Run, Rose, Run(54)
“I worked my rear end off,” she interrupted, “and I never stopped—not until I left the business.”
“Honey,” Jack said, his voice gentle now. “I know that. I know just about everything about you.”
“Oh, do you, now?” Ruthanna was simultaneously offended and touched by Jack’s claim. Of course he didn’t know everything. But he knew more than almost anyone else. Way more.
And then suddenly she wasn’t thinking about her past, or AnnieLee’s career, or anything but Jack, good old familiar Jack, there on the other end of the line.
“I miss you,” she heard herself say.
He didn’t answer right away, and Ruthanna quickly wished she could take the words back. It didn’t matter that they were true.
“Well,” Jack finally said, “if you really mean that, then today might be your lucky day.”
“Oh, yeah? How come?” she asked.
“Because I’m right outside your gate.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Laughing, blushing, Ruthanna punched in the gate code, and five minutes later Jack was coming into the yard, where she sat in a white lacy dress and Balenciaga sunglasses, her hair and makeup perfect. Of course.
“Were you expecting someone?” he asked, glancing around the garden.
“I don’t leave my own bedroom without looking red-carpet ready—you know that. And it’s a good thing, too, the way some folks show up unannounced.” She smiled up at him as he set a bottle of white wine on the table. “What’s that for?”
“A gentleman never shows up empty-handed,” Jack said. “Anyway, don’t we have something to celebrate?”
“What?”
“My management agreement with AnnieLee.”
“You old snake,” Ruthanna said approvingly. “Calling me up to yell at me when you’d already got it all figured out.”
“We’ll bring in PR and a social media manager immediately,” he said. “And she’s got to get a lawyer. Do you think we should go with Nelson at Fox Klein Nelson?”
“Work all this out with her, why don’t you? I’m retired.”
Jack glanced over at the guitar that was leaning suspiciously close by, and then at the new lyrics he could see scribbled on the back of a receipt. But he didn’t say anything; he just gave a little smile, which Ruthanna pretended not to notice.
“Are you going to open the wine, or what?” she asked.
Jack’s smile got wider. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned with the bottle opener and her Riedel stemware. “I saw that AnnieLee’s single is at number thirty-seven. She’s a phenom.”
“Once they took her on, ACD put serious money into promoting ‘Driven.’ Not bad at all for a kid nobody’s heard of.”
“It sure isn’t.” Jack poured the chardonnay into their glasses. “The spotlight’s going to come back to you, you know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’ve made AnnieLee your protégé,” he said. “Maybe not even on purpose. But think about it: You hear a pretty kid singing in a bar one night, and your interest is piqued. Good Samaritan that you are, you pick her up and dust her off, and lo and behold, you find a star underneath the hillbilly dirt. Hell, not even a star: a potential supernova. People are going to eat that story up like ice cream. And mostly because you’re in it.”
“But it’s not my story,” Ruthanna protested. “It should be all about AnnieLee.”
Jack laughed. “You just don’t get it, do you? People will grab at even the tiniest scrap of information they can get about you, Ruthanna. You left the business when you had the whole world at your feet. You were the biggest star Nashville had, and you just quit. No one can understand it, though believe me, they’ve tried.” He took a sip of wine and made a face; he was a whiskey man at heart. “The world still wants more from Ruthanna Ryder: more songs, more concerts, more everything. And the fact that they aren’t getting any of it? Well, that, my dear, is just one of the reasons why everyone’s still completely fascinated by you.”
She laughed at his words, and at his tiny grimace. “You’re cuckoo. What makes you think that’s true, anyway?”
He waited a moment before he spoke, as if he wanted to make sure he had her full attention. “Because I’m still fascinated by you, Ruthanna,” he said. “And I, of all people, should be damn well sick of you.”
His voice was low and intimate, and Ruthanna felt the flush move from her cheeks all the way down to her chest. They’d known and loved each other for so long, hadn’t they? They’d always been such good friends.
But feelings could change, and one kind of love could blossom into another when you least expected it. Was that what was happening now? Or had it already been happening, slowly but surely over all those years? What would it be like if she didn’t send him home tonight?
Flustered, she took a big gulp of wine and nearly choked on it.
“You okay?” he asked, looking at her quizzically.
Instead of answering, Ruthanna reached out and grabbed her guitar. Holding it against her like a shield to guard her heart, she felt better instantly. Everything was under control.