Clayton opened the door to the vocal booth, and Poppy wagged her tail.
“What are you doing?” Jamie snapped, annoyed by the interruption as she grabbed her phone. “I told you I’m writing.”
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together. “No.”
Clayton let out a laugh. “Good to know.” He picked up her black leather jacket from the floor. “Here . . .” He held it like a bullfighter’s muleta. “Put this on.”
“Why?”
“We’re going out.”
“What about Poppy?”
“She can stay here with Duke.” He picked up Poppy and kissed her head, which surprised Jamie. Derrick could never do that, since her dog was usually afraid of men. Then again, Clayton was hardly a man. “They’ll play for a spell then conk out. They’re not even going to notice when we hightail it out of here.”
Jamie glanced at him sideways. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
Jamie and Clayton walked down Korean Veterans Boulevard toward Fifth Avenue South. The wind was howling, nearly blowing her face off, and she wished she had a scarf, a parka, or a hot cup of cocoa. No—a Spanish coffee without whipped cream. She needed to save her calories for alcohol.
“Where are we going?” Jamie asked as they stopped in front of a large gray building. “It’s fucking cold out.”
Clayton pointed to a sign that readcountry music hall of fame and museum.
“You’re lucky I like museums.” Jamie visited as many art galleries and museums as possible while on tour because her parents hadn’t prioritized her education. She felt deeply ashamed she didn’t have a diploma and intended to rectify it one day by taking her high school equivalency exams.
“Look,” Clayton said. “We have something in common.”
“Why are we here?” She blew on her hands to keep them warm.
“Trust me,” he said. “Come on!”
Jamie followed him up the stairs but soon noticed no one was entering or exiting the building. “I think it’s closed.”
“They’re keeping it open for us, darlin’.”
She shrugged and climbed the steps to the top, where a security guard greeted them.
“What’s happening, Kirby?” Clayton shook the man’s hand. “Happy new year!”
Not this again.
“Happy new year.” Kirby grasped the door handle. “Hi, ma’am.”
“This is Jamie,” Clayton said, gesturing for her to step forward. “The guest of honor.”
“Jamie Keaton?” Kirby asked in a tone that implied familiarity.
She extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” Kirby turned to the country singer. “I bet you’re excited for baseball season. Your team’s got some promising prospects from Vanderbilt.”
“Spring training is just around the corner,” Clayton drawled. “At long last we’ve got some real talent from my alma mater.”
