You'd Be Mine(25)

As I close the door behind me with a slam, I hear his voice through the open window again. “No. You shouldn’t have.”



* * *



My encounter with Clay rattled, wrung me out, and then spit me out, so hours later, all that’s left is pure fury. Rationally, I know he was embarrassed I’d heard him being vulnerable. I get it. Fine. And I probably did sound high-minded approaching a megastar like him and cooing over his private songwriting. But I ain’t no newbie. I was raised up by legends in the school of music. To call me an “internet sensation”?

Oh no, he did not just say that.

Call it my stubborn pride, or maybe I’m my father’s daughter, but who the hell does he think he is saying I work for him? Like I’ve ever once looked to him to be my mentor? Or my Johnny? What the actual eff is that about? It wasn’t my idea to do that stupid photo shoot, and I’m not the one whose manager is dropping hints at attraction between us.

No, sir. That ain’t me.

Maybe I should give Southern Belle a call. Maybe Clay needs a little reality check. Internet sensation. Puh.

My anger carries through to showtime, and when I tape up my revised set list, Kacey and Jason exchange nervous looks.

“Um, Annie, I’m all for being adventurous, but are you sure you wanna do ‘Coattails’? It’s brand new. The label hasn’t given it a pass yet.”

I throw him a glare before replacing the giant Gucci sunglasses wardrobe provided for nights when I’m performing facing the sunset. “Whose name is on the top of that paper, Diaz?”

Jason’s lips twitch, and he affects a cowboy stance. “Annie Mathers, ma’am.”

I grab my guitar and head for backstage. “Don’t you forget it.”

The crowd in Biloxi is the biggest yet in the week we’ve been on tour. Connie pulled me aside this afternoon to tell me there would be a film crew taking live footage to incorporate for a music video, and I’m tickled at the turnout. I stride across the stage in my brand-new black Tony Lamas with pale pink scroll, feeling the fringe on my vest swing against my skin. One week in and I’m full-on Nashville. Back in Michigan, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the fringe and leather feel like home.

“Hey, y’all! My name’s Annie, and the gorgeous fiddle player beside me is my cousin, Kacey, and that good-looking goofball on the drums is my best friend, Jason Diaz. We’re called Under the Willows, and we’re here to show you a good time, so let’s get things started!”

We open with a cover, this time Reba’s “Fancy.” It’s part of my personal crusade to introduce these little girls to some music appreciation. Maybe Clay’s right about that. Maybe I do have some lofty ideals about country music.

Someone clearly needs to, even if it’s just some internet-famous eighteen-year-old with frizzy hair.

After “Fancy,” we jump right into “Should’ve Been You,” which has been gathering steam and is the reason for the film crews today. Keeping them in mind, I milk the story of Jason breaking my heart and make sure his biceps get plenty of airtime with a drum solo.

I slow it down for a bit, throwing in my take on Dolly’s “Jolene” before pulling out my ace in the hole. My body is literally vibrating with anticipation. I hope he’s listening. Of course he’s listening. In fact, I glance stage left and see his cap in the shadows next to Fitz. I nod once and turn to my mic.

“Y’all have been fabulous tonight! Truly, you make a girl feel so welcome. I might need to come back to Mississippi when this tour’s all wrapped up.” A cheer rises up, and I grin. I pull the mic off and start for the front of the stage, adding a little swagger to my step, and I wink at the red light blinking of the video cameras still aimed at my face. Perfect.

“We wanna play one more for you guys tonight before we let the big boys hit the stage. Is that all right?” Another cheer. “This one’s brand spanking new. Never heard before, so it’s an exclusive for y’all. You don’t mind being my tester crowd, do ya?

“I know there’s been all sorts of rumors about me and a certain country boy…” Cheers erupt, and I smirk. “Well, I’m here to set the record straight. I don’t need no ball cap–wearing, Levi-filling, sweet-crooning man in my life. I don’t need no ‘Coattails’!”

Jason hits his cue with admirable intensity, and I glance at Kacey, whose eyes are twinkling as she raises her bow and gives me a nod of approval. I close my eyes and sing.

You might think I’m here to

Crowd your photo ops or

Dim your glaring spotlight,

Shamelessly name-drop

But I’m too far along now

And I’ve got my own thing going

Or I’d be damned to follow

Down where your rapids flowin’

You had better check yourself

Cuz, boy, I ain’t draggin’ on no coattails

Your style just ain’t mine

Your drama is too much for me

Your ego’s outta line

So fire up those engines

Saddle up your horse

Be ready for this rodeo

I’ll be right up front a’ course

With my sunshine vocals

And my wild-ass hair

I’ll thrill all the locals

You just pull up a chair