Made in Nashville: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance (21 page)

‘Byron was awesome wasn’t he?’ Mia flapped her clutch purse around her face like a fan as they waited for the second half of the show to start. Jared and his band had pulled off a flawless performance and half the awards had been given away already.

‘Totally awesome,’ Honor responded, looking at the audience buzzing back in from the foyer.

‘What’s that tone for? He was note-perfect.’ Mia scowled.

‘I know, I said. Almost a two minute guitar solo in a four and a half minute song,’ Honor remarked, laughing.

‘What is that gross thing round your neck, doll? I tried to ask you before Vince Gill came on but the banjo player went crazy and you didn’t hear me.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Honor said. She touched the ring defensively, holding it in her hand.

‘Jeez, is that some sort of gift from Jed? Hasn’t he heard of Tiffany’s?’

‘It was his father’s. It’s important to him.’ She held its weight in her palm. ‘And he gave it to me,’ Honor stated.

‘God, I hope Byron hasn’t got anything like that up his sleeve. Antiques should only come in the form of furniture in my opinion.’

Honor saw Jared coming towards them and she stood up. ‘I like it, so you’d better get used to seeing it.’

‘Hey,’ he greeted, kissing Honor’s cheek.

‘Hey, you OK?’ she asked as he moved to sit down in the seat next to her.

‘Yeah, just … ’ he started.

‘Nervous I’m betting. Not long now until the Best Male Vocalist award,’ Mia piped up.

‘Something like that,’ Jared replied to Honor. ‘I don’t think I’m gonna win but when your name’s in the hat there’s always that chance.’

He felt Honor’s hand on his and she linked their fingers, squeezing them tightly.

‘Win or lose, it doesn’t matter. Sometimes I’ve felt better after not winning,’ Honor admitted with a smile.

‘And I’ve got the greatest prize right here,’ he said, bringing her hand to his mouth.

He meant every word. He’d never got into the music industry for the accolades. A Marlon Award nomination was flattering but he knew actually winning would mean more to some of the other artists than it did to him.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the 15
^th
Annual Marlon Awards coming to you live from the Ryman Auditorium. And what have we got next, Bucky?’

Jared knew what was coming next. It was his category.

‘You doing OK here?’ Buzz sat down in the seat next to Jared.

‘Hey, Buzz, you made it,’ he remarked, turning to his advisor.

‘Yeah, I made it. Good luck,’ he stated, nodding his head at his client.

‘ … so, without further ado let’s hear the nominations for Best Male Vocalist 2014.’

He felt Honor tighten her grip on his hand as the names were read out. After each name was called, a clip from the artist’s recent video was played on the big screen.

‘Jed Marshall.’

Honor let out a whoop of appreciation and Mia pumped her fist in the air and screamed. He looked up at the screen and saw a clip from the video he’d done with Honor. There he was standing on the roof of a building, his guitar slung around his neck and there she was leaning over a pool table. A few wolf-whistles ran through the auditorium at that shot.

He saw Mia nudge Honor in the side and she shook her head and then closed her eyes. She was willing him to win, when he really didn’t care either way. He had her and that was all that mattered.

‘And the winner is … ’

He felt Honor digging her fingers into his skin as they waited for the pause to end. He placed his other hand over hers and held it there.

‘Blake Shelton!’

He smiled, knowing the cameras would be on all the nominees to get a reaction to the announcement. He patted Honor’s hand.

She was surprised how sad she felt. He deserved something. Blake Shelton, she was learning, was a great artist, but he wasn’t Jared. When she’d seen him on stage for the first time at the Marlon Festival he had lit the place up, pumped the arena full of life like no one else she’d ever heard.

She clapped her hands together as the winner took to the stage but it didn’t feel right.

‘I’m happy for him,’ Jared whispered to her. ‘He’s a good guy and a great performer.’

‘So are you,’ she replied in hushed tones.

‘There’s still time for my time …  he’s way older than me,’ he said, smiling as he gave her hand another squeeze.

‘Just keep on smiling, Jared, there’s cameras everywhere,’ Buzz said through gritted teeth.

‘I’m doin’ it,’ he responded.

‘Have another drink, doll,’ Mia said, pushing a champagne flute into Honor’s hand.

