My previously soured mood lifts as I make my way toward my new client. I only know her first name and that she came in here with a gift certificate. Channing is gorgeous, slim with long blonde hair and wide blue eyes.
“So, are you married?” I ask, noting the small slim band on her finger.
I set my bowls down on the small rolling cart that holds all of my foils, brushes, and supplies to color her hair.
Channing’s eyes grow even rounder and brighter at my question. “I am,” she practically squeals. “This day of beauty pampering was a Mother’s Day gift from my husband,” she gushes.
“Do you have children?” I ask as I begin to separate and pin her hair.
She nods enthusiastically. “I have a little boy, his name is Reese. He’s six months old.” She smiles.
My heart squeezes. She’s young, at least five years younger than I am, if not more. I shouldn’t be jealous, and I’m not, except a little part of me is. I want children. I’ve always wanted them, but it doesn’t look like that’s in the cards for me. I mean, you have to date, fall in love, get married and more importantly, have sex to conceive children.
Unfortunately, none of that looks like it’s coming my way any time soon. With a sigh, I smile and start to immerse myself in doing her hair, asking her a million questions about who she is, where she’s from, who her husband is and demanding to see pictures of her sweet baby boy.
I find out her husband is an apprentice lineman and she’s from Gallup, which is about twenty to thirty minutes away. I hardly ever make my way out there, everything that I need is here in Burnet. But it’s a cute little town with a diner that serves delicious food.
“Do you know Wyatt Johnson? That’s my husband’s cousin.” she asks as I’m finishing the foil on the last bit of her hair.
I frown, tilting my head to the side. “That sounds really familiar,” I say.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight,” I offer.
“Oh, he and Rylan are a few years older than you then. They went to high school here, but they’re thirty-two,” she offers.
I don’t tell her that I was the biggest loner, nerd, and outcast in high school. I don’t explain to her that my Friday nights were not spent at football games, but instead me and Laurie would have beauty nights and bake-offs with one another. I was not only introverted but extremely shy on top of that.
Instead, I smile and shake my head. “Oh yeah, I don’t remember them.”
She frowns, then looks down to her lap before lifting her gaze to mine. “I just thought you might because you said something about Beaumont and they’re all really good friends, even now. He comes into town often.”
I blink, my eyes widening and my mouth dropping slightly. Not because I’m surprised they’re friends with him, but because I’m just now realizing that we were together for a year and I never met even one of his friends, that includes her husband or his cousin. If they’re such great friends now, then they were back then, too.
My stomach twists as her last couple of words sink in. He comes into town often. That hurt from nine years ago bubbles to the surface all over again. I’ve become a professional at not showing my feelings in public when it comes to him.
I smile, changing the subject and continue to make her look and feel beautiful.
BEAUMONT
My manager lifts a brow as he stares at me. I’ve been out of rehab for a total of six months and I feel really great, however, judging by the way he’s watching me, it will probably be short-lived. Daniel can be a bit too intense for me sometimes.
“What?” I sigh heavily.
“We need to do a big comeback tour,” he announces.
Closing my eyes, I lift my hand and pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers. Biting the inside of my cheek, I inhale through my nose and let the breath out the same way. I try to think about anything calming, relaxing.
Anything that isn’t a fucking tour.
“I have no fucking desire to do a comeback anything. I wasn’t really gone in the first place,” I point out.
Daniel rolls his eyes. “The label wants to market it as that. They’re talking about a complete overhaul. They want new music, a new look, all of it. They loved the one-on-one interview you did before you went into treatment, they want more shit like that,” he explains.
“You mean more of me being vulnerable?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
He nods. “Stable, in a serious relationship, a down to earth look. They want something that looks authentic and not like an act.”
“So they want me to act real? This is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” I exhale. “And who do you propose will be my serious relationship, since I’m not currently in one and don’t have a desire for one at the moment?”
He snorts. “You wouldn’t believe me if I said I’ve heard a lot of fucking dumb shit in my years, this isn’t anything new or surprising. Besides, they want to play up your small-town background. The girl can be anyone, but Andi Anderson and you have great chemistry, plus the world loves a celebrity couple. There’s a new proposition for the tour, they’re going to bring it to you, but I already know a little about it,” he rambles.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting forward, deciding to ignore the shit about Andi. That’s never going to happen, not seriously anyway.
“They want to do a set of concerts in extremely small venues, just you, your guitar, and the band at your back. No pyrotechnics, no jumbotrons, one hundred tickets per show only. Staying in each town two or three nights and then moving on to the next, starting in Texas, at your hometown or one of the small ones in the area.”
I don’t react immediately, I place both of my hands, palms down, on the table and breathe. I want a drink right now. I want to drink myself into oblivion so that I can just relax. Forget all of this pressure, this stress that is going to completely take over my life when this shit begins. I don’t. I know that if I start, I won’t be able to stop and it will affect my music, my soul, my life all over again.
“I’ll agree once I see the terms and add some of my own.”
Daniel snorts. “What are your terms?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
“I’m putting a cap on the price of the tickets.” Daniel opens his mouth, but I hold my hand up to stop him from speaking. “My comeback tour,” I spit. “My way. I don’t want people to have to pay five hundred dollars for just one ticket. And, I want my hometown show to be free. I don’t care how you spin it, but that one is free.”
“You’re demanding a fuck’ve a lot,” he mumbles.
I shake my head once. “You and the label have earned quite a nice living off of my back. You can make some concessions for me, for this.”
Regret crosses Daniel’s face, but only for a second. Because men like him don’t really feel remorse, regret, or anything other than greed.
“Also, when you set up the meeting, my attorney will be at my side,” I state.
He narrows his gaze, dipping his chin, then stands to his feet. “Fine,” he barks. I watch as he leaves the room.
Pushing back my chair, I stand as well, but I don’t leave the room. Instead, I make my way over to the large window that looks over the cityscape. The buildings in Los Angeles practically glitter with gold in the sunlight.