Music City Dreamers Read online

  Heather glanced at Louie’s crotch and nodded. “I know.” She opened the door and escaped into the corridor. I’m not sure I can say the same.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Louie’s first day writing for Savana had disappeared far faster than she had wanted it to. Savana’s absence had created a more relaxed atmosphere, and she’d enjoyed getting to know Tim and Vetti. Spending more time with Heather had been a bonus too. She’d suggested they round the day off with coffee at a place called Anti Bean just around the corner from Rocky Top. Thankfully, Tim had to rush home for a hot date with Emma, and Vetti had to get home to her cat, leaving Louie and Heather on their own.

  Louie shifted in her seat, unable to decide whether to tuck a leg under her ass or stretch her legs out under the table. She enjoyed taking up more space than she needed, usually something reserved for men. She hated that women were almost taught to disappear and take up as little space as possible. Heather returned from the restroom looking like she’d refreshed her makeup. It might not have been for Louie’s benefit, but she wanted it to be. She resisted the urge to comment on how beautiful Heather looked, conscious they were here under the guise of business colleagues winding down after a big day. She didn’t want the day to end abruptly or to push her luck. If Heather needed time to figure out how this was going to work, Louie would have to relax and wait.

  “I’ve ordered your hot milk,” Louie said.

  Heather laughed. “And your sludge?”

  Louie nodded. “Are you happy with how today went?” She wanted Heather’s approval on the progress she’d made with Savana’s ideas.

  “Absolutely. I think Savana will be thrilled.”

  Heather looked beyond Louie and around the vast space. Louie had chosen a spot away from the stairs and in the far corner of the first floor. It wasn’t particularly busy, but Louie felt Heather’s discomfort. She couldn’t imagine how exhausting it was to be so acutely aware of the need to hide. Again, she withheld a comment.

  “I really enjoyed watching you work,” Heather said quietly.

  Louie ran her hand through her hair and couldn’t hold Heather’s gaze. Her intensity bore into Louie’s soul. “Really? Why?”

  “Your hands. Your eyes. Everything about you was just totally absorbed in the art of creation. It was a joy to witness.”

  Louie saw the waitress come up the stairs and waited until she’d placed their drinks on the table and gone before she responded. “That’s the way it’s always worked for me. Everything else softens and goes out of focus.” She took a sip of her coffee and sighed. “This is really good coffee.” She wanted to say that Heather remained sharp in her vision while she was writing but opted for a funny comment instead. “Shame you won’t taste it.”

  “I can’t help liking it the way I do…I can’t help liking you the way I do,” Heather said and averted her eyes.

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Louie pushed her phone around the table, anything to stop herself from reaching for Heather’s hands. “I liked your text last night.”

  Heather gave a short laugh. “That wasn’t me. It was Emma. I don’t do text speak. It offends the grammar policewoman in me.”

  Louie sat back in her chair. The revelation was a sharp gut punch.

  “But I would’ve said the same thing if I’d had the courage,” Heather said.

  Louie perked up and leaned forward again. “What are we doing?”

  Heather pulled her cup closer and inspected the contents as if it were the most interesting thing on earth. “Following our hearts?”

  Louie swallowed hard. She wanted this. But she couldn’t pull Heather close to her, couldn’t move to kiss her. This was more than being discreet. This was restriction on her freedom to express her feelings. “What about being professional?” Louie asked.

  “I’m not saying we should start dating yet. But there’s nothing to keep us from getting to know each other better, is there? Maybe we’ll find out we don’t have much in common and shouldn’t bother going any further.”

  Heather laughed, but her eyes were serious and searching. Her vulnerability radiated from her, and Louie’s desire to hold her deepened.

  “That seems unlikely.” Louie picked up her coffee but didn’t drink. “I want to see where this might go, Heather, I really do.” And she hoped she could handle being in the closet. Heather had all but promised it wouldn’t be forever. Why was Louie thinking about forever already anyway? “Okay, quick-fire round: tell me about your family.” It seemed like a good place to start.