They’d left the Ryman Auditorium for the after-party at the Hilton. Sponsorship deals stipulated they had to at least show their faces, but all Honor really wanted to do was go home and have Jared to herself. Despite what he’d said about not caring, she was sure he felt a little disappointment at not winning. She did. He wasn’t just an accomplished artist; he deserved recognition for being an outstanding songwriter.

‘Where is Jed anyway?’ Mia asked, looking around the room.

‘Buzz took him off somewhere to do some interviews,’ she responded, waving across the room at Reba McEntire.

‘You know Reba!’ Mia exclaimed in awe.

‘We worked together once, a long time ago.’ It felt like a whole lifetime ago.

‘Jeez! Will you introduce me? I adore her. That song she did with Brooks and Dunn about the cowgirl not crying has me in bits every time.’ She put her hand to her throat.

‘Come on,’ Honor said, linking their arms.

Buzz had called him out of the party and now he was stood in some room with nothing but a chandelier and stacks of chairs for company. Buzz’s phone had started ringing, his iPad had erupted, several alerts flashing up, then he’d up and left the room without a word.

Jared wanted to be with Honor. He wanted to get home, get packed up and get on the road early to Alabama. He couldn’t wait to see his family, couldn’t wait to introduce them to his girl.

He put his hands behind the back of his neck, linking them up as the door opened.

He watched Buzz step through and close it up again, leaning heavily against the frame. His usually dark chocolate colored skin didn’t look quite right - he was pale. His eyes studied Jared and unlike the usual warning glare before a lecture on something, this was different.

‘What?’ he asked, putting his hands down and looking back at his advisor.

‘We have a situation,’ Buzz said, marching forward and heading for the stack of chairs. He pulled one off and set it down, then pulled at another and settled it opposite. Jared noticed he was sweating.

‘What? A situation? What situation?’ He couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done since beating up Dan Steele, but still he was racking the back of his mind. Had he said something in an interview or on the line coming in?

‘Sit down.’ Buzz indicated one of the chairs. ‘And before you say anything else I need you to promise me that whatever comes out of your mouth next is the truth.’

The skin on the back of his neck prickled then went cold. This sounded bad. Had Dan Steele changed his mind about dropping the charges? Had the state decided to prosecute anyway and make an example of him?

He sat down on the chair and watched Buzz take the seat opposite, lowering himself down onto it gingerly, like he was going to have a collapse.

‘What’s goin’ on, Buzz?’

‘Just …  don’t say anything …  not yet.’ The words came out like a desperate order.

Jared put a finger to his mouth and bit the nail. He’d never seen Buzz look this way and he’d seen every kind of expression on his face in the years they’d been together.

Buzz took a long, slow breath before speaking. ‘Have you spent time in jail?’

He felt every ounce of life drain out of him and for a second everything went numb. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny it, to say anything to stop this here and now but what Buzz had said about truth gnawed at him.

‘No,’ he replied on instinct.

Before he’d finished the word Buzz was out of his seat. He grabbed hold of the chair and launched it across the room. It smashed into the pile of seats and sent half a dozen tumbling to the floor.

‘I told you. I warned you. Don’t you lie to me, boy!’

He’d never heard Buzz talk like that before. His voice was loud, threatening and shaking with emotion. This was real bad. He knew. It was out.

‘I …  spent time in juvenile detention.’ The words fell from his lips in a rush he didn’t have control over. The power of Buzz’s order, his body language, the wreck of the chair pile had brought the truth out of his mouth.

A mixture of shame and fierce loyalty waved over him and he hung his head, looking into his lap. What was there to say? He just had to wait to hear if he knew it all.

‘Jeez, Jared! I mean … hell!’

He could almost feel the steam coming out of Buzz’s ears. He couldn’t raise his head yet, not when his advisor was on the verge of a full blown eruption.

‘All these years and not a word? Fuck!’

He’d never heard Buzz use the F-bomb ever, even when he’d pulled all sorts of crazy shit. Was there any point saying anything? Just like before, he was already condemned.

He chanced a look up, watching Buzz pacing the floor, his hands thrust in his pockets, then out and at his afro. He resembled a man who didn’t know what to do with himself, not the emotionally controlled character Jared was used to.

