CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The cold air blasted downward from a tiny spout in the ceiling of the Delta plane directly into Katie’s face, keeping her nausea at bay. Dale sat beside her, chatting ninety-miles an hour on his cell phone to a friend he was looking forward to seeing while they were on the West Coast. She numbly watched each person as they entered the plane, wondering why they were going to California and if they were happy they were going there. She most definitely, was not.
Shifting in her black pencil skirt and crossing her bare leg in the more than ample space in front of her first-class seat with her pointy, patent-leather shoes, she picked up her Tanqueray and tonic that was in a real glass and took a long pull. Alcohol was absolutely going to be on the menu this weekend and she was starting early.
“Hey. How are you holding up?” Dale shifted so he could look directly at her. He was impeccably dressed and sipping on a mimosa in a champagne glass. When he found out they were traveling together, flying first-class, he insisted on picking her up in the car service he always used so she wouldn’t have to go it alone to the airport. He promised to be by her side, even offering to stay in the same hotel room if she needed him to.
Sighing, she managed a tiny smile, glad that he was such a good friend. “I’m numb,” she uttered before the waterworks started again. She had cried at least three times before they were seated on the plane, nervously checking her phone over and over for a message from Clay, the mere mention of his name sending her into an emotional tailspin.
“Kathryn, please. Don’t start again.” He picked up his cocktail napkin and gently dabbed at her face. “There’s still time.”
“No,” she interrupted, shoving her cell phone in the seatback in front of her. “Please, it’s over. I’ve made up my mind.” She grabbed the napkin and held it to her mouth trying to regain her composure. Texting a lie to Clay earlier to let him know she was on her way had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She still couldn’t quite get to that final moment when she would have to break the news to him that she wasn’t coming at all.
People kept piling on the plane while several babies screeched, and the attendants talked loudly over the speakers, explaining how to get luggage into the overhead compartments quickly and efficiently. It felt like she was in an obnoxious, loud nightmare. Her hand trembled, bringing the glass up to her lips again, wishing the alcohol would kick in sooner rather than later.
“It’s not worth it, Katie.”
He had never called her Katie before. She looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “You never call me that.”
Looping his arm with hers, he snuggled against her. “You know that I love you, right? You’re my work-wife and I would never do anything to hurt you or guide you in the wrong direction.”
“Okay…”
“I thought long and hard about this last night. Screw Mr. Taylor and his ultimatum. You’ve been a tremendous asset to this company and he knows it. I can handle the conference. You need to handle your life. There’s still time.” He picked up his phone off the tray table and showed it to her. “With a couple of clicks, I can get you on the next plane to Nashville. I can have a rental car waiting for you and you’ll be in Clay’s arms before the show starts…”
“Dale, please.” She jerked back, her heart pained by his offer, looking away in anguish. Her mind was reeling, the urge to throw caution to the wind for once in her life very real. The crossroad was before her—Dale was right. There was still time. She could feel him smoothing the nape of her bare neck below her tight, over-sprayed corporate bun.
“I’m dialing the number now.”
Keeping her face turned away, she didn’t dare move listening to him speak to a Delta gate agent on her behalf. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and she froze to the chair. She didn’t stop him. Even though she was a nervous, emotional wreck, she was somehow glad Dale had taken over the situation. Was she really going to do the unthinkable and give up her job?
Her eyes followed a young couple who had just boarded the plane—they looked to be college age, fresh-faced and energetic with their hands all over each other. They obviously didn’t have a care in the world. The line was backed up out the door as they stood right next to her, the young man nuzzling the woman from behind and whispering something into her ear making her giggle. Katie stared up at them, yearning to be that couple at the moment, her mind racing with snapshots of her and Clay in happier times.
“I like your necklace,” the young woman said, startling her out of a daydream. Katie quickly fingered the jewelry around her neck, the smooth silver achingly familiar. It was a gift from Clay; a simple piece made by a local silversmith on the mountain. He had surprised her with it on their last morning together at Lake Burton, clasping it around her neck while they lay naked in bed. She had touched it often in the past week, often rubbing it between her fingers as if it were a magic lamp hoping a genie would appear granting whatever her heart desired in one fell swoop.
