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  Heather pushed away from the door and headed upstairs for a quick shower before bed. “I’m ready for this.” She said the words out loud in an effort to make them more believable. This was what she wanted, and she’d give it everything she had. Nothing, and no one, was going to stop her from fulfilling her dream.

  Chapter Five

  Louie parked curbside at her apartment and grinned as she locked her truck. My truck. She’d never owned a vehicle in her life until now, and it felt as good as she thought it might. It might not be a Jeep Wrangler, but she believed she’d be able to buy one with her first six-figure royalty check. When she’d finally driven off after the stupidly long two-hour registration process, Louie knew a house would be that first purchase, not a Jeep. She wanted roots, a home, a place she could finally call her own. And she wanted her mom to join her—in her own place of course. They were close, but sharing a house with her mom wouldn’t exactly be a lady magnet. Not that love was any kind of priority. Mia had been an experience she wasn’t rushing to repeat, and unless she made it big, Louie expected that no one would be interested in poor white trash. Nope. She knew she’d have to make her fortune before she had anything to offer any woman of substance.

  She unlocked the main entry door to her building and jogged up to her second-floor apartment. Louie closed the door behind her and looked around. She’d lived there for two years but almost everything she owned would fit in the bright orange duffel bag her mom had bought her four years ago in an effort to encourage her to pack up and follow her dream. Louie had left it in its plastic wrapping for nearly two years before Mia finally convinced her to go to Nashville via Chicago.

  Louie pulled the bag from her closet and quickly emptied her drawers and single closet into it. She had more than she’d come to this city with but not much more. Mia had taken everything they had of value other than the Les Paul ES 335 her mom had saved up for and bought from a pawnshop. And that hadn’t been for lack of trying. Louie pushed away the invasive thoughts of Mia once more. Since she’d hit the magic five thousand dollar target and decided to head to Nashville, she’d been thinking about Mia way too much. She’d spent enough time in the six months after Mia had left her thinking about how she could’ve done things differently. Had she done something to push Mia away? Had Mia gotten herself into trouble and needed their money to get out of it? Why hadn’t Mia just talked to her? Louie shook her head and slammed her last belt into the bag, skinning the top of her fingers on the sharp buckle edge. Fuck. Mia should’ve been the one coming back to her, not the other way around. Let it go. She thought she had. Louie was certain she didn’t have any residual feelings for Mia other than resentment. She’d been a doormat and given her everything she ever asked for. Louie knew it was a possibility, but she hoped their paths wouldn’t have to cross in Nashville.

  Louie placed her prize possession in its hard case and locked the clips in place. The guitar would have a seat up front with her. She got to her hands and knees and pulled a battered shoe box from beneath the bed. Out of habit, she rolled the elastic band from it, flipped off the lid, and ran her fingers over its contents; the cardboard spines of nearly twenty journals with her songs in them. She was grateful Mia hadn’t considered plagiarism as another acceptable action when she left with everything else that belonged to Louie.

  She wasn’t sure what it said about her that she was able to pack up the past two years of her life in less than an hour but decided not to analyze it. Sometimes ignorance could be a good thing. Louie dragged a plastic box from her now empty closet and placed the rest of her stuff in it. A few books, her bag of toiletries from the bathroom, her laptop, and various electric cables she wasn’t sure she needed but felt like she should pack them just in case. She turned around to face the paltry bookcase she’d made from a couple of storage pallets she’d found in an alley. Louie didn’t have a handsaw, but with a few nails and a hammer, she’d managed to pull something together that did the job. The few people she’d had over to visit applauded her re-purposing. Louie just wished she could’ve afforded to buy some decent shelves. She took the frame of her and her mom down and placed it on top of the rest of the things in the box, before closing and sealing it.

  “I’m doing it, Mom. I’m finally doing it.”

  She swallowed the rising bubble of emotion and headed to the kitchen to pack up a small box of supplies. She ignored the not-so-quiet voice telling her this was a mistake and that she should stick to what she was good at in the WoodBack. Once a gutter rat, always a gutter rat. She rubbed her forehead hard before opening the fridge to discover it was void of anything useful other than a couple of sodas and an energy drink that would get her fifty miles before she’d have to stop to pee. One cupboard yielded a half-full box of almost out of date pumpkin cereal bars, and another gave up a bag of ridged chips, a pack of cherry Twizzlers, and some caramel M&Ms. Perfect road trip nibbles. She tossed them all into the box and glanced around. Everything she owned fit on the double bed in the center of the studio. She grinned and grabbed her duffel bag. “Let’s do this.”

  It only took Louie two trips to pack her shiny new ride before she sank onto the bed and pulled out her phone to email the manager at the WoodBack. She’d often talked about her plans to Terry, and she’d encouraged them, telling Louie that one day, she’d make it. Terry would be the perfect person to pass the news on to Frankie and ensure there was no comeback.

  Terry, I’m finally giving it a go. I’m packing up and heading to Nashville, just like I’ve always dreamed about. Thanks for your support and for giving me a job that’s helped me save up to do this. I hope you’ll forgive me for not working a notice period, but I just know that if I tried to do that, I’d end up not leaving. Take care. Louie.

