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  “That was wonderful, ma’am,” the guy in the control room said, seeming really starstruck. They wouldn’t start recording until the producer arrived. This session was for the benefit of the mixer and audio guys, to get things tweaked, and would hopefully make things go smoother when whoever Sophie’s longtime label, Banu Records, sent over arrived.

  “Quit with the ma’am stuff. It’s Sophie.” Her mother had a way about her that made it easy to gather new fans, no matter how young or old they were.

  “Thank you, Sophie, and we’ll go ahead and take it from the top. We’re hoping to get through two today, and the rest in the couple of weeks Banu set aside for you.”

  Victoria was encouraged as Sophie drank four bottles of water and a cup of coffee while they worked and didn’t take long in the restroom when she excused herself. Sophie actually appeared sober by the time they wrapped, a little after five. That gave them time to have dinner before they headed to the Opry.

  “I’m not hungry, but I do need to lie down for an hour. You should’ve thought about the strain of a day like this before you scheduled stuff.” Sophie leaned back and closed her eyes in the passenger seat as Victoria started her car. “You’ve been here long enough to know better.”

  “I do know better, Mom. This was to warm up your voice for tonight. I know how you feel about the Opry over any other venue.”

  “Shut up—stop being patronizing, and bring me home.” Sophie was acting like a petulant child, and it was about to get worse. Victoria could feel it in her gut, like an old man could feel rain coming in his arthritic joints.

  “Mom, we don’t have time to go back to Brentwood. If you need to lie down, you can come to my place.” Once Weston had moved in with her mother, she’d found an apartment in town.

  “Call Weston and have him meet me there, then. He can bring me tonight.”

  The word fuck replaced the string of damns in her head, and she took a deep breath to calm her thoughts. “Mom, do you think that’s a good idea? You and Weston like to have a good time, and tonight isn’t about that.”

  “Let’s remember our places, okay? And you could do with a little fun yourself. All you need to do right now is keep my schedule and make sure everyone’s paid. That’s it. I’m responsible for me, and it’s been me who’s gotten this far.”

  Victoria sighed at Sophie’s cruelty. Only an unlucky few got to see this side of her, and Victoria always got the brunt of it. “Sonny Liner gave you a warning after what happened in Baton Rouge. Do you remember that?”

  The way Sophie grabbed her arm and tightened her fingers made Victoria swerve the car. “Sonny Liner knows as well as I do that the Banu label would be shit without me as its cornerstone. If you’re smart, you’ll shut up about Baton Rouge. There was nothing to that except bad timing.”

  “I don’t think he was kidding, but you know best, so I’ll remember my place.” It was an unkind thought that came to her as she said it, but if the head of her mother’s label finally got fed up with her, they’d cancel her contract and Victoria would be free.

  “Don’t get dramatic on me, sugar. Spending all day locked in a studio puts me in a bad mood, but I’ll feel better after a nap.” Sophie relaxed her hand into more of a caress, but as usual, it was too little too late.

  “You know best, and you have a key, so I’ll see you later. I know you hate me saying it, but try to remember how important tonight and this album are. Tonight is the beginning of the PR buildup Banu is doing before it’s released. You’ve got to be on your A-game.” There was no way she was going to hang around and get yelled at for the rest of the afternoon. Her mother liked reminding her that she was an adult and responsible for her own decisions, and those decisions had landed her on top of the charts. And to add to that, Weston gave Victoria the creeps.

  “It’ll be a show no one will forget.” Sophie opened the door before the car stopped, having spotted Weston lounging on Victoria’s front steps.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  * * *

  “How can you say no?”

  Mason Liner glanced up at the waitress before turning her attention to the young guy who’d begged for a meeting. She couldn’t remember his name. “Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm for your girlfriend—”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said with the indignity of an old church marm in a whorehouse on a Sunday.

