Page 113 of Strung Along
“It sure as shit would, Reggie,” Brody replies.
I press my knee to his, and he reaches beneath the table to hold my thigh. His palm is hot, burning through my jeans and acting as a sharp reminder that he wants me here with him.We’re in this together. Emotion builds in my throat, threatening to choke me.
“I’m sorry there wasn’t much notice of my arrival. I wanted to give you a couple of days to sort through the most recent events, but you know my son. It was a useless effort. I do hope my call this morning was alright, however.”
“It was better than nothing,” Brody says. “Thank you.”
Reggie shifts his attention to me, smiling kindly. “And of course, I’m grateful to have a chance to meet you, sweet Annalise. You’re far more beautiful than Brody explained to me.”
“Is that right, Brody?” I sneak a look at him, and my stomach jumps at the blatant affection in that waiting blue stare.
He drifts his thumb along my outer thigh, and I have to fight back a shiver. “It’s not my fault your beauty isn’t possible to explain.”
I could sit here and flirt with this man for all hours of the day. But we can’t. And the reminder of why we’re all sitting here is enough to sober me up.
“Thank you both for the compliments. But we should focus on the real reason for this meeting.”
“You’re right. I always tend to drift off topic in my old age,” Reggie scolds himself. “I’ll be blunt with this. You’re talented, Brody. Incredibly so. Swift Edge only takes the best of the best, and I’m honoured to have worked with you. I want tokeepworking with you. But I think the question I need to ask you right now is if you want to keep working withme. With the label as a whole.”
The question smacks down on the table, alarm bells blaring. I tense, and Brody feels it. He splays his fingers out on my thigh and rubs it in small circles. But this isn’t about me, and I attempt to put on a brave face.
“Of course I do, Reg. I want to make music for the rest of my life. That’s not the problem,” Brody answers.
Reggie purses his lips, considering that. “Then please, explain to me what is so we can move past this. Garrison is growing antsy. We need a plan, something we can bring him if you want to continue to work with us.”
“The tour. I don’t know if I can commit to that. Not right now. I’ve got a lot goin’ for me up here in Cherry Peak.”
“What tour?” I blurt out.
Reggie glances between me and Brody. It feels like there’s a lot to unpack right here. I shove away my panic and attempt to keep a level head.
“It wouldn’t be a world tour right away, Brody. This isn’t our first rodeo, so to speak. We know you may need baby steps. Most artists do. You remember how it was with Killian,” Reggie says, each word chosen carefully. For Brody’s benefit or mine, I’m unsure.
“Yeah, I do. And that’s why I’m sayin’ no. It was easier to hop on a tour bus and not care when I’d be home a few months ago. Before—” He stalls, and I flinch. An obvious physical reaction to hearing that he’s turning down this step in his career because of me.
My chest cracks, guilt slithering through.
“Before I had someone here waitin for me,” he finishes.
“You aren’t the only artist out there with a family at home. Plenty of people make it work. Killian, for example,” Reggie says.
“I’m not talkin’ about other artists. I’m talkin’ about me, and I’m tellin’ you that I don’t know if I can commit to it.”
I start to gnaw on the inside of my lip, nervous as all hell. There’s no way I can let him give this up for me. I’d never forgive myself. Who knows if he’d ever forgive me either. What happens in ten years when he tires of working on the ranch and realizes he could still be living his dream if he hadn’t given it up just to stay close to me?
Not only that, but he hasn’t stopped for one minute since apparently making up his mind to even ask me how I’d feel about all of this. Because if he had, I would have told him that the distance wouldn’t matter. That we’d make it work because I think what we have is worth the effort. But he didn’t. He made these choices on behalf of both of us, and I refuse to take that sitting down.
My guilt begins to twist into frustration. A dangerous mixture that’s bound to cause trouble. I shift my leg, and Brody’s hand falls from it. The lack of his touch helps clear my mind, even if I’m already struggling not to put it right back where it was.
Reggie seems to read me better than I anticipated. He pushes the conversation along instead of feeding into Brody’s declaration.
“Don’t make that decision yet. There’s more we need to talk about today. The man you punched yesterday, for one. PR is already on top of it, but we got lucky this time. Next time, it may not be so easy. While I understand why it happened, I can’t say my son does.”
“Yesterday was my fault. Stewart was only there because of me and some sick sense of jealousy. He’s gone now and won’t be back,” I say.
Reggie waves me off with a warm smile. “Don’t apologize. As I said, his complaint was easily dismissed. When it comes to Spencer Sharp, however, I’d like to apologize to you, Annalise, on behalf of Swift Edge. We didn’t think the tabloids would have sent someone out so quickly. That was a mistake on our part, and you can rest assured that it won’t happen again,” he says, attention fixed solely on me.
I attempt a weak smile in return. “Thank you. It was just a bit of a surprise. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Don’t worry about it.”