Run, Rose, Run(28)

“Oh, git, you pint-sized smart-ass,” he said.

“I told you not to call me small,” AnnieLee warned.

“Clearly you two get along just fine,” Ruthanna said. “Anyway, AnnieLee, I knew you were playing tonight, and I came down here to have a listen—and a word with you.”

AnnieLee could hardly believe that one of the most successful musicians in the history of the business had troubled herself to come to see her for a second time. But pride and stubbornness made her thrust up her chin. “I’m honored, ma’am, and I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that you know how I feel about your ‘get out of Nashville’ advice,” she said.

Ruthanna leaned against the bar. “When someone doesn’t appreciate my advice the first time, I’m not dumb enough to give it again. I don’t waste my breath like that, not when there’s songs to be sung. Or French fries to be eaten.” She reached over and plucked a handful from AnnieLee’s basket.

“I heard you weren’t supposed to have those,” Ethan said.

“I’m not. What are you going to do about it?”

Ethan threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Absolutely nothing.”

Ruthanna turned back to AnnieLee. “Listen,” she said. “Everybody needs an ally. And the more powerful that ally is, the better.”

AnnieLee took a deep breath, waiting for what Ruthanna would say next. Was it possible that she meant to help AnnieLee for real now? Or was this some kind of trick—a new, backhanded way to run her out of Dodge? Flustered, she tried to meet her idol’s cool, green-eyed gaze and failed.

“I didn’t get where I am alone, AnnieLee,” Ruthanna said. “A lot of people helped me along the way. Some of them did it because they loved me, and some did it because they knew they’d make money from me. I’m not saying that I couldn’t’ve done it without them, but it would’ve taken a whole lot longer. So you, little firecracker, you can keep on begging and sweating, just like you’re doing, and I’m sure you’ll make it somewhere. It might be just the second stage at Tootsie’s, though. Or it could be top billing at the Cat’s Paw. The CMAs might never be anything more than a wish you make on a falling star. Or on another damn birthday cake, one that’s got so many candles on it you could use it to roast marshmallows. So what I’m saying—”

“The CMAs?” AnnieLee sputtered, interrupting Ruthanna’s speech. “I might as well wish to sprout a horn and turn into a unicorn.”

Ruthanna cocked her head and laughed. “Well, all right, if that’s what you think. But I’m sure you could use a break from the dive bar hustle.”

“Billy wouldn’t know what to do without me, though,” AnnieLee said, loud enough for the bartender to hear as he walked by. He grunted and swiped some fries out of her basket.

“I’m not saying you can’t keep playing here,” Ruthanna said. “Or anywhere else that’ll have you, if that’s what you want to do.”

“AnnieLee’s starting to get a reputation, you know,” Ethan told her. “I heard her called the Princess of Printers Alley the other day.”

“That’s impossible!” AnnieLee exclaimed. Printers Alley, which was once home to a thriving publishing industry, was now one of Nashville’s most exciting entertainment districts. “I only played there twice.”

“Once is all it takes sometimes,” Ruthanna said.

“If you’re really good,” Ethan added.

“I think you are, AnnieLee,” Ruthanna said. “Which is why we need to get you into a recording studio.”

AnnieLee nearly choked on the fry she was eating. “Seriously?”

“Ruthanna’s got one in her basement,” Ethan said. “It’s incredible. You should see the mixing board. It’s fifteen feet long.”

Ruthanna gave him a playful elbow jab to the ribs. “Just like a man, to be concerned with how long something is.”

AnnieLee started laughing, which kept her from blurting out that she barely knew what a mixing board did. Then she asked, “Do you really think I should record some of my songs?”

“I do,” Ruthanna said. “I want to hear what you sound like in a decent mic, backed up by real musicians.”

AnnieLee’s heart was in her throat. She felt equal parts thrilled, grateful, and terrified.

“Yeah—five or six great recordings and she can self-release an EP on streaming,” Ethan said. “Is that what you’re thinking, Ruthanna?”

Ruthanna took a few more of AnnieLee’s fries. “One step at a time, cowboy.”

“But I’ve never sung with anyone else before,” AnnieLee said. “It’s always only been me and my guitar.”

“Well, once upon a time you’d never sung on a Nashville stage before, either,” Ruthanna countered.

“And you’d never met a charming, handsome man by the name of Ethan Blake. So really, there’s a fine first time for everything.”

AnnieLee considered throwing him an elbow, too, but decided not to.

“So, what do you say?” Ruthanna asked. “Are you ready to try something new?”

AnnieLee bowed her head and gazed down at her thrift store boots, remembering the lyrics she’d written on the way to Nashville.