He bit his lip, diverted his gaze as Buzz turned to him.

‘All these years we’ve known each other and you neglected to mention you shot and killed your father.’

He knew everything. Jared dropped his eyes, unable to keep looking at him. Clenching his fists, he balled them up tightly until his knuckles looked like they could break open the skin. His hands started to shake, his body started to vibrate on the inside as his soul began to react to the news and take on board the implications.

He should’ve known this would happen. It was always just a matter of time. Sealed records or not, it only took one good investigative reporter with time and the scent of something and the facts were there to find. He couldn’t make this right, so why say anything? Whatever he said would do no good. He kept his head low and waited.

‘Are you going to say anything?’

His shoulders shrugged of their own accord.

‘Jared, you shot and killed your father! This news is all over Nashville already. There are hundreds of reporters outside this hotel hungry for all the gory details.’

‘What?’ No, this was happening too fast. This wasn’t how it usually went. Buzz was always able to find out first. He had contacts at the news agencies who gave him the heads up if a story was going to break. It couldn’t be out, not nationwide, not yet. Honor.

‘This was on Twitter minutes after we got here. Tony called me but it was too late. Despite Carrie Underwood winning two awards,
you’re
the only person anyone is talking about right now and not in a good way. I mean, rocking the biker, hell-raising attitude is one thing, perhaps a DUI or even assault, but patricide?’

Jared stood, his heart thumping hard. ‘Where’s Honor?’

‘Aren’t you listening to me? I need to know the truth …  the whole damn truth so I can start working on sorting this out before you set foot outside of this room!’

‘I can’t do that. I need to see Honor.’ He was pacing for the door now, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed by a vice. He didn’t care what the press thought of him, he didn’t even care what the world thought of him. The only person that mattered was Honor. He couldn’t let her walk into this. He couldn’t let her find out what had happened any other way than from words out of his mouth. He should have told her when he’d told her about prison. Why hadn’t he? Because he was terrified of losing her. Because he couldn’t tell her everything without breaking his moral code. It was all about protecting the people he loved.

‘Jared! If you leave this room we’re done!’ Buzz yelled.

He put his hand on the door and took a breath. If the music industry already knew, then he was done for. But if he caught Honor and tried to explain, there might still be a chance.

He pulled open the door. ‘I’m sorry, Buzz.’

‘Oh my! I can’t believe I met Reba McEntire and she was so awesome!’ Mia said, putting a hand to her chest and grinning with joy.

Honor checked her watch. ‘I hope Jared isn’t too much longer. I’m so tired and we’ve got a road trip tomorrow.’

‘I know, I know. You and the bad boy getting cozy in the country with his family! It'll be all hoe-downs, turkey dinners and photos of Jed in his diapers.’

Honor laughed and picked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. ‘I bet he looked cute in his diapers.’

‘Euww!’

‘Honor Blackwood, Jemma Curran from Nashville Newswire. A great night tonight but overshadowed by the news of Jed Marshall’s imprisonment for the murder of his father, James. What’s your reaction to that?’

The reporter had red hair and was dressed in a full-length black sequined dress. A small dictaphone was in her hand and it was now just a few millimeters from Honor’s face. She’d spoken so quickly that Honor couldn’t have heard her correctly.

‘This is a private party and members of the press only have access to the artists at specific pre-scheduled times. Come on, Honor,’ Mia said, linking arms with her and pulling her away.

‘It’s come as a shock to the Nashville community. Tell me, did you know he’d been in prison? Had he told you about the death of his father? Miss Blackwood, just one comment!’

‘Fuck off back to charm school,’ Mia snapped. She pulled on Honor’s arm, heading toward the door.

Honor’s breathing was wild and she couldn’t see straight. All the partygoers in front of her were blurring into one mound, a writhing mass of beautifully dressed people, their conversations off-kilter, the background music off-key.

‘What did she say?’ Honor turned to Mia who was still marching her toward the room’s exit.

‘I don’t know. Some crap-ass story about Jed being in prison. Big deal. He probably took a swing at some guy he didn’t like. We all know that’s his thing.’

