Page 92 of Playing With My Heart Strings

I cut right to the chase. “I know you brought Aspen to Atlanta. I know you had her reveal my identity to the world. What I don’t know iswhyyou did it.”

“You wereneversupposed to make it this far, Baylor. That wasnotthe plan, and you know it.” Her words bite, their poison dripping into my veins. “I had to do what was best for the company.”

“But you never planned on letting me keep my job. You said it would be career-ending if anyone found out.”

“Your career ended when you started sneaking around with Dusty Wilder,” she snaps. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell Aspen to reveal to the whole world that you’ve been sleeping with him. But that wouldn’t only make us look bad. It would ruin Ace High Entertainment’s reputation, too, and they’re paying us good money to put on this show.”

“So that’s what this is about? Money?”

Colette scoffs. “Foolish girl. Rob Acerra doesn’t want someone like you at their label. You were never the first choice. And it’s only a matter of time before Dusty sees that you’re not fit for this. You’ll never be good enough. The ideal scenario was for the viewers to vote you off in Atlanta, but after this week, I’m almost certain you’ll be done. Then you can crawl back to your hometown, because no public relations firm is going to want you after this nightmare.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Why did you let me get this far, then? Why not just kick me off the show?”

Her eyes roll toward the ceiling in a dramatic display. “The viewers would have questioned it. You were too much of a fan-favorite. But, Baylor, honey, the viewers can’t help you now. It’s up to Dusty, and judging by the dates this week, it’s clear he doesn’t want anything to do with you.” She turns her back to me, heading deeper into the room. “Don’t let the door slam on the way out. Enjoy the rest of your time here, because the minute he lets you go, you’re done.”

I bite my lip, trying not to let frustration get the better of me. Crying in front of Colette would only make things worse. “You’re wrong, by the way. Coming on the show may have just been a safeguard for my job in the beginning, but you have no idea how Dusty feels. How I feel. I’m going to prove it to you. You’ll see.” Even if it’s not true, and I end up going home—because as muchas I hate to admit it, Katherine or Valerie are the more ideal choices—I’m not just going to lie down and let Colette walk all over me.

I don’t let her get another word in before I walk out of her room and head down the hall, but not in the direction of my room.

I have one last person I need to talk to.

“I have an idea, but I need your help,” I say when the door opens before explaining all the details.

Charlie smiles. “I always knew I liked you. Come on in, we’ve got work to do.”

the confessionals

Dusty:I have a huge decision to make tomorrow.

He places his head in his hands, visibly distressed.

Producer:Yes, you do.

Dusty:I have no idea what I’m going to do.

Producer:What are your thoughts on Baylor still being here?

Katherine:I’m not answering that, respectfully. Baylor may not have come on the show for the right intentions, but she’s still my friend. And we don’t know her side of the story, so I’m not going to speculate just for drama.

The camera picks up another producer off camera talking in a hushed voice saying,“We can cut it so it sounds like she’s accusing Baylor of not coming on the show for the right reasons.”

Another producer responds,“That’s too risky. We can’t have the viewers hating her. Not with the current objective.”

38

dusty

Unpopular Choice

We have a sold-out arena tonight.A little under fifteen thousand people will be in attendance to watch me make one of the most important decisions of my career, not to mention the millions of people at home. I didn’t watch the opening song. Seeing Baylor around the hotel and at rehearsal was hard enough, but watching her sing is like having my heart ripped out and stomped on.

I know I’ll have to watch her solo tonight, but I want to prolong this sense of security as long as possible. I just know once I hear her sing alone on stage, all the defenses I built up during this week apart from her will break down. I need to have a clear head to make my choice.

The TV in my makeshift dressing room displays Jarrod talking on stage, which means I’ll be going on soon. Adjusting my pearl snap shirt one last time, I open the door to a wide-eyed Baylor.

“Dusty…” she whispers.

If I don’t walk away, I’ll kiss her. I’ll pull her in and miss my cue. So, I do what Dusty Wilder, the famous country singer, would do and brush past her.

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