Page 4 of Christmas Music
“And to figure out what my next steps are. He’s trying to take full control of the contract. Convince the agents and the studio that he’s the real talent in the band. Cut me out entirely.”
This time, Parker let out a low, surprised whistle. “So you’re here instead of in Nashville fighting because...”
Another fair question. Any girl worth her salt would have been in Nashville, fighting. Parker definitely would have been. And I knew that if I was a responsible, fully adult type of adult, I’d have been doing the same thing. Instead, I’d run for home and the familiarity of streets that I knew like the back of my hand.
“I just couldn’t stay,” I admitted. “He was going on and on about it and I couldn’t get away from him and somewhere along the way...” I bit my lip, biting down—literally—on the words that wanted to come out.
“Somewhere along the way, you started to believe it,” she murmured.
I closed my eyes in relief at not having to say it... and having someone understand anyhow. “Exactly,” I whispered. I lifted the cup and took a gulp—way too big—of gingerbread-flavored coffee, and promptly started coughing.
Parker pounded me on the back until I stopped coughing and then, in true Parker fashion, pulled me right into a hug.
See what I said above about Parker being more of a sister to me than my real sister? Yeah.
When I pulled back, I had myself under control again. “And,” I said on a sigh, “I want to figure out whether I can do this alone. I’ve been with Dean so long that I think I’ve forgotten how.”
To her credit, Parker didn’t even blink an eye at the idea of me suddenly going it alone when my entire reputation was built as part of a duo. It was just one of the things I loved about her. No matter what I said, she acted like I was being completely rational.
Even when I would have admitted myself that I might be insane.
“And you’re also here for the contest,” she concluded.
I jumped, surprised. “Contest?”
Now she looked at me like I actuallyhadlost my mind. “Yes. You know, that contest that’s the only reasonI’mhere?”
Oh.
Oh.
The contest. Arberry and the surrounding area had, over the years, managed to turn out so many country-western artists that some of the biggest studios in the world, Atomic and Drive In, had started an annual contest in town. Every Christmas, would-be singer/songwriters were invited to perform live on Christmas Eve, in the one and only bar in town. The risk: performing live when you had almost no experience.
The prize: a record contract with one of the studios. A head start in the music industry. Your very first tour... and the break you’d probably been waiting for your entire life.
It was why Parker was here, in the town where so many bad things had happened to her. It was Atomic’s turn to host the competition, but the company she worked for, Drive In, had her here to keep an eye on things. Make sure they knew about any additional talent in the area.
Maybe even scoop the talent Atomic was after. Not that she would have admitted that.
Parker was one of Drive In’s up-and-coming managers, and had the smoothest negotiating abilities of anyone I’d ever met. She was also young enough to fit in with almost any crowd. It was no surprise the label had sent her here, to her hometown, to look out for any new talent.
Me? No, I hadn’tintendedto come home for the contest. The truth was, I’d forgotten all about it. After all, I’d thought I already had a recording contract.
But Parker didn’t have to know that.
“Yes,” I told her simply.
The moment I said it, it started making sense. I was here to recover from the breakup and try to decide what to do with my life. But as long as there was a contest going on, and as long as that contest might lead to a new, Dean-free contract with a recording studio...
Yes. If I won that contest, I’d have everything I was looking for. A new contract. New reps, a new manager, a new road forward.
On my own.
I hadn’t planned for it, but now that it was right there, staring me in the face, I knew I wanted that, and I’d fight tooth and nail for it. I’d watched the contest before, when I was younger. I knew the sort of talent this town turned out. But I’d already been in Nashville. I knew what sold, and I knew how to take advantage of what I had to offer.
I could do this.
I spun my bar stool to punctuate the point, feeling both excited and intent on my goal... but stopped suddenly when my legs hit someone standing right behind me. And when I looked up, my mouth already open to shout at whoever had thought standing so close was a good idea, I saw Connor Wheating. The boy who had once saved me from a group of bullies intent on hassling the eighth grader with the flaming red hair...
