Hearts on Fire (11 page)

“Why can’t you find
her?”

“She asked me to give
her some time to collect herself. And since I needed to return
Annabeth’s call pronto, I left the suite and went to my room. When
I came back, she was gone.”

“What about John?
He’s usually stationed outside her room.”

“She sent him down to
the gift shop. Asked him to buy her a couple of candy bars.”

Drew snorted. “He
fell for that?”

Wally shrugged. “Jessie
loves Butterfingers. It’s not an unusual request.”

“And when he got
back, she was nowhere to be found.”

“You got it. He
knocked on the door, and when she didn’t answer, he used the
duplicate key card we issued to him in case of an emergency. We
scoured the entire hotel and casino and came up empty.” Wally
scratched his head. “Where could she have gone unnoticed?”

Drew pondered that for
a few seconds. “What about a disguise?” he asked. “Yesterday
she wore one when we went out and no one recognized her. Maybe she
did that again.”

Wally shook his head.
“I checked. The wig is in the closet. Unless she’s got another
one, I don’t think she’s in disguise.”

“Then she’s on the
property somewhere. But where?”

Five minutes later,
Wally was gone. But not after he’d extracted a solemn promise from
Drew that he would call if he heard from Jessie. That didn’t seem
likely. Instead of running
to
him, she’d run away
from
him. A dull ache throbbed in his chest. He’d thought they’d been
healing the rift between them, and that Jessie trusted him. But she
didn’t. She didn’t trust him at all.

Drew fought the knot in
his throat and moved to the window. Across the street, outside the
New York, New York hotel stood a replica of the Statue of Liberty,
and for some odd reason, it didn’t seem out of place. He stared at
it for almost a minute before it hit him. When it came to the issue
of trust, who was he to judge anyone? Jessie wasn’t the only one
with a secret.

He let loose a groan of
frustration.
Damn it.
Where the hell was she?
That
she wanted to escape wasn’t surprising, but the fact that she
hadn’t bothered with a disguise was. Where would she go where she
felt safe?

He turned away from
Lady Liberty and his gaze fell on the two guitar cases propped up
against the wall. On tour, the instruments were kept secured by the
roadies, but he always made it a point to keep his guitars close to
him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the crew, but his guitars
were sacred to him. They weren’t just instruments, they were an
extension of himself, and much like a saddle, they needed to be
broken in before they felt completely comfortable. Losing them would
be like losing an arm. He wasn’t sure why he believed they were
safer in his hotel room; they could just as easily be stolen here
than in one of the holding rooms backstage.

Backstage?

Drew’s pulse
quickened. Wally hadn’t mentioned checking the arena or Jessie’s
dressing room backstage. He crossed the room with purposeful strides,
grabbed his key card and his backstage pass from the top of the
dresser, and left his room. Although it was a long shot, it wouldn’t
hurt to check it out. And it was a hell of a lot better than sitting
around doing nothing.

As ideas went, hiding
out like some sort of rogue outlaw wasn’t the brightest one Jessie
had ever come up with. But it was better than her first plan—hopping
on a plane and high-tailing it out of Vegas. Although tempting, she
knew that running from her problems wouldn’t solve them. Nothing
would. Still, she needed to think about her next move, and there was
no way she could do that in her suite. Not with Wally hovering, and
her cell phone going off every thirty seconds.

How many people had her
number anyway?

From her prone position
on the toffee colored leather sofa in her dressing room, she stared
morosely at the ceiling. All things considered, her phone blowing up
was the least of her worries. The day she’d dreaded since Wally had
become her legal guardian and manager, and she’d begged him to help
her reinvent herself, had finally arrived. Her disreputable past had
reared its ugly head, and there would be no putting that particular
genie back in the bottle.

What was truly ironic
was that she’d actually begun to believe she’d gotten away with
it. Thanks to plastic surgery, dental work, and hair dye, she’d
physically left Mary Ellen Dickson behind ten years ago, and she’d
legally changed her name to Jessica Sue Grantham at the same time.
She never used the name Jessica. She’d been introduced to country
music fans as Jessie Grant to specifically avoid anyone who’d seen
the legal documents putting and two together. And until today, no one
ever had.

