CHAPTER NINETEEN
“You’re moving back to Atlanta? Do Mom and Dad know?” Katie was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked up under her, sipping wine. From her vantage point, she thought that her brother looked tired. His customarily coiffed hair and clean-shaven face were a mess, and he had noticeable dark circles under his eyes. He had flown in from DC, his shirt and pants wrinkled from travel and his tie loosened around his neck. His rolling luggage sat in the entryway near his shoes that he had slipped off. Her big brother seemed out-of-sorts, unlike the polished professional broker he usually was. She watched him take a long pull from a bottle of beer and sigh.
“No, I haven’t told Mom and Dad. I don’t want them to worry. I figured I could stay at your place until I found something and let them down easy.”
“What happened?”
Hartford Parker laid his head back on the overstuffed chair and stared up at the ceiling. “I was let go.”
“What?” Katie perked up and placed the stemware on the coffee table. “Why?”
“It’s a long, drawn-out story. I don’t want to bore you with the details.”
She shook her head, worried that his job loss might have resulted from his temper. It wasn’t as prevalent the older he got, unlike their teenage years at home when he would often erupt like a violent volcano. An angry look from him had made her burst into tears on more than one occasion while they were growing up together. The funny thing was, he would erupt, and five minutes later, he’d be sweeter than honey in a beehive. Nonetheless, she loved her big brother to pieces and would do anything to protect him. She’d keep her mouth shut and not tell her parents anything. It scared her knowing something terrible must have set him off for them to let their top broker go.
“You didn’t do anything physical to anyone, did you?” She had to ask. Hart wasn’t a bad-boy, per se. But if he was mad enough or in protection mode, one better look out. There was a time when she was being picked on in middle school—bullied by a big boy who teased her on the school bus because she was already filled out and so much taller than the other girls her age. When Hart witnessed his only sister crying uncontrollably and found out who the culprit was, he made sure to let big boy know to stop—with his fists. He never teased her again.
“No, Katie. I didn’t do anything physical.” He chugged the rest of his beer in three gulps. “We left on amicable terms. I’m receiving a four-month severance which will help while I try to get my feet planted back here in the ATL.”
She watched him stand and walk into the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge.
“Why Atlanta? Why don’t you try to get another job in DC? You must have a lot of connections, and I thought you liked it there?” She had visited him once, impressed by his leased condo with a long-distance view of the Washington monument. He seemed to fit right in with all the perfectly dressed politicians and professionals.
“I need a clean slate. And I miss home. I miss you and Mom and Dad. Atlanta’s a lot cheaper than DC too.”
Her heart surged with love when he said he missed her. She missed her big brother too. It would be nice having him back in town.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
Popping the top off the bottle, he gulped half the beer in one pass. “Had some peanuts on the plane. And a few Jack and gingers.” He smirked.
“Hart,” she chastised. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep drinking like that. Let me make you a sandwich.” She stood, grabbed her wine glass, and made her way into the kitchen. Hart followed like a curious child.
“What have you been up to? How’s your job?” he asked, leaning his butt on the counter and watching her.
“Job is good. Working nonstop.”
“How’s hot-Stacey?”
Katie gave him a disappointed sisterly look.
“What?” He grinned sheepishly. “You know I’ve always enjoyed her fine ass.”
“Hartford!”
He picked a piece of turkey off the sandwich she was making and popped it into his mouth. “You know I’m kidding. I could never date your best friend. Even if she is hot.”
“She’s dating Brent Rowan again.” She cut the sandwich and handed him a half.
“Really? How’d that happen? Wait… didn’t you just have your ten-year reunion?”
Katie nodded as she put the sandwich fixings back into the fridge. “Yes. Brent is divorced, and they hooked up at the reunion. They’ve been dating ever since.” When she looked up at her brother, the sandwich half she had handed him was gone, and he was working on the other half. “Do you want another sandwich?”
“Nah,” he replied with his mouth full. “This is good!”
They walked back to the living room and sat down. Hart ran his hand down his face wiping off crumbs. “What about you? Did you hook up with anyone?”
She could feel heat swell on her cheeks and fingered her glass. “Yes, I did.”
He was dumbfounded. “Really? Who?”
She tried to stifle her grin by biting her lower lip. “You wouldn’t know him. He came to Lakeside during my senior year. He’s a songwriter in Nashville.”
“What’s his name?”