She swallowed and tried to recompose herself but everything was fuzzy. Nothing seemed quite right, her surroundings, the way she was reacting to them … 

‘I’ll tell the security guys we have an infiltrator at the party and we’ll go outside and get some fresh air,’ Mia directed, pulling Honor’s arm closer to her body.

Honor nodded. She hadn’t heard the words she thought she’d heard. The story that he’d been in prison was out. She should have felt more than this but the rest …  what she thought she’d heard …  it had to be made up. That’s what reporters did for sensationalism, didn’t they? She shook her head and stopped walking. Something about this was off. She pulled at Mia’s arm and held her gaze, making her friend look at her.

‘What did you hear that reporter say, Mia?’

Mia let out a nervous laugh and unclasped their arms, taking her purse from under her other arm and holding it tight. ‘That woman shouldn’t be at the party. She’s well known for getting places she ain’t invited. I’d bet she’s got one of the security on her payroll.’

‘Please, Mia. Did she really say Jared had been in prison for murdering his father?’ The words felt sour, like they were tainting her mouth, making a foul-tasting palate. Bile was rising up through her and she put a hand to her chest, trying to quell the sensation.

‘It can’t be true though, can it, doll? I mean, he’s here somewhere and he’s with you. He’s been dating you for weeks now. You would know.’

The tears were already forming and the feeling inside, that mixture of fear, hurt and nausea was threatening to burst past the calm exterior she was trying to hold onto.

‘He told me.’ The words floated past her lips. ‘He told me he’d been in prison …  well, not prison exactly, juvenile detention.’

She hadn’t realized she was shaking until Mia put a hand on her arm to steady her. Her touch didn’t have the soothing effect intended. It felt almost as if she’d been scorched. She fell into a step backwards and nudged against the wall.

‘I didn’t ask what for.’ The tears were tracking down her cheeks. ‘I said …  I said I didn’t want to know. I said I trusted him.’

‘Doll, we should find him. We should sort all this out,’ Mia suggested.

‘No.’ The word was forceful. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t take one step anywhere. She was frozen here, at this moment, in this place, just outside the door of the banqueting hall where almost all of Nashville was celebrating. Her hand wove its way up from her side to the ring hanging around her neck. His father’s ring. A dead man’s ring. A murdered man’s ring. He’d said it meant so much. How could he have said that when he was the one?

She fingered the gold band as more tears fell, silently, without sobs, without altered breathing; just quiet trickles of salt water tracing their way down her cheeks.

‘Look, this all has to be a misunderstanding or something, doll. Doesn’t it?’ Mia’s voice was wavering and over her shoulder Honor could see groups of press all vying for position and hotel employees desperately trying to erect new security cordons outside the entrance.

‘Honor, we need to find Jed and Byron. We need to get outta this party,’ Mia said, delving into her purse for her cell phone.

But Honor wasn’t listening. She could feel the cold plaster of the wall up against her spine through the thin gauze of the dress and she wanted it to numb her, dull her senses, take away the dread that was hanging over like a black storm cloud.

‘Damn it. Why does he never answer his damn phone?’ Mia exclaimed, cancelling the call.

He saw her before she saw him. Backed up against the wall, just below a portrait of Vince Gill, she looked like the life had been drained out of her. She knew. He could tell from her expression, the pale skin, the damp cheeks, the salty tears glistening over the track of her scar. She knew already.

‘Jed Marshall, Jemma Curran from Nashville Newswire, any comment to make about the death of your father? We’d love to have an exclusive. Tell us your side of things.’

A red-haired woman was poking a recording device in his face, so close he could practically smell the batteries. He raised his hand, ready to rip it out of hers and throw it to the wall. But right at that moment Honor looked up and those eyes, so full of grief and anxiety, met his. He was floored. The room closed in and nothing, no sound, no sense, nothing could break through. He watched her tighten her lips together, blink her eyelids and stay connected to his gaze. If he could keep her with him, connected like this, then maybe …  He walked forward, toward her, slowly yet with purpose. He could make this right. If she would just listen to him then maybe it could all work out. He took a breath in and held it, his eyes not moving from hers. Just a couple more strides and he would be … 

She looked away.

‘Mia, I want to go.’ She turned to her friend, feeling his eyes on her but not wanting to see them.