  Heather rolled her eyes. “God, really? I’m a disappointment to my mother. My father’s spineless. My younger brother is the family golden child. That’s me done. You?”

  “That’s not nearly enough information. How could your mother not be proud of what you’ve achieved here?”

  Heather shook her head. “You said quick-fire.”

  “I didn’t mean that quick.”

  “Now you’re changing the rules?” Heather asked.

  “They’re my rules. I get to change them as much as I want.” Louie winked and took a mouthful of coffee.

  “That’s the way this is gonna go, is it? Fine. No, Mommy dearest is not proud of me. I came to Nashville to be a singer and I failed. She wanted me to be a teacher like her and Dad and always thought music was a waste of time. I put off speaking to her because she asks when I’m giving all of this up and coming home every single time.”

  Heather leaned back in her seat and ran her hand through her hair. Her eyes were full of tears, and Louie’s heart ached for pressing her for more detail. But it made her even more grateful for her own mom. She wanted to hold Heather tight and tell her that her mom was an ass for not loving everything about her daughter. But there was no way Heather would let her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

  Heather took a Kleenex from her purse and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. “I think you like to see me cry. This is the second time. Distract me and tell me about your family.”

  Telling Heather about her mom seemed particularly cruel. “My dad left my mom as soon as she became pregnant. My grandparents were assholes and never let Mom forget she failed to keep her man. I’m an only child, and my mom miscarried what would’ve been my big brother.”

  “Now you’ve made it a pity competition.”

  Heather smiled genuinely, and it lifted Louie’s spirit. Could it be possible that she was even more beautiful when she smiled? “You’ve already won my heart. I can’t have you winning everything.”

  “Your heart? You fall in love that easy?” Heather asked.

  Louie wagged her finger. “I didn’t say I was in love with you. That would be crazy. You’re in my heart, that’s all. Like Gabe.” Louie should have been able to rattle off a list of friends, but there was no one else. The realization sank heavily in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it away. “You were the one that said we were following our hearts.”

  “Whoa there, Miss Blamey Pants. I was teasing. But what was it Shakespeare said about protesting too much?”

  “I have no idea,” Louie lied. “English was never my favorite subject. I used to skip it and sneak into the music rooms for extra guitar practice. Next question: who was your first TV crush?” Louie watched as Heather looked up to the sky as if searching for the answer. Heather may have been teasing about falling in love, but the more time Louie spent with her, the more she could easily see it happening.

  ***

  Louie swept open the front door. Gabe sat on the sofa with his guitar playing a song she didn’t recognize. “I need a cold shower.” She pushed the door closed with her foot, placed her guitar on the floor, and dropped her keys on the table.

  “Heather King?” Gabe grinned and nodded, somehow managing to look understanding and jealous at the same time.

  “Heather King.” Louie wandered past him toward her room.

  Gabe spun around on his seat and hung over the back of the sofa. “Wait, what? That’s all I get? I
want details.”

  “And I told you, I need a cold shower. You’ll get details when I’m done.” She pulled her bedroom door closed, stripped off her clothes, and padded into the bathroom. The marble tile cooled her feet but did nothing to cool her ardor. She turned on the shower, and without waiting for it to warm fully, she stepped into the bath and pulled the curtain across. She bent her head directly underneath the showerhead and enjoyed the powerfully prodding needles massaging her scalp. Louie closed her eyes and pictured Heather in her graphite-gray power suit. She loved a woman with the quintessential Marilyn Monroe hourglass figure. And the heels Heather wore practically made love to the carpet as they walked across it. They were so sexy and made Louie look at the fetish of having a woman in stilettos walk across your chest in an entirely fresh light.

  She rolled her neck, grabbed her shower gel, and foamed up. Heather had relaxed considerably after their last meeting, and their intimate discussion over coffee had Louie tumbling into dangerous, deepening feelings kind of territory. She respected Heather’s professionalism and insistence on not doing anything about their attraction until they stopped working together. At least Heather seemed relatively comfortable about them getting to know each other more in the meantime.

