“Excellent interview, Corbin. Good luck with the tour.”
“Thanks.”
Corbin shook the reporter’s hand before taking a long drink from his water bottle. It was his fifth interview of the afternoon, and he was bored out of his mind.
As soon as the guy was gone, Karin was instantly by his side.
“Fantastic job, Corbin.”
“You’ve said that every time.”
“I mean it every time.”
“But I’m saying the same crap. Same questions. Same answers.”
“And you’re doing it spectacularly. Ready for a break?”
“Definitely.”
“Follow me.”
Karin had been an angel throughout his first week in Los Angeles. Constantly at his side and leading him to wherever he needed to go next. Corbin breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that, right now, she was leading him straight to the sanctuary of his hotel room.
“I know it gets tedious,” Karin said as they sat down on the couch. “But you’re doing a great job.”
“Doesn’t feel that way, but thanks.”
She grinned as she scrolled through her phone. “This will cheer you up. Someone’s getting rave reviews for his acoustic performance at The Cork Lounge.”
Last night, Karin had invited Corbin to dinner at one of her favorite restaurants in Sherman Oaks. Or so he thought. Instead, Karin practically dragged him up on stage and told him to play two songs. Corbin nearly puked, but he did it. He played his two songs—one old, one new—and when he was done, the crowd went wild.
“I seriously considered firing you last night.”
Karin grinned. “Whatever. You needed a practice session. And you were awesome. The guys loved the music, and the women loved you.”
Once upon a time, those words would have thrilled Corbin. But, if last night’s impromptu concert taught him anything, it was that something in his soul had changed over the past five years. While he’d never loved the stage, he always managed to get lost in the lyrics, in the melody, in the audience, and forget everything else. At the end of his shows, he’d always felt wired and energized. Ready to party. Ready for girls. Ready for anything.
But last night was different.
When he walked off that stage, Corbin had felt nothing but relief that it was over.
“Maybe you just need some time to readjust,” Jolie had told him last night on the phone. And maybe she was right. But for the life of him, Corbin couldn’t believe that his younger self had ever loved this life. The bright lights and screaming fans had been nice for his ego, but it held zero appeal to him now.
That’s probably not something you want to share with your manager.
“I’m booking you at The Troubadour on Friday night,” Karin said.
“Another practice session?”
She nodded. “Small venue. Full set. Are you up for it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really, because next week, the label wants you to join Indie Fest in Oklahoma City. You’ll be opening for some big names. If you have stage fright, we need to work through it before you get there.”
“I don’t have stage fright.”
“Really? Because you almost threw up last night.”
“I’m not afraid of the stage. I’m afraid of being booed off stage.”
“Which didn’t happen. And it won’t. We need to work on your confidence, which is why The Troubadour is a great venue. I’m booking it. Don’t argue.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
With a grin, Karin typed out a text.
“Oh, I got another call from Ashton Rhodes.”
Corbin grimaced. The record label exec had been a thorn in his side ever since he arrived in California. Thankfully, he hadn’t had to deal with her much. Karin handled it all.
“You’re getting a tour bus, and the band will be here in a few days. They’re picking us up on the way to OKC.”
“Sweet. Wait . . . us?”
“Yes. I’m going out on the road with you.”
It wasn’t unusual for managers to travel with the artist, but since Karin owned the agency, Corbin just assumed she’d have more important things to handle back in Nashville.
“You must really not trust me,” he muttered.
“Why? Because I’m willing to travel on a tour bus with you for three months?”
Corbin nodded.
Karin sighed. “I won’t lie. I do want to keep an eye on things. But it’s not because I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it.” Karin glanced down at her phone. “By the way, I’m supposed to remind you that, in your interviews, the label would like for you to appear to be available. Ashton seems to think women won’t flock backstage if they know you have a girlfriend.”
“From what I recall, women like that don’t usually care if you have a girlfriend or not.”
“That’s exactly what I said, but I told her I’d pass it along.”
“I won’t lie about having a girlfriend.”
“And I don’t think you should.”
“Good.”
His manager smiled. “You have one more interview this afternoon. How does a nap sound?”
Corbin kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa. “Like heaven.”
“I’m gonna go make some calls,” she said, heading for the door. “I’ll wake you in a couple hours.”
After his long nap, Corbin and Karin headed down the hall to the hotel suite that was doubling as the press room while he was in town.
“This interview is with the Dallas Morning News,” Karin explained as they walked. “Her name’s Selena. Super sweet reporter.”
“And you told her no personal questions?” Corbin didn’t mind talking about his private life, but reporters sometimes liked to delve a little too deeply. Karin knew to shut it down immediately if things became uncomfortable.
