Face the Music Read online

  “I know plenty, and you aren’t alone.” It was the first of a string of hard days, but compassion might make it easier. “You’re not alone.”

  * * *

  The rest of the night was spent listening to Sophie scream, then moan when it sounded like she was too tired to raise her voice any longer. Victoria figured whoever was in the house wasn’t sleeping unless someone had knocked them unconscious. She’d spent hours lying in the big bed in the room Mason had led her to, but aside from her mother, the house was quiet. Hours before she’d heard the door to the room next to hers close, and she guessed she and Mason were neighbors.

  She got up when she heard that door open again as dawn started coloring the sky and saw Mason sneaking by in bare feet. Mason stopped when she cleared her throat. “Good morning—not that there’s anything remotely good about it after last night, but I’m sorry for all of this.” Victoria was stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. No one put themselves through something like this if they weren’t trying to do something good.

  “I knew what I was signing up for. Don’t apologize.” Mason put her boots down and walked back to her. “How about taking a break somewhere quieter?”

  “Is it in another state?”

  Mason smiled, making those damn dimples reappear. “Was that a joke, Miss Roddy?”

  “Blame it on the noise, stress, and exhaustion. Don’t get used to it.” She kept smiling as she said it and genuinely enjoyed Mason’s laugh.

  “Put on some shoes, and I’ll give you a break.”

  “Give me a minute.” She changed out of her wrinkled shirt and threw on a T-shirt with a sweatshirt over it. “I know I’ve been a royal bitch since we met, but thank you for doing this. You’re probably sick of the Roddy family already, but we appreciate you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Miss Roddy. I’m just happy you agreed because you and your mom deserve a chance. It’s no one’s fault we’re here, and you’ll see—it’ll get better.” The outside was cool, and the early light painted the expanse of land in soft pinks.

  The vista was beautiful, and she stopped to appreciate the area and the horses that were grazing on the other side of the white fence that seemed to go on for miles. That Mason had money was plain from the house and where it sat, but she wasn’t dressed like the lord of the manor—this morning, Mason wore an old denim jacket and scruffy boots. The sweat stained hat completed the look, and Victoria liked this version of Mason better than the executive who’d shown up to deal with Sophie.

  “Will my break include some kind of manual labor?” She followed Mason down the hill, feeling her toes getting wet as the dew on the grass soaked into her shoes. It didn’t take long for a house closer to the water to come into view, and it appeared original to the property even though it was in pristine condition.

  “You’re safe from hard work since I’ll take care of that, but you do have an assignment for today.” Mason walked up the few steps and unlocked the door. “This house was here when I purchased the land, but the insurance folks wanted me to build farther up the hill because of seasonal flooding.”

  “They should’ve seen this place before deciding that. It’s beautiful, and more importantly, it’s still here. That should count for something.” The space was open with a bank of windows that overlooked the river.

  “The water comes close every year, but thankfully it’s never flooded. My mom did a great job of redoing it to fit what I wanted, and it reminds me every day that you shouldn’t toss things out because they’re no longer a safe bet.” Mason opened the door to the back porch and went out. “Everyone told me to tear this place down since it was in pitiful shape, but I love it more than the big house. It was worth saving.”

  “You’re good at convincing me that things will be okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and the move made Mason lead her back inside to what appeared to be a home office.

  “Nah, no one has ever accused me of being that slick. I’m just talking about the house.” There were some awards on the bookshelves, but mostly they held books, lots of them, and their spines were cracked, indicating they’d been read. “I find that couch is really good for naps, or for enjoying a good book. Stretch out and close your eyes for however long you want. You’re safe from the flood,” Mason said, pointing outside where the river level actually appeared low. “There’s stuff in the fridge if you get thirsty, and if you need anything, head up the hill to the house. The staff will get you whatever you need.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Jeb and I are riding fences this morning. Some sections need repair, and he keeps telling me they won’t fix themselves.” Mason held her hat against her body, resembling a polite cowboy from a long ago past.

  “You’re full of comments that could be taken another way,” she said, sitting on the sofa. “And thanks for this. The quiet is almost deafening. Does that make sense?”

  “Perfectly. Take that nap, and I’ll be by later, or I can stay away if you need some time to yourself.” Mason waved and her footsteps sounded loud on the wood floor of the porch.

  She walked to the front to see what direction Mason headed off in, and she stayed by the window until the trees seemed to swallow Mason up. Whatever this place was, it appeared lived in from the piles of paperwork on the desk to the music sheets scattered on the piano in the main space. There were also some guitars on stands with chairs and music stands close to them.

  “Recording studio?” she said out loud. That couldn’t be it either, since there was still ambient noise even if the place was peaceful.

  There was also a great stereo system with a turntable that was state-of-the-art, giving Mason points for knowing the best way to enjoy music. Mason had left a record on the turntable, which made her curious—that wasn’t the norm for true LP connoisseurs. That it was a compilation of her mother’s greatest hits surprised her, but then it didn’t. What Mason was doing for her mother wasn’t simply to keep someone under contract. You didn’t bring that kind of hassle in without mostly pure motives.