  Louie recalled her thought process in selecting a seat at Anti Bean. She’d never considered the proximity of other people before, but Heather’s need for discretion had already rubbed off on Louie. She wasn’t at ease with it yet. She wasn’t sure she ever would be. She had as much right to be proud of who she was as the next person. The next straight person. Louie wondered what her mom would make of Heather’s need to be in the closet for the sake of her career. She’d be furious, Louie was certain. But she didn’t get it. She didn’t understand the things you have to think about when you’re gay, the places you can’t visit in the world because your sexuality is illegal, the places in the states where kissing your girlfriend could get you hospitalized. Her mom only saw the person, not the sexuality. And she’d raised Louie to stick her middle finger up at anyone who thought otherwise.

  Being around Heather, wanting to be with Heather, forced Louie into considering another perspective. Louie knew she’d been lucky, having a mom who accepted and encouraged all of her. Heather hadn’t had the same experience. Her family saw her as a disappointment. There was little wonder that she seemed to feel guilty about being a lesbian.

  Louie switched her thoughts back to the album. A month had never stretched so far into the distance as the one she now faced, but she had no intention of rushing her process. The songs would take as long as they took, and from what she’d managed to glean from Heather and Tim, Savana might be a more difficult taskmistress than she’d initially presented as, and it could take longer than a month. Working with other creatives could often be challenging if visions didn’t align, but Savana had seemed pretty certain Louie was the writer for her, so she’d just have to see how things played out.

  And though the day had been pure sexual torture—the glimpses of Heather’s cleavage and the number of times she’d had to watch Heather’s ass swish from side to side like a mesmerizing metronome—just being with her had been wonderful. In between intense bouts of writing, they’d laughed and shared silly stories, and Louie felt like Heather was beginning to let her in. Tim was a nice guy, too, but it had surprised her when it turned out he was seeing Heather’s friend Emma who she’d seen perform at the Bluebird on the same night she and Heather first met. She hadn’t seemed like a settle-down kind of woman, but the way Tim talked about her, he clearly worshipped her like the goddess she looked like, and he saw the rest of his life with her. More than once, she’d seen Heather make a variety of faces that indicated Tim should slow down, and Louie heard her say as much over a couple of Krispy Kremes. Louie had avoided those doughy balls of heaven—she wanted to lose the little belly she’d become aware of over the past week. Tim had been disarmingly open, and although he wasn’t classically good-looking, Louie could see why Emma liked him.

  Louie began to sluice off, and as she directed the water between her legs, she rubbed her fingers across her clit and jumped slightly at how sensitive she was feeling. It was no shocker. She hadn’t gotten off since leaving Chicago, and given the day of stimulation she’d had in the form of Heather, she kind of expected she might explode if she didn’t give herself a release soon. She lay down in the tub so that the water still fell on her body, positioned her left leg over the side, and closed her eyes.

  ***

  “I thought you’d fallen asleep in there. That was the longest shower in history, buddy.”

  Louie shrugged. Some things were never for sharing with friends. “Told you I needed it. That and a beer. Do you want one?”

  “Sure.”

  When she got back from the kitchen and handed him a cold one, he clinked her bottle with his.

  “Are we celebrating or commiserating?” he asked and took a long swig.

  “Both.” Louie dropped onto the sofa beside him and ran her hand along the back of her head, glad she’d managed to get in a visit to Gabe’s stylist yesterday. She’d gone a grade lower than usual around the back and sides, and it felt satisfyingly prickly to the touch. Heather had commented on how much she liked it, but Louie had held back the offer for her to feel it, fully aware she would’ve declined for fear of being seen.

  Gabe slid his guitar onto the floor and leaned back into the corner of the couch. “How so?”