Katie rolled her eyes knowing that the Hartford Parker inquisition had just begun. “Clay Watkins. He’s known in the Nashville songwriting community as ‘Georgia Clay.’”
“Uh-huh…” Hart had fired up his cell phone and was efficiently scrolling the web, she was sure of it.
“Hart, don’t go nuts with this, okay? You’ll like him. He’s a nice, normal guy—”
“In the music business,” he muttered.
She waited for a beat, knowing the web was about to reveal how famous her new boyfriend was. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth formed an ‘o’ as he read from his phone. He sat up straight, setting his beer on the coffee table.
“Are you shittin’ me, Katie?” His eyes darted to her quickly before he continued to read.
“Hart! Stop. It’s all good.”
He continued to hold his phone and leaned back in the chair looking at her with surprise. “You’re dating that guy? Georgia Clay?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be damned. That’s incredible. Do I get to meet him?”
“Well, if you’re staying here, yes, you’ll get to meet him. We trade weekends seeing each other. You’ll have the place to yourself this weekend because I’ll be in Nashville.”
“Damn, baby girl! You went and grew up on me.” His brown eyes displayed nostalgia. “Is he good to you?”
She nodded. “The best.”
“Do you love him?” he asked wistfully.
Katie looked at him pensively, not sure if she could answer his question. “I’m on the verge….”
***
There was absolutely nothing in the refrigerator except a few condiments, expired milk and two beers. Shaking his head, Clay grabbed one of the beers and flicked the top off, sending it skidding across the marble island. He was dog-tired after a full day of meetings with his new tour manager and the producer, and he didn’t have the energy to swing by the grocery store on his way home. Buddy was correct. Things were moving quickly. So quickly that he hardly had time to eat all week. His jeans felt loose, and his stomach clenched as the cold beer filled up the emptiness inside. He had managed to call Katie around ten that night while he was still at the Warner Music offices, but their conversation was cut short with people waiting to speak to him. Her voice tinged with disappointment, and he felt bad for having to hang up. Looking at the clock on his microwave, he contemplated calling her, but it was almost two in the morning. She’d be in Nashville in less than twenty-four hours, and he figured he could make it up to her then. He set the half-drunk beer on the counter and shuffled to his bedroom where he collapsed on the bed with his boots still on. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
Five hours later, Clay was up, showered and dressed ready to meet the studio musicians who would be playing on his debut album. In three short days, he and his new team had agreed on most of the songs that would be featured. Clay already had music charts, and his new assistant had put everything in binders, efficiently placing them on stands ready for the talent that came in. His eyes lit up when he saw a massive spread of breakfast food, juice, and coffee when he walked into the studio. Sustenance was needed if he was going to be able to concentrate on the most important work of his life. As he piled a plate with eggs, bacon, and a bagel, Buddy came up behind him and patted his back.
“Good morning,” he said exuberantly. He held a Styrofoam cup of coffee, looking fresh as a daisy in a crisp, white-button-down shirt, khaki pants, and cowboy boots. “You excited? Trent said you landed on most of the songs for the album yesterday and secured the studio musicians at a moment’s notice. I’ve never seen anything move so fast in this town. It’s incredible.”
Trent McDonald was a top music producer from Los Angeles. He had made Nashville his home several years ago when there was a sudden boom in the business, producing multi-platinum albums with several of the top country artists at the time. The West Coast native had fallen in love with the Music City, and one of his female production assistants, marrying her six months after they met. Three kids and numerous award-winning records later, Trent was still at the top of his game, in high demand by all the up-and-coming artists in town. For Clay to have him as his first producer on his debut album was unheard of. To book him in a matter of days was a miracle. But with his reputation and catalog of award-winning songs over the years, Trent told him he didn’t have to think twice, humbled when Clay confessed he was his first choice.
“Yeah, I’m excited.”
Buddy nodded as if he understood what Clay was going through. “Enjoy the ride. You’re in good hands with this all-star team we’ve assembled. It’s going to be an epic day—and it’s only day one!” Clay chuckled nervously. Buddy eyed his plate. “Eat up. I’ll check in with y’all when you break for lunch. Just remember, these are your songs. You’re the driver of this bus. Show ‘em how you do it and make me proud.”
“Sure.”
Buddy patted his back again before he left him alone in the hospitality room. Clay took a big bite of food, hoping it would squelch the millions of butterflies that were flapping in his empty stomach.