‘Honor.’ He’d stepped up and was just inches away. She couldn’t stand it. She knew, without asking, she knew just from his expression and his body language that what the reporter had told her was the truth.

‘What the hell is going on, Jed? Some reporter just came up to Honor and said … ’ Mia started.

‘Honor, just give me a minute …  a second even, to explain it to you,’ he begged.

Her heart was shattering. She could feel pieces of their love being stripped away as every moment passed. It was like every beautiful thing he’d said to her, all the precious time they’d spent together was dissolving, slipping out of her hands like sand running through an hourglass.

‘Is it true?’ The sound of her own voice shocked her. It was rough, strained with tears and hurt.

‘What have you been told?’ His reply was swift and she turned to look at him then.

‘Is that how it’s going to be? You’re going to answer me like you’re talking to a judge?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I … ’ He stopped, wetting his lips. ‘Buzz just told me what they’re talking about and I didn’t stop to hear the whole story I just …  I just had to find you.’

He reached for her and she recoiled, bustling into Mia.

‘Why don’t you two go somewhere quiet? That brat with the tape machine is hearing every word right now,’ Mia suggested.

‘No.’ Her mouth was tight because she was having trouble keeping in the emotion. If she let herself weaken, loosen or listen, she’d break down.

‘Should I leave? ‘Cause … ’ Mia began.

‘Honor, just hear me out. It isn’t like you’re thinkin’. I told you about the cop, the cop that sent me to jail. It was all to do with him and … ’ Jared started.

‘Did you shoot your father?’ The question was blunt and that’s how it had to be. It was all she needed an answer to. One straight answer, a yes or a no, not dozens of descriptive words that glossed over the facts.

He didn’t answer. His lips were still, his eyes fixed on her. It was as if she was looking at someone else. Someone she didn’t know. A stranger. Not the man she’d fallen in love with, the man who had walked into her life and turned it into someplace better.

‘Did you kill your father?’ She had to say it again because there’d been nothing from him. And she wanted an answer. She wanted to hear the ‘no.’ She wanted to hear that it wasn’t true, more than anything she’d ever wanted in her whole life. ‘Was that what you went to juvenile detention for?’

She couldn’t have made it any plainer. She stared at him, saw the pain in his eyes, saw a haunted look appear on his face. There was so much love there, loss too …  but still no answer.

He took a breath that looked like it took every ounce of strength he had. ‘It’s what I was charged with but … ’

A sharp pain, like a nail being driven into her, pummeled her core. A shockwave, a release of adrenalin, a surge of detestation flew up through her. It was true. He’d killed his father. The man he professed to love so much. The man whose memory he coveted, who he looked up to and admired. She gagged.

‘Honor, look at me.’ He grabbed her arm and she started to weep, unable to hold the emotion in any more. ‘It’s not cut and dried. Let’s go somewhere. Let’s get out of here and talk.’

The pain was squeezing her dry of any ability to respond. If she went with him he was going to lie to her, just like he’d held back the truth from her in the first place. The love they’d shared, the trust they’d built up, it had all been torn away, tainted by this ugly, awful truth. He was a murderer. Not just a hot-headed guy with fierce morals and a temper to match, but a killer.

‘Honor,’ he tried again, his hand on her arm, his eyes searching for hers.

‘No …  don’t touch me.’ She met his eyes as another sob came out of her mouth. ‘Don’t ever put those hands on me again.’

‘Honor, please. You have to listen to me.’ His voice broke as he dropped his hand and took a step back from her.

‘I want to go.’ She looked at Mia now, pleading with her expression for an out from this.

‘Sure, we can go, of course we can go. We’ll go out the back, away from them,’ Mia said, indicating the press pack at the front entrance.

‘Honor, I’m beggin’ you. Just give me five minutes, please.’

She couldn’t look at him again. The sight of tears falling from his eyes would weaken her. There was nothing he could say that would change the circumstances. He’d admitted it. What was left to discuss? She’d given her heart to someone who’d killed. She said she could forgive him anything …  but murder! That was in a whole different ballpark. Never had she considered he was capable of something like that.

She made for the front door in a rush. She didn’t care about the photographers and the reporters. She needed air. She needed to not be here with him. She needed sanctuary, safety, somewhere to breath.