  Louie held her beer to her forehead and enjoyed the chilled droplets against her skin, her blood still running hot with filthy thoughts of Heather. “It was a great writing day. I got one song almost finished and the bare bones of two others pulled together.”

  “And Savana’s happy with them, yeah?”

  “That’s the other part of my day. Savana wasn’t there so I spent the whole time with Heather and two other execs. Ten hours in a room with her, and I couldn’t touch or kiss her. It was agony, Gabe, pure agony.”

  “Aw, poor Louie, having to spend all day with a beautiful woman. What’s this? What’s this?” Gabe ran his index finger back and forth over his thumb.

  “I have no idea what you’re doing. What the hell is that?”

  “It’s the smallest violin in the world…playing just for you,” Gabe said.

  Louie picked up a cushion and threw it at his face. “You can be such an idiot.”

  He grinned and puffed out his chest. “But you love me anyway.”

  Louie couldn’t argue with that; he was adorable. “I’m just sticking around until you’re a big country star with millions of dollars in the bank. Then you can keep me in Twinkies and Pop Tarts, and I’ll never have to work again.” She motioned toward his laptop on the table. “Speaking of which, how’s your video doing?”

  Gabe bounced off the sofa and grabbed his computer. “I had about a hundred views and a few shares when I looked this morning before I went to work. I haven’t checked since ’cause on the way home, I got this tune in my head, and I’ve been working on it since I got back.” He booted up and opened the web browser.

  “That’s a great number for less than twelve hours, little bro.”

  He looked up at her and smiled with a sincerity that tucked up her heart in a winter comforter. In the time she’d spent alone in Chicago, she hadn’t realized how lonely she’d felt, even though she was barely ever alone. Now that she lived with Gabe, their easy friendship meant more to her each day.

  “Whoa…” Gabe turned the screen toward Louie and pointed at it.

  She scanned up to the top right-hand corner and read the stats. “Whoa is right. Sixty-five shares and nineteen hundred views. That’s amazing.” She grabbed his shoulder and shook him, unable to contain her excitement.

  “Look at the likes, Louie, nearly two thousand…people think I’m okay.”

  Louie smiled at Gabe’s open vulnerability. If only he understood how great his talent was. Maybe all his Facebook friends would prove it to him, and their plan really would work ou
t the way they hoped. “They’d have to be deaf not to. You’re a fantastic singer.”

  Gabe placed his laptop on the table and turned back to Louie. “Can we do another video tonight? I’ve been thinking I could do ‘Perfect Storm.’ It’s one of my favorite love songs ever.”

  Louie glanced at wall clock. It was just after ten, and Savana didn’t want to start until late the next morning. “Do you need to practice or do you think you’ll be able to do it in one take?”

  “Erm…Oh crap, I almost forgot. Mia came into work today and asked for you to call her on her cell tonight. Crap. Sorry, Lou.”

  “I have to do that now, Gabe. You practice the song, and we’ll do it when I’m done.” Louie picked up her phone, dialed Mia’s number, and headed to her bedroom for some privacy. She closed the door behind her as Mia answered.

  “Hey, Mia.”

  “Louie Francis. I heard you were in town. I was beginning to think you might never make it on your own.”

  The sound of Mia’s husky tones caught Louie by surprise. She’d expected her to be cold and harsh, but instead she spoke like they were still lovers. “You want to know what I heard?”

  “I do. Why don’t you come and tell me all about it at Patterson’s in Midtown?”

  Louie rubbed at the back of her head—hard. Mia’s attitude confused the hell out of her. She was acting as though everything was all right between the two of them. “Sure. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Mia replied and hung up.

  “Shit.” Louie hastily pulled on a fresh shirt and jeans and styled her hair. She pulled her hair this way and that to get it just right but stopped when she realized she was making too much effort. She went back out to Gabe. “I have to meet Mia.” She ignored his raised eyebrow. “If you wait up, we can do the video when I get back, and you can pick up the pieces from whatever mess this is going to leave me in.”