Chapter Thirty-Five

Scarlett

Last night I had revisited the bar Cameron had taken me to and was thrilled to discover the band was playing. I got their information and managed to set up a meeting between the band and Cesar this afternoon.

I was feeling quite proud of myself for landing what I hoped to be my first artist. I was nervous as hell they would laugh at the size of the studio and walk away. I had talked with the lead singer and given him a rundown of who I worked for, and he had seemed okay with it. It wasn’t like there was a long line of producers waiting to sign them. I was hoping that would work to our advantage.

I dressed and headed out the door, feeling better than I had in a while about leaving the comfort and safety of my house. I wasn’t worried about Isaac lurking outside or concerned he was going to break in and cause serious damage to my property.

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t going to let my guard down. I would still be checking my rearview mirror and be hyperaware of my surroundings for a good long while. Coming out of an abusive relationship left a girl scarred. It wasn’t like I could flip a switch and erase the past four years. Granted, being around Cameron had certainly made it a lot easier to forget, but that was over.

I walked down the hall and gently knocked on Cesar’s office door.

“Come in,” he called out.

I went inside and saw he was busy.

“I just wanted to let you know I found that band. I checked with your assistant before I left on Friday. She told me your afternoons were open all week. They’re going to be here at one,” I said, feeling proud.

“I saw that. Great job! I’m sending our head producer to run the meeting, and I’d like you to sit in. This is a good chance for you to see how this process works. You can’t very well produce music if you can’t get the singers in the studio,” he joked.

I nodded. “I’d be happy to be there. Thank you so much for giving me this chance. I’m sure once you hear them, you’re going to love them. I think they really have that ‘it’ factor. They’re a little edgy and have that rebellious, bad-boy thing going that I know ladies love and the guys will relate to.”

“Good. That’s what we need, fresh and exciting.”

“Thanks again. I’ll leave you to your work.”

I headed to my own small, windowless office and went through my list of things to get done for the day. I was doing a lot of grunt work, but I didn’t mind. It was all good experience. How could I expect to tell someone else what to do when I got to the top if I didn’t know the job myself?

As I began the tedious task of data entry, my thoughts drifted to Cameron. He had looked so rough yesterday. I wanted to hold him close while he slept in my arms. The man looked like he’d been through hell. I hated that it had ended badly yesterday. I couldn’t explain why I had gotten so mad. It wasn’t really anger. I recognized my tantrum had been born of hurt more than anything. He’d apologized, and I should have cut him a break.

I grabbed a quick lunch and met with the head producer, Tom. The guy was nice and offered a lot of insight about the job. When it was announced the band had arrived, I was suddenly nervous.

Tanya escorted the four-man group to the small conference room we were waiting in.

I immediately stood and shook the lead’s hand. There was a round of introductions, but I was so nervous I didn’t pay attention to any of the names that had been thrown out. I listened intently as the group’s leader asked questions about the studio and what kind of experience they had launching new artists.

Tom didn’t seem bothered by the questions. “We’re here to work with you and get your music heard by others,” he explained.

The group leader kept looking at me. “She heard us.”

Tom smiled. “She did, and she liked what she heard. I’d like to get you in the studio and lay down a track. It would be one track for now, and we’ll see how we work together,” Tom said, not committing to anything, which I thought was smart.

The singer kept staring at me, like he knew me or wanted to know me, which was kind of creeping me out. I tried to steel myself to the looks that I had a feeling would be coming my way the more I worked with aspiring artists. I was bound to run into some of those arrogant guys who thought I should swoon in their presence.

“I’m sorry. I was a little starstruck and didn’t catch your name,” I said to him, hoping to compliment him and put him off guard.

He smiled. “Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever been referred to as a star. My name is Jerry Smith, and I’m the leader of this ragtag outfit we like to call the Dealing Jacks.”

I nodded. “Interesting name. How’d you come up with it?” I asked, his name ringing a bell somewhere in my head, but I was too focused on my job to pay any real attention.

He laughed. “My buddy here was a dealer for a long time.”

“A dealer?” I asked, nervously looking at Tom.

“Blackjack dealer at a casino in Atlantic City. These other two, they’ve also been dealers at some point, and, well, I’m a jack of all trades,” he said with a grin that suddenly made me a little uncomfortable.

