Shane paused and looked like he was going to ask something, but then he shook his head. “No, sorry, this has nothing to do with your little parking lot antics, though I did see the store’s surveillance footage. It’s grainy, but it’s clear the guy handed Jo the phone of his own free will. Anyway, I didn’t come over to talk about you two throwing down at the grocery store. Tell me, Jolene, how would you feel about doing a duet with Wayne Rush?”
That had her stopping in the midst of prying open the plastic box her salad was in. “The Wayne Rush? Are you kidding me? I would absolutely love to. But he would never give me the time of day. He’s country royalty, and I’m an upstart. Who wrestles in Piggly Wiggly parking lots. I’m not good enough to snag his attention.”
“I beg to differ. My partner is producing his next album, and he wants you on it with him. At least three songs, and for you to tag along on tour so you can pop onstage every night for the duet. He wants, and I quote, your ‘sweet Southern voice.’?”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she breathed. “That is nuts.”
“So should I tell him yes?” Shane was nodding in an exaggerated manner.
“I can’t. I have a commitment to the label.”
“He’s on the same label. I will talk to the powers that be. You can finish up the album with Chance and push back the tour a little.”
“Or you can pull out of the tour altogether,” Elle said, saying out loud exactly what Jolene had been thinking.
“That’s not professional,” she said, though everything in her wanted to bail after what she had learned that afternoon. “I can’t be that girl.”
“What are you talking about? Why would you bail?” Shane asked.
“Tennyson Mitchell and Chance hooked up while Chance and Jolene were broken up,” Elle said.
Hearing it out loud was like taking a bullet. Jolene winced before she could stop herself.
“So?” Shane looked genuinely confused.
“You’re an idiot” was Elle’s opinion. “The issue is that he never bothered to mention it to Jolene.”
“So? I mean, I guess that sucks, but they were broken up.”
“So we’re writing this damn album together!” Jolene said, exasperated by her brother’s man thinking. How could he not grasp the magnitude of Chance’s deception? “That’s a big deal. I’m sitting there with my boyfriend and a colleague writing songs for four days, and I didn’t know they sucked face.”
“Oh.” Shane looked bewildered still, then shrugged. “So then there really is no reason to say no to Wayne. This is a career maker, Jo. Seriously. As your brother and as a producer, I am going to advise you to take the deal before it gets offered to another blond singer in her twenties.”
Shane knew her fears of being replaceable. Jolene knew it was a huge opportunity. It might never come again. And she didn’t owe Chance her loyalty, not after he had lied to her. “Yesterday I would have said no. Today I’ll say yes.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Elle asked. “Everyone knows Wayne Rush is a bitch to work with.”
“Better a bitch than a promiscuous opportunist.” At that moment she wasn’t sure if she was talking about Tennyson or Chance. Or herself, for that matter.
She had a headache and a heartache.
She wanted nine million gallons of ice cream, a vat of wine, seven naps, and a cupboard full of plates she could smash against the wall.
She settled for taking the phone from Shane after he dialed the number of Wayne Rush’s manager.
Shit just got real.
Chapter 17
Chance didn’t like the way the day was going. Or the week. He was pacing in his living room, waiting for Jolene to come over. He needed to tell her about Tennyson. He had wanted to the minute he’d found out the day before, but Jolene hadn’t been answering his calls. Ginny had told him that Jolene was involved in an altercation with a photographer, and he’d been worried sick, but she had texted that she was fine and just wanted to go to bed. He had invited himself over and she had told him no. He had been insistent and she had turned off her phone, which was totally unlike her. Then that morning she hadn’t shown for their session with Tennyson. Something was up and none of it was good.
All he could think was that she somehow knew about Tennyson, but how could she know when he hadn’t known? He couldn’t believe that he could have been so damn drunk and so freaking stupid as to make out with Tennyson in a pool at a party, no matter how small and private that event had been. It seemed like super-poor judgment, even for him, but if he didn’t remember it—which was disturbing as hell—he had clearly been fired up on whiskey and capable of all manner of bad choices. Tennyson hadn’t given him details, and he hadn’t wanted them. What he wanted was to jump into a time machine and not do it. Short of that, he would have to take a knee and apologize to Jolene and explain that he hadn’t been trying to hide something from her. His nuts already hurt from the kick he was convinced she would deliver. He would take it because he deserved it.