The door to Clayton’s room opened and Ruth’s curly blond head popped in.
“Sorry for interrupting,” her assistant said apologetically. “Dusty mentioned you were in here working on a song together but I thoughthe was joking.” She pushed the door open wider. “I figured you’d want to see her.”
“Poppy Rose!” Jamie jumped from the couch and Duke barked with his tail wagging. She took her perfectly groomed poodle from Ruth’s arms and kissed her. “I missed you, Poppy!” She turned around. “Ruth, you remember Clayton?”
Ruth nodded and Clayton saluted her as if she were in the military.
“This is Duke,” Jamie added.
“Duke, sit.” Clayton gestured for the dog to respond but he didn’t listen.
“How is he around small dogs?” Jamie asked. Keeping Poppy safe was her top priority. She’d made a promise to protect her at all costs after rescuing her from a shelter in LA, where they’d found her wandering the streets, abandoned and starving.
“He lives on a ranch,” Clayton said. “He’s used to animals—horses, pigs, and chickens. Ain’t nothing more he loves than chasing them around the yard.”
She set Poppy down on the floor while Duke sniffed her rear end.
“Charming,” Jamie said, turning to her assistant. “How was LA?”
“Oh, fine,” Ruth said. “I thought you were working on your album?”
“Change in plans.” Jamie kept close tabs on her poodle. “We’re playing on Hello, Nashvillein the morning.”
“Oh!” Ruth pulled out her phone. “The song from last night?”
“Yeah, but not as country.”
Ruth pointed at the door. “How are you going to manage that with Merle looking on?”
“You know who Merle Haggard is?” Clayton asked, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.
“The Hag?” Ruth chewed her gum. “I’m an Okie from Muskogee. Well, just outside of Tulsa.”
“You’re not helping.” Jamie glared at her assistant, not wanting her to encourage him.
“James, you’ve always wanted to write a drinking song, and . . .” Ruth scrolled through her phone. “You’ve gained fifty thousand followers since this morning.”
“Is everything okay in here?” Dusty asked, standing in the doorway.
Duke ran up to greet him, but Poppy remained where she was when Jamie signaled her to stop. Poppy had excelled in her dog training courses, finishing first in her class.
“Sorry!” Jamie said, apologizing for keeping the producer waiting. “He’s trying to make it country and I’m going for rock.” She paused and added, “We both want it on our albums.”
Dusty, who was about the same height as Clayton, entered the room. “I love the song, Jamie, but it doesn’t fit on your record.”
“That’s what I told her.” Clayton sounded vindicated as Jamie contemplated new methods to kill him. Poison had worked well for the Russians.
“I’ll make it fit,” she argued.
“That’s what he said,” Clayton rebutted.
She ignored him and begged her producer, “Please!”
Dusty adjusted his glasses along the bridge of his nose. “It’s a country song.”
“Why is everyone against me?” She pouted, her bottom lip protruding.
“Sing it as a duet,” Ruth suggested, proposing a compromise.