  “What’s your story?”

  She snooped a little more, but nothing too invasive. The desk and its scattering of papers were off-limits, but she stared at it, then followed Mason’s advice. She stretched out on the couch and used the soft blanket across the back. It smelled of citrus with a hint of sandalwood, and it reminded her of Mason. She hadn’t thought she’d noticed much about her in their short meetings, but obviously her subconscious had.

  Her nap lasted three hours, and to chase away the grogginess she moved to the other room and sat at the piano. It was a Steinway and the nicest instrument she’d ever laid her hands on. “Of course it is. Nothing but the best, Ms. Liner.”

  She closed her eyes and started playing one of the first classical pieces she’d learned, and the music transported her to a better place. That was one of the things she loved about playing, and something she wished her mother would remember. This was better than any drug or alcohol, and it totally filled her soul. There, in the peace and quiet, she felt more like herself than she had in far, far too long.

  Chapter Six

  Mason put her jacket back on knowing the breeze off the water would cool the sweat she’d built up. It was a nice morning of work where the only things she had to concentrate on were not bashing her fingers with a hammer and talking about fishing with Jeb. She would’ve kept working, but Jeb gave her a gentle hint about going to check on her guest and offering lunch.

  The walk to the river house didn’t take long, and she stopped to watch Victoria at the piano. She couldn’t hear what she was playing, but she seemed to put all of herself into the music, and the unguarded expression on her face made Mason really look at her. Victoria Roddy was a beautiful woman who was mad at the world, and she wasn’t about to let anyone within ten feet of her. It didn’t detract from her beauty, but Mason wondered about the passion beneath the anger.

  “You don’t let anyone in, so no one can hurt you. I think that’s your philosophy.” She stayed in the trees, not wanting to embarrass her. Or piss her off, which seemed to be a talent of hers.

  She waited until Victoria’s hands came up almost reverently before doubling back to make it look like she was just coming up from the barn. Victoria had stepped onto the back porch and lifted her hand in a hesitant wave, and it made Mason walk faster. Victoria didn’t appear as haunted as she had earlier, which hopefully meant she’d gotten some sleep.

  “The couch work its magic?”

  Victoria smiled and nodded. “It did, and I appreciate you lending it to me. Is this like your office?”

  Mason leaned against the split wood railing, which felt rough even through Mason’s jeans—she was loath to change it, since it was original to the house. Victoria had mirrored her pose for only a second before taking a seat on one of the deck chairs.

  “I use it as a satellite when I don’t feel like putting on grown-up clothes, and I also have people come out to…work through their stuff, when it’s necessary.”

  Victoria cocked her head to the left as if trying to figure out what she meant. “You sound as qualified as your pal up there helping my mother.”

  “I’m no therapist, believe me. Not in that sense, anyway.” She remembered her manners and took her hat off, combing her hair back. “My therapy sessions are more centered around helping artists find what works and taking away what doesn’t.”

  “You’re a producer, aren’t you?”

  Mason wasn’t a fan of Twenty Questions, but Victoria was talking and she wanted to keep it up. “That’s one of the hats I wear for my father, but not necessarily the one I enjoy the most.”

  “I’m guessing babysitter isn’t it, either.” Victoria gave her that slight, small smile that lightened her eyes.

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nbsp; She laughed at that and shook her head. “The music business is changing all the time because people’s attention span is as short as the life of a mayfly.”

  Victoria put her hand up again. “I’m sorry, what’s a mayfly?”

  “They’re insects that only live for a few hours. There’s about three thousand species of them around the world, and I think they exist to remind me that we shouldn’t waste time on the things that aren’t important. Life should be enjoyed and spent trying to help people achieve all they can.”

  “You’re an interesting person.” Victoria wrapped her hands around her knees and gazed up at her with an open expression.

  “I’m a person with a lot of trivia in my head, but I try to use it in everyday life.” She bounced her hat on her leg and moved to sit on the railing.

  “What do mayflies have to do with the music industry?”

  “The newcomers, as well as some artists who’ve been around for a while, have to find ways to stay on the charts and on people’s minds, but not go crazy trying to do it. It’s what makes the Sophie Roddys of the world rare commodities.” She was probably boring Victoria to tears but her eyes hadn’t glazed over yet. “My job is to make sure our artists stay in the public eye while staying true to themselves and happy.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Victoria said, combing her hair back behind her ears and maintaining eye contact.

  “Very few people have the ability to change genres of music without paying the price in either public ridicule or by going down in flames. Think of Hank Williams or Patsy Cline releasing a rap album. That’s a drastic example, but some people chase the next chart topper at the expense of who they are. Once you lose your identity to chase fame or money, you’re already lost.”

  Victoria nodded and smiled again. “And the new artists out there waiting to be discovered?”

  “Those are my favorite people to work with sometimes because it’s my job to help them find themselves and chart that course. To figure out who they are as artists.” Her stomach chose that moment to rumble. “How about we continue this over lunch? It’s what I came to ask you.”

  The way Victoria glanced over her shoulder, as if she could see the main house, convinced Mason she wasn’t interested in going back. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “I was thinking of going out for a drive, but you can stay here if you like.” She dropped down to the porch and waited. “I’d like it if you came, though.”