  Louie took a deep breath and a final look around the four walls she’d called home for the past two years. There was no residual sadness, and her heart wasn’t heavy with dread. She smirked; her give-a-damn was busted. If it were possible, her heart was bouncing. The voice in her head telling her she’d be found out, that she was a fraud, and it would only be a matter of time before she headed home to her mom with her dreams splintered like wood on a lumberjack’s chopping block—Louie was ignoring that voice. She wavered between this state and fully accepting what it had to say, but it had never kept her from trying, and Louie wasn’t about to bow down to it now.

  She locked the door behind her, took the steps two at a time, and climbed into her truck. She programmed the GPS for Nashville, settled on the simple I-65 route in case her truck turned out to be less reliable than promised, and called her mom. She needed a hit of her mom’s enthusiasm to back her current level of optimism.

  “Hey, Noodle Doodle.”

  Hearing her mom’s voice raised Louie’s spirits even higher than they already were. “Hey, Mom.” She was bursting to reveal her news but tried to keep herself calm. “How are you?”

  “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Nothing changes in this little town except the color of the sky. Let’s talk about how you are instead.”

  Louie’s high took a hit when her mom delivered the same phrase she always used. She’d sacrificed so much to help Louie move closer to her dreams. It was time to start repaying that with some real action. “Okay. Guess what I’m doing?” She slowed and shifted into second to join the on ramp onto the US-41.

  “It sounds like you’re in a fish tank. Are you driving?”

  Louie smiled. All the technology to send people to the moon, and it was still impossible to have a quality conversation in a car over the phone. “Yup.”

  “Noodle! You saved up enough to buy a car?”

  Her mom’s zeal had never wavered, even when Louie called her in tears to tell her all about what her mom had labeled “Mia’s betrayal.” Having a cheerleader as exuberant as her mom had been essential to get her through the bad times after Mia had left. “Better than that. A truck. Guess where I’m headed?”

  Her mom’s answering gasp was audible. “Nashville?”
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br />   Louie’s heart melted at the wonderfully hopeful tone of her mom’s voice. “Nashville.”

  “I knew you’d do it, Noodle. I knew it.”

  There was a pause, and Louie knew her mom had stopped herself from saying anything about Mia just in case the wound hadn’t quite healed. “Thanks, Mom. I wouldn’t have made it this far if it wasn’t for you.” Her support had been as steady and constant as the Colorado River. She’d always been, and continued to be, the lifeblood to Louie’s aspirations, even sending her ten dollars by mail every week to keep her going.

  “This is all you, Louie. You’ve always had this in you, and you’re making it happen. Lesser people would’ve given it up.”

  Louie loved the depth of her mom’s belief in her. Whenever her own faith faltered, she could always rely on her mom to renew her conviction. “When I make it, you’ll still join me?” Fulfilling her dream would mean she’d be able to repay her mom for everything she’d ever done for her. They’d finally have the better life they’d dreamed of lying on hay bales beneath the moon when Louie was just a runty kid with a bold ambition.

  “I’ll be there with bells on when you can afford it, Noodle, but not until you’re on your feet with your own roof over your head.”

  Louie shook her head at her mom’s practicality. If she could’ve made a wish with a fairy grandmother, it would’ve been to ask for her first big royalty check to be big enough to buy them both a house. “I know, I know. But you will come, yeah?”

  “If you want me there, I’ll be there.”

  Louie grinned. She was heading to Nashville in her own truck, and she had a mom who believed she could do anything in the world. “I’ll make it happen, Mom. I promise.”

  “I know you will. I’ve always known you were special.”

  “As in the glass tastes like strawberries when I lick it, kind of special?”

  Her mom broke into her infectious raucous laugh. “That too, yes.” She chuckled some more. “Concentrate on driving. It’s late, and it’ll be getting dark soon. Which way are you going?”

  Louie shook her head, knowing a geography lesson was imminent. “The I-65 route, Mom. It’s quickest and less hassle.”

  Her mom sighed. “The 150, 41, 24 route is less miles.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Louie shook her head and was glad her mom wasn’t on FaceTime to see her rolling her eyes. “My route’s more populated. If I get tired, there are more motels to stop at.”

  “Make sure you do stop, then. I’m assuming you’re driving alone?”

  She didn’t need to ask. She knew there’d been no one since Mia had broken her heart, and Louie doubted there’d be anyone for a while. Not for longer than one night, anyway, and Louie didn’t tell her mom everything. “I am. It’ll be okay. I’ll call you when I get there.”

  “Make sure you do. And send me lots of photographs.”

  “Will do. Speak soon, Mom.”

  “Drive safe, Noodle.”

  Louie ended the call as she passed the Navy Pier on her left. Chicago had been a good home for two years, and she’d miss that place most of all. She had bittersweet memories of skating the Winter WonderFest with Mia, whose lack of balance was comical. And it had been the place she’d gone for every firework display from the Fourth of July and Halloween to Memorial Day weekend and as many as she could in between. But now it was time for a new city and fireworks of a completely different kind.