“She got the same speech as all the other reporters. She’s gonna want to talk about the Indie Fest, so please pretend to be excited about it. You’ll be in Dallas in a few weeks. That’s why she’s here.”
“Got it.”
They stepped inside the room, both stopping in their tracks when they saw Ashton Rhodes standing on the balcony, sharing a smoke with the reporter.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Karin muttered under her breath.
Good question. With a heavy sigh, Corbin followed his manager into the suite. They both plastered on smiles when the women walked into the room.
“Nice to meet you, Corbin. I’m Selena Taylor. Big fan of your music.”
“Thanks, Selena.”
Everyone sat down, with Ashton taking a seat directly across from Corbin. It was unusual for the label to sit in on interviews, so Corbin could only assume he’d done something wrong. Why else would Ashton be there, gazing at him so intently?
Selena turned on her recorder.
“Corbin, it’s great to have you back on the music scene. What’s brought you out of hiding?”
He’d only answered this question a thousand times this week, so he gave her his practiced response.
“I missed the fans, and I’m really proud of my new music. Callum Records made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so here I am.”
Corbin glanced at Ashton, who was smiling.
Okay, so she’s not pissed. Why is she here?
“I understand you’ll be joining Indie Fest in OKC next week?”
Corbin nodded. “I can’t wait to get back to Oklahoma. The crowds have always been awesome there.”
“Your Texas fans have missed you, too,” Selena said.
“And I’ve missed them. We’ll be in Dallas in a few weeks.”
After a few more questions about the tour, Selena switched to more personal topics.
“Your new music seems to be more intimate now,” she said. “Has Corbin James finally grown up? Or has he just found his muse?”
“Both.”
He heard Ashton politely clear her throat, but Selena’s interest was piqued.
“Is that so? Care to elaborate?”
“I’ve done a lot of soul-searching over the past few years. I’ve had to. And with that, I’ve matured as a man. Naturally, that’s going to reflect in my songwriting.”
“And what about your muse? Are we to assume that Corbin James has found a reason to settle down?”
“I have.”
He thought he heard Ashton mutter a curse under her breath.
“Really? Is she in the music business?”
“Move along, Selena,” Karin said, her warning kind but firm.
The reporter got the hint and dropped the subject, moving on to questions about the upcoming album. While Corbin refused to lie about being in love, he wasn’t ready to expose Jolie to the rest of the world. The tabloids would circle like vultures, just hoping for a snapshot of Corbin James’ girlfriend.
“This was great,” Selena said, switching off her recorder. “I appreciate your time, Corbin. Can’t wait to see you in Dallas.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks for coming, Selena. I’ll walk you out,” Karin said.
Ashton was still staring at him, so Corbin pretended to check his phone until his manager walked back into the room.
“Corbin, why don’t you check out the view from the balcony? I’d like to talk to Ashton. Alone.”
“No problem. I need to make some calls, anyway.”
Grateful to have an escape, Corbin put his sunglasses on and made his way out onto the balcony, leaving the door slightly open so he could eavesdrop. Leaning against the wall, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it close to his ear, pretending to make a call.
“The label doesn’t usually send an exec to sit in on interviews. What are you doing here, Ashton?”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Karin.”
“Cut the crap. Do you have a problem with the way I’m handling Corbin’s press?”
“I have a problem with Corbin not playing by the rules. He is to appear single at all times. I’ve emphasized that, more than once. And yet, every time he’s asked about a girlfriend, he admits he has one. So, either you aren’t relaying my messages, or Corbin’s ignoring them. Which is it?”
“I don’t recall anything in Corbin’s contract saying he can’t have a girlfriend. Perhaps I need to call his lawyer to help me find it.”
“Karin, you know how this business works—”
“I know how you think it works, but Corbin James isn’t a teenage heartthrob anymore. He’s grown up, and so have his fans. I think they can handle the fact that he’s a man in love. The question is can you handle it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what that means. You don’t give a shit about the fans. Your reputation precedes you, Ashton.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I saw the way you were gawking at him during that interview. It was far, far from professional. I’m warning you. Stay away from him. If you don’t, I’ll tell him to sue your ass for sexual harassment. From what I understand, it wouldn’t be the first time Callum Records had to go to court because you couldn’t keep your hands off the musicians. Don’t mess with me or my client. Are we clear?”
A deathly silence hung in the air until Corbin heard a slamming door.
“You can come in now. I know you were listening.”
Corbin stalked back into the room. “What the hell, Karin?”
“Remember when you wondered why I would willingly live on a tour bus for three months? She’s the reason. I wanted to be around in case she became a problem.”
“Is she going to be one?”