With her luck, she
should have known she was living on borrowed time. Mary Ellen Dickson
and the past she’d been trying to forget would never die. But what
was worse than her whole world collapsing was the look on Drew’s
face as they’d watched that horrible newscast. She could only
imagine what he thought of her now. Of how disappointed he must be.
She’d been unmasked as a liar and a fraud, and any hopes she had of
their relationship lasting past this week were long gone. Mary Ellen
Dickson wasn’t exactly the kind of girl he’d take home to meet
his mother.

Jessie squeezed her
eyes shut. She would
not
cry. Throwing herself a pity-party wouldn’t solve her dilemma
or
salvage her career. And as her grandmother used to say—wallowing in
self-pity was as useless as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking
contest.

By now Wally had
probably figured out she’d flown the coop. He’d be frantic, of
course. He cared about her. As much as she cared about him. He was
the closest thing to a father she would ever have, and because of
that, she couldn’t let him worry himself into a heart attack or a
stroke. After everything he’d done for her, he deserved better.

With a reluctant sigh,
she forced herself to get up from the sofa and moved to the dressing
table where she’d left the scarf, sunglasses and oversized caftan
she’d used as a disguise. Like the one she’d worn yesterday, the
odd outfit was effective. So much so that no one in the hotel or
casino recognized her, and the Grand Garden security guard had barely
looked at her after she’d flashed her backstage pass. Assuming she
was a member of the Jessie Grant entourage, he’d waved her inside
with a polite nod and a smile.

And this was where
she’d been ever since. But not for much longer. It was time to face
the music…so to speak.

Just then a loud knock
sounded on the door. Startled, she jumped about half a foot and
whirled toward the door. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, but she
remained still and silent. Maybe if she was lucky, whoever it was
would go away.

“Jessie. It’s me. I
know you’re in there. I’m not leaving until we talk.”

Damn
it.
She’d managed to evade Drew for several hours, and
now he stood outside the only exit in the room. She should have known
he’d track her down.

“I don’t want to
talk right now,” she said, moving toward the door on unsteady legs.
“I need some time alone.”

“You’ve been alone
long enough.”

Jessie’s steps
faltered. Was there a double meaning in those words, or was she only
imagining it? She reached the door and laid her cheek against its
flat, cool surface. Drew, the only guy she’d let get close to her
in years stood on the other side. Inches away, yet so far.

“Go away, Drew. I
don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Well that’s too
damn bad. I’ve got something to say to you, and unless you want me
to say it right out here in this hallway where everyone can hear it,
you’d better open the door and let me in.”

She gasped. “You
wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh yes I would.”

Fear that he might
actually carry out his threat spurred her into action. She unlocked
the door, pulled it open, and glared at him as he brushed past her.

She slammed the door
shut, and turned to face him. “All right. You’re in.” She
propped her hands on her hips. “What do you want?”

“I never figured you
for a coward.”

“I am
not
a coward.”
Liar.

“Then why are you
hiding out in your dressing room? The Jessie I—” He paused and
took a breath. “The Jessie I know wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe you don’t
know me as well as you think you do.”

“I think I do. Look,
I have no clue what happened to you when you were a kid, but whatever
it was, it can’t be that bad.”

“You wouldn’t think
that if you knew everything. There’s a reason why I changed my name
and tried to erase my past. It’s not pretty.”

“Why don’t you tell
me and let me decide for myself?”

“No,” she said
quickly.

“Why not? Are you
that afraid to trust me? To trust anyone but Wally?”

“I could ask you the
same thing. You’re as gun shy about talking about your past as I am
about mine. Don’t lecture me about baring my soul for everyone and
their brother to comment on when you’re not willing to do the same
thing.”

A muscle ticked in his
jaw. She’d struck a nerve. “This isn’t about me.”

“You got that right.
It’s about me. My life. My career. My past. It’s my business.
Stay out of it.”