  “Kid, never start any negotiation with bullshit. You love this girl, and good for you, but the last thing Nashville needs is another Taylor Swift lookalike in everything but the height and talent. Get her a few gigs on Broadway, then give me a call, but try some voice lessons first.” She put her hand out for him to shake, hopeful he’d recognize it as closure to their meeting. It was doubtful any of the bars along the famous street that was Nashville’s entertainment district would hire this girl to do anything but bus tables.

  “The regular, Mason?” the waitress asked when she came back. They’d both watched the slow walk of rejection the guy had done, but that wouldn’t be the last time he’d do it, so it was good he was getting some practice in.

  “Let’s mix it up and have it with fries this time.” She smiled when the woman kissed her before going to put her steak order in.

  That order and the table where Mason was sitting had been her Friday night ritual for the last six months. Skull’s Rainbow Room wasn’t at all a new place in Nashville, but a lot of the locals sometimes forgot it served up great food as well as good entertainment. On Fridays, though, after the band and the dinner service, they’d added burlesque, and Madame Belle Lenox was the only woman she’d ever known who’d turned down a recording deal.

  What Mason hadn’t turned down was an invitation for a drink at Belle’s place the first night she’d come to see the show, and that had turned into a mutually satisfying relationship with very few of those annoying strings that usually came with spending time in a woman’s bed. Belle was a little older than her, but the way she worked a crowd and danced made you forget everything but Belle.

  Her cell phone flashed on the table, and she was surprised to see her father’s name on the screen. Friday nights were usually his time to sit in his recliner in his boxers, eat wings, and drink a few beers with her mother. Business was put on the back burner on Friday nights.

  “Hey, Pop.”

  “How’s my little Buckaroo?”

  She laughed at the nickname and at how her dad’s voice made her happy. “Good, I’m having a steak at Skull’s, and we put the finishing touches on Colt Kenny’s tour. All I need is an opening band, and we can start advertising.” She nodded at the waitress as she put her plate down, and Mason immediately salted everything on it. “And I’m an inch taller than you, so keep that in mind when you call me little anything.”

  “Little Buckaroo sounds better than big Amazon, so keep that in mind.”

  Mason heard her mother laughing in the background.

  “You should thank me for your good looks, and hopefully you can do it in person tomorrow. Are you free around ten?”

  “For you I’m always free, Papa. I’ll come earlier than that and bring some doughnuts.”

  “Good. Just one more thing, and I hope it’s not messing up your night, but I need you to head to the Opry and catch Sophie’s set. The studio called me today, and we might have some problems on the horizon when it comes to Ms. Roddy, and that’s going to be one of the things we need to talk about tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be happy to, Pop,” she said, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. “I’ll see you in the morning. Do you need anything else?”

  “All I need is to see you and that brilliant brain of yours you got from your mama. The great hair and eyes—that’s all me.”

  “At least you have me to remind you what great hair used to look like.”

  “You’re killing me, kid, so bring those doughnuts as well to make it up to me.”

  She laughed at that too as she stared at the black-and-white checkered lino
leum stage floor where Elvis, then a nobody, had been given a chance to perform. Skull’s had been the first stop for a lot of famous names, and another reason Mason liked it. And all the women backstage ready to dance weren’t a bad reason to visit either.

  Belle came out an hour later with her signature big yellow feathered boa and prowled the stage as she sang, looking like the truest definition of a sexy woman. The boa dropped on Mason’s head as Belle winked at her, but every pair of eyes in the room stayed on Belle. Her body in a sheath dress was something songs should be written about.

  The show was an hour long, and Belle’s girls packed the place and kept the patrons drinking. Skull’s was a Friday night must if you wanted a change of pace from the row of honkytonks on Broadway. Mason downed her drink when the manager waved her over to the end of the bar. The next show wasn’t for another hour, and the band started up again to fill the time.

  “Belle said to go on back,” the guy said, shaking her hand. “And thanks for the recommendation on the band. They’ve been a good addition, and the folks really like them.”

