Someone feeling small, Track? Need to bully me to make yourself feel like more of a man?But she didn’t say that. She just smiled coolly and shook her head. “I can’t talk about the album without my agent, unfortunately. I’m sorry you came all this way.”
“We’re visiting Amber’s parents. Not that far.” He hooked his thumbs into his jean pockets. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
He didn’t need to spell out the reason for his visit. He didn’t like the songs she’d cut for the new album. And he’d shown up before her show to make sure she knew that as she went onstage. White hot anger slammed through her. “Definitely a conversation to have with my agent.”
“I don’t want this to turn into a big thing just yet.”
“Bless your heart for thinking of me, Track.” She slid past him, shaking now.
He snapped his arm out and hooked his fingers around her elbow. “Hang on.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“I’m doing a cover of ‘Forget Me Not’ with Gina Bellingham. We’re going into the studio after the show in Washington on the fourth of July.”
She physically recoiled, stumbling into the door. “What?”
She hated that song. But it wasstill her song.
“You took it off your set list for this tour. The label thinks we can revitalize it with a fresh sound.” He sighed and pushed himself upright, sliding his thumbs into his pockets. Pretending he was casual about this conversation.
Neither of them were ever casual about a conversation between them. Ever. Eight years of tension and anger and resentment still simmered hard beneath the surface.
“Then I suppose that’s your prerogative.” She shrugged, a quick jerk of her shoulders that she regretted because it revealed just how much he affected her. She hated that she’d let him get under her skin.
“I took a look at your set list—”
“Okay, we’re done here.”
“‘Cravings’ isn’t the right tone for you, Liana.” He gave her a look that anyone else would read as concerned.
She saw the judging sneer. Heard the censure in his voice.Don’t be slutty,he meant.
“I have to get out there,” she said instead of all the things she wanted to say.
“Have a good show.” He smiled, and the coldness of it hurt so much she wanted to cry.
Good thing she was starting with a sad song. All the feels, delivered straight to the Savannah fans courtesy of Track Fucking Gantley.
America’s favourite singer.
Liana’s private enemy—and her boss for at least one more album.
She grabbed her gargle bottle and swept out into the hall before Track could say anything else. Her band members were already milling around, and she gave them all a quick smile.
Let’s do this.
Jackie Billings, her lead guitar, narrowed her eyes as she glanced over Liana’s shoulder. Shit. She didn’t need her worrying. She gave Jackie a wink to say,it’s all good. It wasn’t. This tour had been a terrible idea. They were six weeks into it and each night she was getting progressively wound tighter.
She was pretty sure Jackie was the only one who noticed or cared. The older woman didn’t have a lot of love for Track, either, but Liana’s drummer and bass player both did, so the women kept their opinions on the down low.
The only thing worse than Liana being miserable on tour would be tensions flaring in other directions as well.
Jackie might think that Track was a pig, but she was a professional. And it wasn’t like the rest of their industry was made up of sensitive feminists, either. Nashville was a hard town to be a woman in, which was ironic, because it was a town that celebrates female singers in a way that rock never had.
But the hoops those vaunted stars needed to jump through…
Liana had learned the hard way that sometimes it just wasn’t possible to please the kingmakers.
