t show it. “As I’m sure we all know, Dusty, your music isn’t hitting the charts like we need it to. You’ve been stagnant, and it’s been weeks since you’ve had a song in the top one hundred. We need you in a better position here.” He stares at me with a steel expression.

“Rob, with all due respect—” Craig starts to protest, but Rob holds up a hand.

“The label has put a lot of thought into this. We don’t believe a solo career is the best move for you.”

I side-eye Craig, my eyebrows pinching in confusion. We assumed the meeting wouldn’t be amazing, but we weren’t expecting anything like this. “What are you suggesting?”

“We think the best move for you, and for the company, is a duo. Think Brooks & Dunn, Johnny Cash and June Carter, Faith Hill and Tim McGraw,” Rob explains. He must see the puzzled look on my face when he mentions only one male duo, because he continues. “Listeners don’t just want anyone in a duo. They want sparks, chemistry.Love.”

Love? What the hell does Rob know about love?

“That’s not really my brand.” I wrinkle my nose a bit. I’m not aloveguy.

“That’s not your brandyet.” Rob smirks. “This is a non-negotiable, Dusty. Either you do what we say, or you’re out.”

Nothing about this was outlined in my contract, and if I’m going to be making better music, the last thing I should be doing is worrying about someone else. Rob can be merciless, though. I’m not gambling with my future, so despite being unconvinced by this new strategy that will supposedly get me topping the charts, I ask, “All right, well, how do you suggest I find my so-called ‘other half,’ then?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He sits, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. “We host a competition of sorts.We allow women to send in their demos then narrow it down to say, thirty, who you will get to listen to. Only you won’t see their faces, just what they sound like. From those thirty, you’ll choose ten who you’d like to get to know better and potentially perform with. See if you have chemistry, on stageandon camera.”

“Hold your horses there, Rob. Cameras?” I interrupt.

“Well, yeah. It’d be televised, of course. Viewersand listenerswill eat this shit up.” He says it like I’m stupid, as though I’m a child being lectured.

“Hmph,” I grumble. “All right, continue.”

“There will be eliminations each week based on your connections. Viewers will also have voting power to save one woman at risk of elimination based on what they see. In the last four weeks, we’ll host live concerts—a mini tour, you could say—and the final woman you choose will not only get a spot at the record label, but you’ll perform together as a duo, record an album, and go on tour.” He smiles as he crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.

“So, what, you want me to be some kind of quasi-country-music Bachelor?” I scratch my head, trying to wrap my mind around this crazy idea.

“Exactly! Now you’re getting it. Like I said earlier, Dusty, this is non-negotiable if you want to stay at Ace High Entertainment.” He shifts forward again, resting his elbows on the table as his expression shifts away from his normally charming attitude to something more…tyrannic. “We’ve already got our thirty women chosen for the show. We start filming in a month.”

1

baylor

Who Needs Twelve Cowboy Hats?

present day

“All right, everyone,listen up!”Colette St. James, the executive producer of the new reality dating show I’m working for, calls out, her sharp demeanor all business. Camera crew members, sound techs, hair and makeup artists, public relations—which includes me—and interns all circle around her. “Our lead will be here this afternoon! We’ll go over logistics and details to ensure filming goes smoothly, then tomorrow we’ll start filming with all the women!”

“She’s so loud,” Daniella Marshall, my best friend and roommate, whispers in my ear, and I cover my mouth to keep quiet. “I’m not sure why she feels the need to scream when we’re all right here.”

“You think she was a drill sergeant in a past life?” I purse my lips to prevent a laugh from slipping out.

“Oh my God, Bay!” Daniella snorts, and all eyes shoot in our direction.

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