  “Let them start playing their original stuff.” She waved to the lead singer who’d lifted his hand after noticing her. “Trust me, everyone will love them as much as the old standards they’re doing now, and they won’t be around for free much longer.”

  “You signing them?”

  “Not yet, but they have potential, and they have that connection with the crowd you can’t teach.” She stayed for the beginning of their first song before heading to the dressing room past the storage area.

  Belle was in a bustier and fishnet stockings held up by garters when she opened the door, and Mason couldn’t help but stare like a horny teenage boy. “How is it you get better looking every time I see you?” Belle asked.

  “It’s all the dim lighting in these places. It works to my advantage.” She gladly stepped forward when Belle tugged her by the belt and pushed her down on the couch. “You were as gorgeous as ever, and that voice of yours gives me shivers.”

  “Hopefully that’s not the only thing that gave you shivers, lover.” Belle straddled her lap and threaded her fingers into her hair. “You looked so delicious sitting there that I can’t wait for you to bring me home.”

  “Oh yeah?” She untied the top of the bustier and worked it down to expose even more of Belle’s cleavage. “What can’t you wait for?”

  “First I want you to touch me, since I could almost feel your hands on me the way you were staring, and then I need you to fuck me. And I really need you to do that right now, baby.”

  Mason glanced down, enjoying the way the black garters contrasted against Belle’s legs, and how sexy she was with only that and the bustier on. “Are you wet?”

  “Mason, you might get pinched for silly questions. Give me what I want.”

  Belle lifted onto her knees a little when Mason ran two fingers from the opening of her sex to the top of her clit. That made Belle hiss and pull her hair hard enough to cock her head back so she could kiss her.

  “You want it fast or slow?” The way Belle was chasing her fingers with the movement of her hips made it clear.

  “Are you going to fuck me or talk me to death?” Belle bit her bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth. “God,” she said as she stilled when Mason filled her up. “You always know.” Belle moaned when Mason stroked her clit and pressed their foreheads together. “Fuck…fuck me.”

  Mason slid her fingers out and in rapidly, making sure to hit Belle’s clit every time. The sight and feel of her made Mason hard, and she wasn’t stopping until Belle came on her hand. “Let me see you.”

  Belle leaned away from her and tugged the blood-red bustier down until it was well below her breasts, and she moaned when Mason sucked one in. “Yeah, baby, harder.” Mason pressed into the sofa and put her hand behind Belle’s head so she could lean back, giving her room to really move her hand. “Like that, oh, fuck me, like that,” Belle said with her eyes closed. Belle’s hips pumped in rhythm with Mason’s thrusts, and it didn’t take long before Mason felt Belle grip her fingers in the most intimate of ways.

  “You aren’t Nashville’s most sought after producer and record executive for nothing, baby,” Belle said, squeezing her fingers one more time after she came. She leaned forward and kissed Mason before letting her hand go. “You certainly know how to produce all kinds of things in me.”

  “Thank you, and if you form a fan club, I want to be nominated for president.”

  Belle got off her and slipped into the bathroom before coming out in the costume she’d started the show with.

  “Are you in pain, babe, or you want to wait?”

  “You’re a hard one to say no to, but I have to leave early. I promised my father I’d run an errand for him, so I have to get going.”

  “No time for me to return the favor?” Belle asked as she reapplied lipstick.

  “Believe me, I’d like nothing better, but I have to go. Are you okay for a ride?” She usually gave Belle a lift home, but she doubted the night would end anytime soon.

  “I’ll ask one of the girls, and remember, I owe you one.” Belle kissed her and pressed their bodies together.

  “That I won’t forget, and believe me, the chore Sonny assigned me will be doubly hard considering how hard I am at the moment.” She laughed and slapped Belle’s ass. “Have fun tonight.”

  “And you try to do the same.”

