Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Wags stood by while I opened the sliding door on the van’s passenger side and placed my guitar on the floor between the seats. “You need someone there with you,” he insisted. “Can’t you take Jess?”
“She’s going to Colorado with her family while I’m gone.” I went back into the house with Wags at my heels. In the kitchen’s roomy pantry, I scooped up one of the brown paper grocery sacks I’d packed last night and handed it to him. “Here. Make yourself useful.”
Wags followed me out to the van again. “I want it on record, I did not okay this.”
I placed my sack of groceries in the back. “Wags, I have done everything you guys have told me to do over the past five years. I recorded the songs the PMG execs said to record, worked with every chauvinistic male producer in Nashville, did back-to-back tours with no breaks and no complaints, did all the publicity the label requested, and kept my nose out of trouble, even when the haters on the internet made me want to burn shit down. I have been a good girl.”
“You have.”
“So I need this break, Wags, or I’m going to snap.”
He placed his bag next to mine. “I’m not saying you don’t deserve time off, Kelly Jo. You do. But if anything happened to you . . . I’d never forgive myself.”
His words softened the edges of my mood. Wags wasn’t my father—a devilishly handsome, charming alcoholic with a weakness for women and gambling who’d been in and out of our lives since I was six—but he’d been my manager since before I won Nashville Next, and he was unfailingly loyal. “Nothing will happen to me. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Kevin doesn’t think so.”
“Well, he’s an overprotective big brother who still sees me as a kid.” I went around to the back of the van and tried again to lift my suitcase, but no matter how much I struggled, I couldn’t get it into the cargo space. “Wags, can you please help me with this?”
His lips pursed beneath his bushy brown mustache. “If I do, will you say yes to security?”
I bent over and attempted to pick up the suitcase by the wheels, groaning with the effort.
“For god’s sake, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Wags gently pushed me aside, then heaved the suitcase into the van. “What the hell is in there that’s making it so heavy?”
“Clothes,” I said. “Hair products. Books.”
And a few toys that vibrated, but he didn’t need to know that.
He slammed the tailgate and walked me to the driver’s side, opening the door. “Does this thing have a full tank? You’re better off not stopping until you get way outside Nashville. Chances of you being spotted might decrease the farther you get out of town. Do you even know how to pump your own gas?”
“No,” I deadpanned. “But I’m sure there will be someone there I can blow to pump it for me.” I poked his chest and hopped behind the wheel. “Yes, I know how to pump gas! Lord almighty, I need to get out of here. Goodbye, Wags. I’ll call you when I get there. Tell my mom I said bye and not to worry about me!”
Reaching into my purse, I pulled out oversized sunglasses and slipped them on. Then I grabbed the baseball cap on the passenger seat and placed it on my head, hiding all my red hair beneath it. After starting the engine, I rolled down the window and smiled at my manager, who still stood on the driveway with his arms crossed, looking unhappy. “See? You can’t even recognize me.”
He shook his head. “This is a bad idea.”
“I’ll take all the blame,” I said as I put the window up.
Then I put my old gray minivan in gear and headed for freedom.
I was about an hour into the drive when my mother called me. I really wanted to let it go to voicemail, but I knew she would probably just keep calling, and I didn’t want her to panic and call the highway patrol. The last thing I needed was photos hitting the internet of Pixie Hart being pulled over by a state trooper.
“Hello?”
“Kelly Jo Sullivan! How could you?”
“Morning, Mama. How was your night?”
“Don’t change the subject. You snuck out of the house just like you used to do when you were sixteen.”
“Yeah, but back then I was sneaking out to clubs. This time I’m just going on vacation.”
“Wags says you fired the bodyguard.”
Dammit, Wags. “I don’t need him.”
“Well, don’t come crying to me when you’re attacked by a black bear. I told you about the premonition I had, didn’t I?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
“Do I need to tell you again?”
“No.”
“Because you know I have the sight, just like Great Aunt Sissy.”
“Yes.”
“And this vision was very clear—there was this giant black bear just towering over you, looking like he wanted to tear you apart and eat the pieces. He wasn’t even going to leave a crumb!”