Seeing the men in the bright light of day was a lot different than seeing them in a dim bar. In the bar, they fit. They looked like musicians and had that vibe to them that teased and tantalized. In this small room, they looked like they were all waiting to meet with their parole officers. It was strange how the setting could change the image of a person.

“Do you have a day job so to speak?” I asked with my most charming smile.

Jerry looked at the other men and shrugged. “Not all the time. We work when we need to. We prefer to gig instead.”

“You only play at the one bar?” I pressed.

He grinned, and I felt like I had caught him in a lie but wasn’t sure what. “Mostly. We play around the city—places a girl like you wouldn’t know about.”

“You never know,” I shot back. “I found you.”

He winked. “That you did, sweetheart. That you did,” he said, slowly nodding his head up and down.

Tom took over the meeting, and I sat back and listened and watched. I walked the guys out and shook each of their hands, but Jerry insisted on hugging me. He said I was his best friend in the world at the moment and a handshake wasn’t nearly enough.

I laughed but couldn’t shake the icky feeling the guy gave me. It was one of those creeper moments when I would normally cross the street to avoid having to make eye contact with a guy. I shook off the feeling and headed back inside to finish my shift for the day. All day, something kept niggling at the back of my mind. It was annoying and distracting at the same time.

When I pulled onto my street, Cameron’s big truck caught my eye. It was so familiar, yet so unfamiliar. It felt like forever since I had see that sign of comfort parked alongside the road.

When I got out of the car, I spotted him talking to a man in a shirt and tie who was holding a clipboard. I had a feeling it was the insurance adjustor. I shook my head, thinking about all the furnishings and clothes and all the personal items Cameron would have to try to account for to be reimbursed.

I gave a small, polite wave when he looked at me before heading inside.

“Holy shit!” I said into my empty living room.

The name finally hit me. Jerry Smith was the name of the man who had burned down Cameron’s house! There was no way they could be one and the same man. It had to be one of those freak coincidences. Jerry and Smith were very common. It was just strange to have met a man by the same name so soon after the fire.

I shook my head. “Crazy small world,” I muttered before heading to the kitchen to find something to eat.

It wasn’t long before I heard a knock on the door. I had a feeling it was Cameron and wasn’t surprised to see him standing there when I opened it.

“Hi,” I said, feeling a little weird after the way our last meeting had ended.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice revealing the strain he was under.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told him curtly.

He sighed. “Scarlett, please. I don’t want us to stop being friends. We may not be neighbors, but I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to talk to you.”

Hearing the words, I felt a bit childish, but it was exactly how I felt. Honesty was supposed to be the best policy, right?

He cocked his head to the side. “Forever?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He shook his head. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be, I’m not going to fucking grovel at your feet. I apologized. I’m not going to keep saying I’m sorry for what I thought was best for my daughter.”

I didn’t say anything. He turned on his heel and walked away. I watched him go, feeling a little guilty but not wanting to open myself to get hurt again. Whenever the man was around, I wanted to be near him, like naked near. I didn’t want to be his booty call, and I had to be stern and keep him away or I was liable to jump him right there in the living room and get all caught up in something that could never be.

With my appetite lost, I flopped down on the couch and wallowed in self-pity. The constant beep every minute reminded me of the dinner I had popped in the microwave but didn’t want to eat anymore.

I should have told him about the band leader. It could have been a lead, or it could have been nothing at all. Every time the man was around, I lost my train of thought. I had no idea what I was going to do about it. I should have gone with my gut instinct when I first met him and stayed away. I had been fresh on the rebound after Isaac and hadn’t been ready for a relationship. I wasn’t the kind of girl who could do the casual sex thing. Well, maybe I could have been, but there was something about Cameron that made me want more.

“Damn you. This is all your damn fault!”

I ended up going to bed way early. I hoped it would get my mind off Cameron. I was sick of thinking about him and longing for him. I came up with a plan to have Hannah come over for the weekend. We could go out, and I could find another man to sink my claws into. This time, I would pick a real one-nighter that wouldn’t leave me longing for something more.

How hard could that be in a city like Nashville?