  “I’ll do my best, darlin’, but I very much doubt it.” From what her father had said about Sophie, and what she remembered of her past behavior, the rest of her night wasn’t going to be fun at all. “I very much doubt it.”

  Chapter Two

  The Opry was filling with both tourists and locals alike who were there for the variety of acts the place delivered for every show, and backstage, the stagehands were working hard to get everything together. Victoria loved the history and tradition of it, and the way people still embraced it. Some of it was corny, but in the end it was all about the music.

  “Where’s Sophie?” Bryce asked when he joined her right offstage.

  “She should be here by now. Weston texted they were on their way. Traffic, maybe?” She went from enjoying the atmosphere to full-blown anxiety.

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  “Let me go find out.” The entrance for the performers was behind her, and as she headed for it, the show started. There was a new band opening, but they were only doing two numbers before Sophie would be introduced for her first set. Once the show got started she’d come out again a few times before they wrapped up. Sophie should have been there way before now.

  “Did Sophie Roddy arrive?” Victoria asked the doorman. “I’m her manager.”

  “She hasn’t checked in yet.”

  Shit, she should’ve stayed with her. She headed back to her purse for her phone. Maybe Weston or her mom had called and she’d missed it. “She’s not here,” she said to Bryce as the opening band finished their first song. Weston’s phone went to voice mail, as had Sophie’s. Why the hell did her mother do this? She had everything, and she was throwing it all away.

  The band was done, and the night’s emcee asked them a few questions before introducing Sophie. Bryce and the guys had gotten into place and started playing, and he shrugged when he glanced her way, then winced when he looked over Victoria’s shoulder.

  Her mother swayed past her as she stepped out to a sea of cheering people. She saw the impending disaster when her mother couldn’t make it to the microphone in a straight line. Bryce didn’t stop playing, but Victoria could see his worried expression when Sophie finally made it, though she almost fell backward when she ripped the microphone off the stand.

  “Hey, everybody.” Sophie was slurring her words and teetering like she wasn’t on steady ground. Her speech and her movements seemed to chill the crowd, and silence descended. “Let’s get—” Sophie turned quickly and lost her balance, sending her stumbling backward.

  There was
a collective gasp when Sophie flew off the stage, landing on the floor right in front of the first row. Victoria ran to the edge of the stage and blew out a breath when she saw Sophie was breathing. But her eyes were closed and she wasn’t responding, no matter how much Bryce yelled at her from where he knelt beside Victoria.

  The stage manager called for help and brought out a blanket to hold in front of Sophie to protect her from the people taking pictures and video. Victoria was lowered down with Bryce to where Sophie still lay, and she couldn’t stop the tears of disbelief. There would be no glossing this over. Her mother’s career was over.

  “Vic, we need to move her,” Bryce said.

  Her gaze stayed on her mom’s chest as she knelt next to her, holding her hand. Losing a career would be a small price to pay if her mom lived, and that’s what she was praying for. “Help is on its way, and I don’t want to hurt her more.”

  She heard running along the wood floor of the stage, and an EMT was next to her a second later. They worked to stabilize Sophie and were able to leave by the side of the stage. Victoria heard the emcee ask everyone to pray for her mother and that the evening’s show would continue. Who gave a crap about that?

  Bryce gave her a ride to the hospital, since she was shaking so badly after watching the EMTs speed away with their lights and sirens on, as if time wasn’t on their side. They followed when they rushed Sophie into the ER, where a doctor administered medication to counteract the effects of whatever Sophie had taken. It took a few minutes before Sophie started to show signs of life, and Victoria had to sit, her knees were so weak.

  She couldn’t quite pinpoint what to feel, considering both relief and terror were at war in her chest. Her mother didn’t seem to care anymore, but Victoria couldn’t get to that place. Sophie was her mother and she loved her, but watching this decline was making her ache, and there was no cure for it. Her desire to be enough for her mother flitted through her head again, but nothing in the world would grant her that, so she concentrated on Sophie’s face.