  Chapter Six

  Heather slid open the door of the music pod, stepped inside, and closed it behind her. Plugging her H6 recorder into the audio set up, she recalled the excited look on Gabe Duke’s face as he realized she was recording his two-song set at the Douglas Corner Café. Heather tried hard not to be noticed by the artists she was checking out, because she didn’t want them getting their hopes up unnecessarily. But that night had become unusually quiet by eleven, and it was impossible to blend into a crowd of ten no matter how small her recording unit was. She hoped that it wasn’t Gabe’s appearance that had reduced the regularly vibrant audience, but she suspected it might well have been.

  She uploaded his set onto the PC and copied it to Donny’s folder after reducing the background noise. She’d promised to do it after the meeting with Savana yesterday, but her whole schedule had been shot to pieces when Savana requested that Heather be her direct exec. Savana’s manager, Joe, had claimed Heather for the remainder of the day to get her “up to speed on Brand Savana.” Five solid hours with him made Heather wonder if she’d be working with a person or a product and if he only saw Brand Savana as a way to increase his bank balance. Heather had even started to feel a little sorry for her until Joe proudly proclaimed she was currently worth a hundred and twenty million dollars. That kind of money had to be worth some self-sacrifice. And Heather figured that Joe would’ve earned nigh on twenty million riding Savana’s coat tails.

  For now, Heather wanted to forget the daunting challenge of looking after Savana and concentrate on what she loved doing: discovering raw talent. She pulled on her noise-canceling headphones and flipped her hair out of the way over her shoulder. She wanted to hear the way Gabe’s voice wrapped around the haunting lyrics of one of her favorite Johnny Cash covers to make sure she wasn’t willing him to be better than he was. Gabe was in his early twenties, and attempting a song with such depth and tragedy was either exceptionally brave and personal or a show of ridiculous bravado and arrogance. Heather had managed to hold it together at the café, but in the privacy of the music pod, she didn’t make it to the second verse before tears tracked their way down her cheek and onto the glass desk. She wiped them away with the sleeve of her shirt before leaning back in the chair to let Gabe’s voice envelop her in regret and sorrow.

  A sharp knock on the pod door made Heather jump, and she knocked her knees on the edge of the table. She bit back the desire to swear, despite knowing that it had been scientifically proven that cursing made it feel better, and opened the door to Joe.

  “Savana wants to talk to you about songwriters. She’s in studio four.” He tapped his watch with two fingers. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

  “I have to finish this up for Donny and then I’ll be with her.”

  He pursed his lips. “Savana is always your priority whenever she’s in the building, Heather. You need to realize that or you won’t be her exec for long.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there soonest.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow, and Heather couldn’t define the emotion his eyes were keeping silent. She wondered if he was another doubter. Perhaps he thought Savana would be better taken care of by someone senior in experience, or maybe he thought a man would be more suitable. Heather could definitely see merit in the first option but tried to ignore the second as paranoia. Country music was still predominantly male, for sure, but it didn’t make every man a chauvinistic misogynist.

  “You’ve got this gig because Savana wanted you. She can unwant you just as fast if you’re not attentive to her needs.”

  “I understand,” she said, remaining as polite as possible, and slid the door closed on him.

  ***

  Heather knocked on the door and waited to be invited in. Savana and Joe were deep in a conversation that looked like it was irritating both of them. Savana glanced up and motioned for Heather to join them. Joe stood and left with only a cursory nod toward Heather. When he’d gone, she bit her lip to keep the question she wanted to ask quiet. It was way too presumptuous to expect Savana to trust her with any issues that didn’t concern the label and her music, and she didn’t know why she’d think it, but the short part of the exchange she’d witnessed somehow seemed more of a personal than professional nature.

  Heather lowered herself into Joe’s pre-warmed seat beside Savana and placed her mug on the table. As she sat, she wondered if she should’ve chosen the chair opposite Savana in case she wanted distance between them. God, looking after a diva is complicated. Heather chastised herself for the unkind thought. Thus far, Savana had come across as
surprisingly straightforward. Heather was the one making it difficult for herself.

  “What on earth is that? It smells like perfume.” Savana pinched her nose before wafting the aroma away as though it offended her.

  Heather laughed at Savana’s reaction. “It’s Earl Grey tea. The bergamot gives it that distinct fragrance.” She pushed the mug closer to Savana. “Do you want to try it?”

  Savana wrinkled her nose. “Oh God, no.” She tapped her own mug on its side with the diamond ring on her middle finger. “I’m a strong coffee woman, or water when I’m trying to be good.”

  That explained the excess of Evian at yesterday’s meeting. Heather suspected it to be the work of Joe trying to keep his meal ticket healthy. “I love the smell of strong coffee, but I can’t drink it. And freshly brewed coffee burns my nostrils.”

  “Oh no, I would never have asked you to be my exec if I’d known you were coffee-intolerant.”

  Heather was relieved when Savana followed that sentence with a wink and a gentle nudge to Heather’s shoulder.

  “Glad I kept it quiet then.”

  “Shall we get down to business?” She waited for acknowledgment from Heather before continuing. “Do you have anything you want to ask me?”