“Fine,” he said,
his tone curt. “Wally told me Annabeth Kent is flying to Vegas.”

“What?” A mixture
of surprise and dread knotted her stomach. “I didn’t agree to any
interviews. Where does Wally get off—”

Drew held up a hand.
“Calm down. Wally didn’t agree to anything. She’s flying out
here in hopes of convincing you that she’s the best person to tell
your story. If you decide to tell it.”

Jessie fought the
nausea that climbed up her throat. If she was about to throw-up now,
how would she handle a sit-down interview millions of people might
watch? Projectile vomiting on a respected journalist would only make
matters worse.

“I—I don’t know
what to do.” She pressed a hand to her stomach and focused on
Drew’s solemn face as the room started to spin. She took a deep
breath, and thankfully, the dizziness passed. “I’ve worked hard
to get where I am. I’ve earned every bit of my success. What I did
in the past shouldn’t matter.”

“I agree. But that’s
not how it works. You’ve been around long enough to know
sensational stories sell. I’m not trying to tell you what to do,
but the rumors and speculation could get much worse. You can choose
to not say anything or you can shut them all down by telling the
truth.”

She scowled at him.
“Now you sound like Wally. I’m sure that’s what he wants me to
do.”

“Didn’t you tell me
you got this far by listening to him?”

She nodded.

“Then maybe you
should keep following his advice. He hasn’t steered you wrong yet.”
His unreadable gaze roamed over her face. “Think of it this way,
once you tell your story, you’ll never have to worry about it
again. You can live your life without it hanging over your head.”

“Easy for you to
say,” she snapped, as she moved around him and grabbed the caftan.
It was time to put the disguise back on and return to her suite so
she could talk to Wally about the interview. She met his eyes in the
mirror. “You’re not the one who has to spill their guts on
national television
and
do a concert on the same day. In less than forty-eight hours, my
career could be over.”

“Or maybe not. Your
fans love you. They won’t desert you.”

But
what about you?
She choked back the question and slipped
the caftan over her head. Drew had no idea of the things she’d
done. Grammy always said you couldn’t make a silk purse out of a
sow’s ear no matter how hard you tried. And she was right.

Twenty minutes later,
Jessie preceded Drew into her suite, and was met by a very relieved
Wally. He jumped up from the sofa and engulfed her in a comforting
bear hug. “Thank God,” he said, and held her for several seconds
before he pulled back to give her a stern look. “Don’t ever do
that to me again. I was worried sick.” He released her and
grimaced. “What in tarnation are you wearing?”

“It’s called a
caftan.” She pulled the scarf from her head and smiled. “And I
know it’s butt-ugly. That’s the point.”

Wally shook his head,
amusement quirking the corners of his mouth. “You and your
disguises.” He released her and nodded to Drew, who’d hung back
in the doorway. “Thanks for finding her.”

“You’re welcome.”
Drew’s tone was flat. Jessie turned to find his eyes matched his
tone. “I’m glad I could help.” His gaze shifted from Wally to
her. “I’ll leave so you two can discuss strategy. Let me know if
we’re rehearsing tomorrow and I’ll be there,” he said, then
turned and left the suite, closing the door behind him.

Jessie stared at the
door and fought the urge to cry. The coldness emanating from him had
chilled her to the bone. Even without knowing about her past, he was
already treating her differently. His attitude confirmed that her
decision not to tell him the truth had been the right one. But he’d
hear about it anyway if she did the interview with Annabeth tomorrow.
Bottom line, she was screwed either way.

“You didn’t tell
him, did you?”

“No.” She sniffed.
“I’m afraid he’s going to hate me.”

Wally put his hand on
her shoulder and turned her to face him. “That young man cares
about you. If he’s going to be angry with you for anything, it
won’t be because of your past. It’ll be because you didn’t
trust him enough to be honest with him.” He squeezed her shoulder.
“It’s time you stopped being ashamed. You were dealt a raw hand
and you played it the best way you knew how.”