Run Rose Run(55)

“It’s a yes or no question,” Ruthanna said.

“Yes,” he said. “Of course I do.”





Chapter

47


Okay, you sit down right here,” Ruthanna said, gently pushing AnnieLee toward a poolside chair. “And don’t be nervous: Poppy’s a brilliant hairstylist.”

AnnieLee, who’d played the last eight nights in clubs all around Nashville, was more than happy to follow any orders involving the word sit. She felt as though Poppy could shave her head bald and she’d be too tired to even care.

Poppy, whose wide face and high cheekbones made her look like a young Debbie Harry, ran her fingers through AnnieLee’s long hair, which was still wet from the shower.

“Virgin?” Poppy asked.

AnnieLee stared at her in shock. “Excuse me?”

Ruthanna burst into laughter, but AnnieLee couldn’t imagine what was so funny. “What? What does she mean?”

“She meant has your hair ever been colored,” Ruthanna said. “Virgin hair is unprocessed.”

AnnieLee could’ve died right then and there. “Oh,” she said. “I thought—”

Poppy gently brushed one of AnnieLee’s dark waves away from her cheek. “It was pretty obvious what you thought, love,” she said.

“I’ve used a box dye once or twice,” AnnieLee said stiffly, trying to regain some of her dignity. She’d never had a professional haircut, though, and the mani-pedi Ruthanna had treated her to yesterday was her first.

“Well, the color is gorgeous,” the stylist said. “I won’t mess with it.”

As Poppy began combing, misting, and snipping strands of her hair with the utmost care and tenderness, AnnieLee started to relax again. She was toying with a new melody in her head, feeling almost as if she could drift into a nap, when Ruthanna’s phone dinged with a text.

“Okay. Eileen Jackson will be here any minute,” Ruthanna said.

“Who’s Eileen Jackson?” AnnieLee asked drowsily, and only to be polite.

“She’s the publicist you’re hiring,” Ruthanna said. “She’s flying in from Los Angeles.”

“Wait. What?” AnnieLee said, sitting up straight and suddenly wide-awake. “What for?”

Ruthanna took a sip of the smoothie Maya had pressed into her hand. “Jack says that now you’ve got a label, it’s time you got a publicist, and since he’s your manager, you’re supposed to listen to him.”

Poppy’s scissors clicked across AnnieLee’s back, and the bright, metallic sound reminded her of brushes tapping on a snare drum. “I thought he said I needed a lawyer,” AnnieLee said.

“And he was right. But the bigger you get, the more people you need,” Ruthanna said. “You’ll probably want to think about hiring an assistant at some point, too.” She flashed a sly grin at Maya. “Though I’d recommend one who doesn’t make you drink kale and bee pollen smoothies, or whatever the heck this is.”

“Don’t even pretend you don’t love them,” Maya said huffily.

“Is this a ‘fake it till you make it’ kind of thing?” AnnieLee asked. “Sure, I’m getting a name around Nashville, but I don’t even have an album yet.”

“If I had to bet, I’d say this was the calm before the storm. It’s best to get your team in place.”

AnnieLee’s hair was just beginning to fall into long, elegant layers when Eileen Jackson appeared on the pool deck in a chic white dress and towering, leopard-spotted heels. Her cool, confident demeanor wavered ever so slightly when she saw Ruthanna, and AnnieLee thought she detected an expression of barely concealed awe.

AnnieLee smiled to herself. Ruthanna Ryder tended to have that effect on people.

But Ruthanna, ever the gracious Southern host, rose to greet her. “Welcome to Nashville,” she said. “I hope your flight was all right.”

“Turbulent, but the Bloody Mary helped.” Eileen smiled. “It’s such an honor to meet you.” She looked over at AnnieLee as Poppy twisted a section of her hair and pinned it on top of her head. “An honor to meet you both,” Eileen clarified.

AnnieLee offered up a tiny wave and said, “Hi, I like your shoes,” because it seemed like a friendly thing to say. Certainly it was better than Nice ankle breakers, which had been her first thought.

Eileen said, “You’re taking such good care of your little discovery, Ms. Ryder.”

Ruthanna laughed. “I wouldn’t call her little if I were you.”

AnnieLee would rather not be called anyone’s discovery, either—it wasn’t as if Ruthanna had found her underneath the tree near the Cumberland River—but she kept her mouth shut.

“Are you enjoying the pampering?” Eileen asked her.

AnnieLee stretched out a leg to admire her pedicure. “I’m definitely not complaining,” she said.

“Well, good, because it comes with the territory,” Eileen said. “Celebrities should look like the glittering stars their fans think they are. Right, Ruthanna?”

“I try to look reasonably nice most days,” Ruthanna allowed—an understatement if there ever was one.

“But I’m not actually a celebrity,” AnnieLee pointed out.