“She’d be committing career suicide if she tried. But, yeah, she could cause some issues. With the label. With the tabloids.”
“With Jolie?”
“Does she know Jolie?”
“Yeah. She’s even visited the bookstore.”
Karin cursed under her breath. Corbin felt his stomach bubble with panic. A pissed off studio exec was never good, but with his history of trouble, Ashton could really do some damage.
“I’ll handle her, Corbin.”
“You’d better. If not, I’ll pack my bags and be back in Riverview by dawn.”
“You’ll be in breach of contract.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He took a deep breath. “Sorry. Just, please—”
“I know. I’ll take care of it.”
Corbin thanked her and headed back to his room.
“Thanks for listening, guys. I’m Corbin James. Have a great night.”
The Troubadour audience roared as he walked off stage and carried his guitar back to his dressing room. Corbin had played an hour set—the longest he’d played in years—and he couldn’t deny it felt great. The crowd loved the new music, which gave him hope that he might not get booed off stage in Oklahoma City.
“Fantastic set,” Karin said, greeting him as he walked through the door to his dressing room. “I think I almost detected a smile while you were up there.”
Corbin grinned. “I’m trying.”
“You’re doing great. You sound even better. To celebrate, I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?”
“Ready to see your tour bus and meet your band?”
“Right now?”
“It’s parked out back.”
“Hell yes.”
Corbin placed his guitar in its case and followed Karin through the exit door leading to the back of the venue, where a sleek, black tour bus was waiting for him. It wasn’t the biggest bus he’d ever seen, but that didn’t matter. A tour bus meant no more hotels, and to Corbin, that sounded like heaven.
They climbed onboard, where Corbin shook hands with Zeke, the driver. He then followed Karin to the back, where three guys were sitting on the long couch next to the window.
“Corbin James,” one of them said in a thick Irish brogue. The man stood up and offered his hand. “I’m Liam Walsh. Keyboards. This is Randall Dillon on bass, and Jay Lockhart on drums.”
Corbin shook their hands and sat down with them on the leather couch. For the next hour, the guys got to know each other and took a tour of the bus. It was around midnight when the driver announced it was time to head out.
“That’s my cue,” Karin said. “According to Zeke, it’s 1,328 miles to Oklahoma City. I am taking one very large sleeping pill and climbing into a bunk.”
“You’re riding with us?” Randall asked.
“I am. Is having a girl on the bus gonna be a problem?”
Corbin grinned. It was obvious by the tone of her voice that she didn’t care if it was a problem or not.
Liam laughed. “Not for me. We’re picking up my wife in Albuquerque.”
“And mine’s meeting us in OKC,” Jay said.
Corbin wondered how much input Karin had in choosing his bandmates. Or, had the label chosen to surround him with older, married musicians to help keep him out of trouble? Either way, he was grateful.
“Wives and managers on the tour bus? That didn’t happen back in the good old days,” Randall said with a groan.
Okay, maybe we’re supposed to keep Randall out of trouble.
Liam smirked. “The good old days? What are you, eighteen?”
“Twenty. I’m just saying . . .”
“Randall, think about it this way,” Karin said. “More groupies for you.”
“That’s true. And for Corbin.”
“Not for me.” Corbin turned and smiled at his manager. “You’re not sleeping in a bunk. There’s a queen-size bed back there. Take it.”
She didn’t even argue. “Best client ever. Good night, boys.”
Randall waited until the door closed before turning to Corbin.
“So . . .” he said with a grin. “You and the manager?”
“Nope. I have a girlfriend back home.”
He shrugged. “I’m married. Doesn’t stop me.”
“Maybe it should.” Jay smirked.
“Speaking of which, I need to call my wife,” Liam said, standing up and heading toward the bunks. “Good night, boys.”
Jay and Randall headed back, too, leaving Corbin alone on the couch. He glanced down at his phone and sighed.
I wish I could call her.
He and Jolie talked every day on the phone, but it was much harder at night, due to the time difference. It was after three in the morning in Riverview. He’d have to call her tomorrow.
But he could journal tonight.
Corbin reached into his duffel, pulled out his journal, and began to write.
Dear Jolie,
It’s after midnight here in California. Tonight, I’m sleeping on my tour bus. It’s not huge, but it’s decent. My little home on wheels for the next three months. I’ll take a picture of it tomorrow and send it to you.
My band’s here, too. They seem like good guys, although the bassist reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age. He’s just twenty, but that seems like a lifetime ago. I’m such a different person now, and most of that is because of you.
We’re headed to OKC, which is still a long way from home, but a little bit closer than I am now.
I miss home. And you. So much.
Love, Corbin.