Page 54 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

Jack looks at me and smiles. “I’m ready.”

He strums the first few chords of the next song and starts to sing. While he’s singing, the door opens, which is just a little rude.

I look up and see Liz. I inwardly groan. I don’t like her. I’ve tried and it just isn’t going to work. She strides in wearing another one of her shorts skirts and high heels. She doesn’t look at me as she takes the seat beside me, crossing her long legs.

“Jinnie,” she says. “How quaint to see you again.”

I force a smile. “Liz.”

Through the glass, Jack starts another take, oblivious to the tension on this side of the glass.

Liz examines her manicure. “I suppose we should thank you. The songs are much better with your touch. He sent me some of the rough cuts. I guess he needed his crutch one more time.”

Something in her tone makes my skin prickle. “We had fun writing them.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She finally turns to me, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. “But you understand, now that we have what we need, you’ll be going home.”

The words land like a slap. “What?”

Liz sighs, as if explaining something to a child. “Jack’s through with you, sweetheart. He got what he wanted. The execs and I agreed to have him bring you down here to help him. But now that we’ve got two albums out of him, we won’t need any new music for a while. We’ll be promoting these albums. And when it does come time for him to start writing again, you’ll be a distant memory.”

My throat tightens. Through the glass, Jack strums the final chord and glances up, waving at us. Liz waves back, her fingers fluttering. She’s got that fake smile firmly in place. From where Jack is sitting, he’s thinking everything is just great.

I sit frozen. I don’t want him to worry. He’s doing so well in there.

“Jack doesn’t need me,” I say. “He’s got the music in him. It seems people around here are trying to stifle his unique sound. I help bring it out.”

She snorts. “You’re what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen.”

“A child. Trust me, once Jack hits the road, things are going to change.”

“Yeah? How so?”

She frowns at me. “Didn’t he tell you?” Liz asks.

“Tell me what?”

“Oh dear,” she says, her voice dripping faux sympathy. “We’re together. Have been for months.” She flashes a diamond tennis bracelet. “He’s talking about proposing.”

The room tilts. Jack’s still in the booth, adjusting his headphones, completely unaware.

“If that’s the case, you’re probably pretty pissed he and I spent the night together,” I reply.

It’s a low blow, but dammit, I’m hurt. And angry.

“And while he was with you, he was thinking about me,” she says just above a whisper. “I know because he told me. He knew what you would want and he was prepared to give it to you in order to get what we wanted.”

My mind flashes back to his back to me this morning. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Liz stands, smoothing her skirt. “The jet’s ready whenever you are. I’ll have someone drive you.”

I should argue. Should demand to hear it from Jack himself. But the seed of doubt takes root, fed by every unanswered text, every week of silence.

And when Jack emerges from the booth, sweaty and grinning, it’s Liz he looks at first.

“Did you hear it?” Jack asks her.