Their eyes met. “Thank you,” she whispered, aware that her fingers anxiously caressed the small silver heart attached to a simple, black string. No genies appeared, but in a split second, Katie realized she was about to dodge a morbid arrow into her own heart. Cupid’s arrow came down hard hitting her square on the head. She loved Clay Watkins. She loved him and no job in the world was going to keep her from the man of her dreams. She eagerly smiled back at the couple who had no idea that their love had brought her back into the light, out of the darkness that had almost kept her from making the biggest mistake of her life. Bolting upright, she grabbed her purse and downed the remnants of her cocktail with purpose. Dale was right beside her quickly giving instructions on where exactly she needed to go to catch the next plane to Nashville.
“I’ll text you with the rental car info. Don’t worry about your luggage—I’ll get it when we land in California. Guess you’ll have to do some shopping with Clay?” His grin was infectious. She grabbed his face and surprised him with a hard kiss on the mouth. His astonished expression was priceless.
“I love you, Dale – my sweet work-husband! I love you so much!”
“I love you too, Katie!”
***
Backstage at the Ryman teemed with media, label executives and famous country music artists, eagerly awaiting the Nashville Warner Music televised anniversary special. Buddy was leading Clay down a wide hallway adorned with giant photos of country music royalty, taking him to his private dressing room when he recognized a familiar face.
“Hey, Heather!” he yelled over the top of the crowd milling about in the corridor.
Heather Spade turned toward him and smiled brightly with appreciation.
“Buddy, give me just a sec.” Weaving through the mass of people, Clay approached her and gave her a quick hug. “Hey, how are you?”
“Hey yourself, Georgia Clay. Damn! I’m diggin’ the new look!” Her ice-blue eyes were still an amazing contrast to her vibrant purple hair as she grinned at him from behind her thick glasses. “You went and signed a record deal after telling me that would never happen.”
Clay nodded. “Yeah. It kind of happened pretty quickly. I’m part of the Warner Music family now. I’m performing tonight.”
“That’s what I heard and one of the reasons I’m here. There’s a lot of buzz about you in this town. A ton of people are stoked that you’re gonna sing and play your own songs. It’s about time.” She fingered the guest pass attached to a lanyard of media credentials hanging around her neck. “I’m gonna have to do an addendum to the article that just came out in Song Writing Universe Magazine.” She raised a thin eyebrow playfully.
He laughed, running his hand quickly through the short wave on top of his head. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Once things settle down, I’d be more than happy to hook up with you again and give you the lowdown.”
“Awesome!”
“I gotta run. I saw you and I just wanted to say ‘hey.’ I hope you enjoy the show.”
“Oh, I will. Is your muse here tonight?”
Clay shyly looked at the floor for a split second and grinned bashfully. “Yeah, she’ll be here.”
Their eyes locked for a moment and they smiled knowingly at each other.
“Break a leg, Georgia Clay. I’m truly thrilled for you.”
“Thanks.”
A few minutes later, Clay was safely behind the closed door of the Stars and Stripes dressing room, relishing the brief quiet before the chaos of the show started. The room was an homage of sorts to the American flag with one entire wall adorned with a faded mural of it. He let his body free-fall onto a worn leather sofa with two American flag crocheted pillows on each corner. Mirrors edged with lighted bulbs, and a sink with a mini-fridge completed the room. One of Clay’s guitars sat in a stand on the tan and red oriental rug next to an upright piano across from the couch. Large vintage posters of old Ryman advertisements decorated two of the walls, and he noticed right away an assortment of colorful flower bouquets and a couple of bottles of top-shelf whiskey displayed on top of the piano and dressing table with little notes from friends, and family across the nation.
“You need anything, you just holler. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed until show time. Turn on that flat screen right there and you can watch the live feed from the stage.” Buddy put his hands in his pants pockets and sighed. “This is it, son. This is your debut. I couldn’t be more pleased.”
