Run Rose Run(82)

Chapter

71


AnnieLee had just stepped out of the shower when she heard a gentle knock and a polite voice calling “Room service” from the hall.

Wrapping herself in a fluffy white robe, AnnieLee padded over, unlocked the double locks, and stepped back to let the maid wheel the folding table inside. “Thanks a million,” she said. “You can put that over by the couch, I guess.” She headed back into the bathroom.

As she stood in front of the mirror, combing through her wet hair, she could hear the wings of the table clicking into place and the sound of water being poured into a glass.

“Bon appétit,” the woman said. “Au revoir!”

“Thank you,” AnnieLee called. “And um…au revoir to you, too.”

They really like their French around here, she thought.

With her hair brushed and her skin slathered with one of the fancy complimentary lotions, AnnieLee came back out, re-bolted the door, and then walked over to inspect the breakfast spread. Beneath a gorgeous spray of lilies was a bowl of cut fresh fruit, a basket of buttery pastries, and a cappuccino with a fleur-de-lis design in its foam.

She was too nervous to be hungry, but she took a croissant and made herself eat it as she paced around the luxurious hotel room, going over her set list in her mind. She’d open with “Driven,” and then go into “Dark Night, Bright Future”…

Knowing that Ruthanna was the true headliner of the show took a tiny bit of the pressure off. But AnnieLee and Ruthanna hadn’t sung together in weeks, and their only rehearsal time before the performance was in less than two hours.

The story is old

Has often been told

Of a rich city boy and a poor country girl

She sang through their duet—she had the high harmony, and Ruthanna the lower melody—and then she walked out onto the balcony to feel the sun on her face. She could see a turquoise pool glimmering a block away, and beyond that, the tip of the fake Eiffel Tower and the High Roller observation wheel. Somewhere even farther out lay the wide, flat desert—and, nearly two thousand miles beyond that, her little cottage in Nashville, Tennessee.

As wonderful as her tour had been, she wouldn’t be sorry to get back to normal life, where she could take walks and write new songs and make plans for what would come next. She had an entire album to make, after all. And what if ACD wanted her to do music videos? Or perform on SNL? Or tour with Luke Combs? It was too much to think about now.

She went into the suite’s bedroom and turned on the TV. Half listening to a young couple trying to decide which McMansion to buy, she finally opened the box that Ruthanna had sent to her room earlier that morning.

Inside blush-colored tissue paper was a halter-neck Proenza Schouler dress in a black metallic knit, with a fitted bodice and a tiered, ruffled skirt. “Ohhh,” she breathed, lifting the dress to her shoulders and looking in the gilded mirror. It was a far cry from her usual jeans and boots, but tonight was a special occasion, wasn’t it? Certainly Ruthanna would be dressed to the elevens, and it wouldn’t do for AnnieLee to swagger onstage looking as though she’d outfitted herself at the nearest Goodwill.

You know what I say about “too much”… Ruthanna had written on the front of a little card that had been affixed to the box.

“What?” AnnieLee said out loud to the empty room, and then she looked inside the card. Out fell five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.

I say I never, ever heard of such a thing! Break a leg tonight, kid. And then buy us ten rounds of drinks. Love, Ruthanna

Grinning, AnnieLee tucked the money into her robe and then reached into the tissue paper again. She pulled out a pair of black six-inch stilettos with sparkling rhinestone heels.

“Shoot, I probably will break a leg if I wear these,” she said. She dropped the shoes onto the bed and picked up the dress again. She was about to slip off her robe and try it on when she heard a noise that made her freeze.

A low thud. It had been faint, but close by. Had it come from the TV? From a neighboring room?

Slowly, she reached for the remote and hit Mute; now the young couple on-screen debated kitchen design in silence.

The thudding sound came again, and then one more time.

It was coming from the hallway, AnnieLee realized, sighing with relief. People were walking by and brushing against the wall outside her door.

She was way too jumpy today—that was for sure. She flopped onto the bed and stared up at the crystal chandelier. You just need to calm down for a minute, she told herself.

She was counting her slow exhales when out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of movement. A flash of dark clothing, a gleam of metal. She barely had time to form the thought Someone’s here before he was on top of her.

His legs straddled her midsection, his weight pressed her breathless. And he was holding a gun.

Her gun.





Chapter

72


For an instant, fear blinded her. But then she recognized that cruel, hated face. She knew that heavy brow and those hard blue eyes. She could smell him, too, a familiar, bitter smell of sweat and cigarette smoke.

“You,” he spat, stabbing her in the chest with the muzzle of the gun. “You dumb hick, you thought you could run.”

“Get off me!” AnnieLee yelled.

He clapped his hand roughly over her mouth. “Rose,” he said, shaking his head. “Rose.”