  “Do I need to change? Not that I’m a slave to fashion”—Victoria plucked at her sweatshirt—“but I’d rather not go out in this. It’s got a hole in it.”

  “I need to shower since I stink, which will give you plenty of time. Are you okay to go back in?”

  “Actually, I feel guilty for spending all this time out here.”

  She opened the door for Victoria and allowed her in first, and then they walked through the house and left by way of the front door. “I spoke with Cassandra, who’s in charge while Belle takes a break until tonight. The real withdrawal has begun, and they’ve had to replace the IV lines a few times since Sophie’s not in a good mood.” They started their walk back up to Blue Heaven, and while she didn’t want to mess up their afternoon, Cassandra had made a suggestion she wanted to share with Victoria. “Your mom’s got a ways to go yet, and there’s no reason to make yourself miserable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Cassandra said if you’d be more comfortable, you could go home until Sophie’s in better shape. She said she’s not in any danger, and it can be hard to listen to.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I want to stay. I’d only worry myself sick at home.”

  “That’s understandable, and the river house is open to you whenever you like. If I’m not around, the keys are hanging at the back door in the kitchen.” They made their way inside where moaning and cursing were immediately heard.

  “God, you must find this is so pathetic.” Victoria slumped against the wall, her eyes closed.

  “Neither you nor your mother is pathetic. Think of this as having the flu. Right now we’re waiting for the fever to break, and once it does, we can start working so that Sophie doesn’t get the flu again.” She put the keys back and started for the stairs. “Granted, getting there will require plenty of this pissy version of Sophie, so get used to it.”

  “I was about to accuse you of having too much of a sunny disposition, but that last part has your usual blunt way of going about things.” Victoria stopped at her door, her smile gone.

  “Would you rather I sugarcoat things? I can, if it’ll make you feel better.”

  Victoria looked at her for a moment, then down at the floor. “No, that’d be worse, I think.”

  It was all Victoria said before disappearing into the guestroom. “She’s cute, but murder on my ego,” Mason said to herself as she stepped into the shower.

  * * *

  Mason checked her messages for anything urgent before knocking on Victoria’s door and finding her in nice jeans and a sweater that showed plenty of cleavage. She had no business looking, but pretty girls and cleavage had a way of overpowering her sense of reason. Victoria was definitely in the unreasonable but pretty category of girls.

  “Any requests, or do you want me to choose?” She opened the truck door for Victoria and closed it after her, giving her a chance to think about the answer as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “You go ahead, so we don’t get into one of those circular conversations about who picks.”

  Mason nodded, turned the radio on, and started driving. It took a while to arrive at the Loveless Cafe, and as usual it was packed with what appeared to be mostly tourists. She parked under the trees in the back and got Victoria’s door again.

  “I haven’t been here in a million years. My grandfather loved this place.” Victoria pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and followed her in through the kitchen door.

  “It’s Sunday, and their hot chicken is good, but the Hashbrown Casserole keeps me coming back.” She greeted the kitchen crew before one of the waitresses showed them to a table.

  “Sweet tea for you, and your usual.” The young woman pointed her pen at Mason, then pressed it to the pad when she glanced at Victoria.

  “The same, thank you.” Victoria studied the menu but only for a moment. “You’re surprising at times, but then I don’t know you very well, and you could be this spontaneous all the time.”

  “I’m like most people, Miss Roddy. I grew up in Nashville and spent a lot of years thinking I needed to get out of here so I wouldn’t have to grow up in my father’s shadow. Then I got my wish.”

  “You left, you mean?”

  The waitress dropped the drinks off with a plate of biscuits and left them alone again. “I’ve been in LA for the last three years, and I didn’t hate it.”

  Victoria tore her biscuit open and nodded. “Does that mean you didn’t love it?”

  “I was working and exploring the area and the talent, but there wasn’t anyplace like this. Maybe some people think it’s corny, but sometimes corny is what it takes to make you happy.” She spread strawberry preserves and butter on her biscuit and took a big bite. “Leaving is what it took to make me find that sense that I belong here.”

  “There hasn’t been much to make me or Mom happy lately, and maybe that’s what’s added to our problems.”

  That uncomfortable feeling that seemed to radiate off Victoria like a heater in winter was back.

  “Once you know what makes you happy, it’s not that hard to achieve.”

  “That’s not so easy sometimes. How do you find happiness if you know leaving to find it might endanger someone else?”

  Mason nodded, understanding the underlying issue. “Life gives us all choices, and what we do with those gives the truest sense I’ve ever gotten about what makes us human.” Since her usual was one of their most popular dishes, their food didn’t take long to arrive, and she smiled when Victoria sighed.

  “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “Your mom chose music, and she’s been successful, but then she also chose to try to kill herself with pills,” Mason said softly since their conversation wasn’t anyone’s business. “One brought her happiness, I’d guess, and the other nothing but pain. We’re all flawed in some way, but we all have to find that balance that makes those horrible choices manageable. A balance that still allows us to be happy.”