Clay looked around the room, taking it all in before nodding at Buddy. “It’s surreal. I never thought this would happen. But here I am.”
“Here you are.” Buddy looked at his watch. “You got about two hours before your slot. What time is Katie getting here?”
Clay had been so busy attending last-minute interviews with an entourage of Warner Music execs that he hadn’t had time to reach out to Katie all day. “Anytime, I think. She texted a couple of hours ago letting me know she was on her way. I haven’t had time to get back with her. She’s on the stage door guest list. Can you do me a favor and keep an eye out for her?”
“Sure thing.” Buddy started to leave and stopped at the door. “Enjoy every moment, kiddo. This is epic.”
Clay nodded, watching the door close behind him. He stretched out with his hands clasped behind his head and smiled. He was more than ready to make his debut.
An hour and a half later, after watching the impressive intro to the show and several famous country artists perform effortlessly on the Ryman stage, Clay nervously paced back and forth inside the small private dressing room. He had wandered the halls earlier chatting with several artists, trying to pass the time while anxiously keeping an eye on his phone. The guy handling the backstage guests still hadn’t checked Katie’s name off his clipboard, which was worrisome. He had to keep moving, pacing the backstage area before finally relenting and heading back to his dressing room to change into his new, black denim jeans and a skin-tight t-shirt. He was still getting used to the handmade bracelets and thick leather belt with large silver embellishments on it. Several times, he stood in front of the rectangular mirror and didn’t recognize himself. In his worried state, his eyes looked too googly and his hair was definitely too short. It was unfortunate that he wasn’t enjoying himself, preoccupied with Katie’s lack of response. He couldn’t fathom what had happened. The excitement he had felt earlier faded, replaced with tension and anxiety. For the most part, he was left alone except for the stage manager who periodically poked her head in giving the countdown in fifteen-minute increments. She had just closed the door after letting him know he had thirty minutes before his introduction. Checking his phone for the one-hundredth time for a message from Katie, he fretfully shook his head. He had called and texted several times, begging to know where she was. The last thing he needed was to be worried about her. She had promised she’d be there. He shouldn’t have been out of pocket for so long and reprimanded himself for not being more available. Picking up his guitar for the umpteenth time, he tried to play a familiar melody but was discouraged with fumbling, edgy fingers. This was a bad sign.
The door opened, and he eagerly looked up, anticipating Katie’s arrival.
“Did you just see Brett Eldredge kill it out there? Damn! Kenny Rogers is up next. The audience is loving every minute of it.” He stopped in his tracks as if noticing Clay’s panicky demeanor. “You doin’ okay? You need anything?”
Clay gripped the back of his neck. “She’s not here yet. I can’t get in touch with her.”
Buddy chewed on his lower lip. “Katie?”
“Yeah, Katie.” He brushed past his friend and twisted off the cap of a costly bottle of whiskey; a gift from his friend Dierks Bentley. Pouring a small amount into a glass, he downed the brown liquor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where the hell could she be?”
Buddy scowled. “I thought she was already out in the audience, Clay. You sure she didn’t come in? Maybe she didn’t want to disturb you before the show?”
“No… no, I asked her to please let me know when she arrived. That was hours ago. I also checked with the guy myself who is letting in the guests backstage. He hasn’t seen her.” Shaking his head, he furrowed his brow. “What if something happened to her, Buddy? What if she became ill or was in a car wreck or something? I gotta find out where she is. Buddy, this can’t be happening. Not tonight of all nights!” A familiar tingling pulsed through his body—he was on the verge of a panic attack. Swallowing hard, he collapsed on the leather couch and leaned his elbows on his knees, taking in quick breaths. Buddy was kneeling next to him in an instant.
“Calm down, Clay. I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’ll find her. She’s probably just stuck in traffic is all. Maybe her phone died. Don’t jump to any conclusions, okay? Whether she makes it or not, you gotta get a hold of yourself ’cause there are a lot of folks out there waiting to see you.” He placed his large hand on Clay’s shoulder reassuringly.
Clay lifted his head, his vision blurred by tears. “Find her, Buddy. Please.” His voice was ragged with fear.