Sitting at a table near the stage, but to the extreme right side of the club, Trent surveyed the crowd. The act before Bree had just finished, and the jukebox was playing. A few couples were dancing. Plenty of beer was flowing, and the crowd was fairly rowdy for a weeknight.
The environment seemed a little off to him, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on the why of it. He’d seen three bouncers earlier and knew they were big guys who could probably handle just about anybody individually, but some of these packs of cowboys who’d had a little too
“What the hell was that?” Bree demanded, jabbing Trent in the arm. She was carrying her guitar in her left hand so she’d have her strongest hand to assault him with.“What do you mean?” Trent asked, not even rubbing his arm since she hadn’t hit him hard enough to hurt him. “I was defending you.”“That&rs
At least there weren’t ten of them. Only four. That meant they were technically only outnumbered by one. But Bree wasn’t really going to be able to handle any of them, and then there was the fact that she had her guitar to protect.Trent’s response didn’t help matters. “Hell, yeah, I will. You should know not to talk to a lady like that, you drunk bastard.”
Sitting in the sound room, Bree found herself nervously wiping her hands on her floral skirt. She had no idea why she was so anxious when she wasn’t the one auditioning, but she felt as if her heart might beat right out of her chest.Trent had opted not to come to the callback. Bree would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little relieved. As much as she appreciated having him involved in her work whenever reasonably possible, the situation at the club the other night had unnerved her to some degree. It wasn’t the last show they’d gone
“All right. We’ve got Cat Hadley on keyboards, Dominic Dunn on drums, and Griffin Bray on bass,” Sally was saying once call backs were over. “We just need to decide who our rhythm guitar player is and who we want on lead.”“Rhythm is easier, I think,” Alvin noted. “Bree has mentioned it would be nice to have a rhythm guitar player who also plays fiddle, so I think Chase Simpson is a good choice.”
Trent knew Bree was going to have a trying day. Not only did she have a difficult decision to make, she’d been out late the night before and had to get up fairly early to go into the studio for callbacks. She had another gig that night, too, so Trent decided to make her dinner so she could eat and relax before she had to go to the show.Cooking wasn’t really his specialty, but he had a few recipes he was able to create without too many trials. He went about making his mom’s favorite chicken-tater tot casserole and then sat down at the table to look o
Bree felt as if she hardly had a second of free time. Once everyone they’d chosen for the band accepted, practices were scheduled. Since Zelda had already booked so many jobs for Bree, she was playing at night and practicing during the day. It was an exciting whirlwind, but it also left her tired most of the time. She was living off of coffee and other forms of caffeine.Jordan was directing their practices. He arrived far too enthusiastic for Bree’s taste early in the morning. “Hey, gang! I think the older stuff is really starting to come along. Let
The office space was exactly what Trent had been looking for. It was newly renovated, close to Bree’s apartment and the apartment complex he’d been thinking of renting a home in, and not too far from Bree’s studio where she practiced and recorded her music. It seemed like a really good deal, if he was going to go through with this.“It comes completely furnished,” the realtor told him. She was a tall, thin woman who was probably old enough to be his mother but still insisted on looking at him in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable.
It was a rare Friday night that Bree didn’t have a show, so Trent took advantage of her night off by taking her out to a fancy French restaurant. He intended to let her know what he’d decided to do. Hopefully, it would be a night to remember. She’d been so busy since the wedding and the declaration of their love for one another that he hadn’t gotten a chance to take her out on a proper date, so this was a night he wanted to make special for her.Dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress, with her strawberry-blonde hair piled on top of her head
Two weeks later…. Bree sat on the beach, a drink one hand, Trent’s fingers interlaced with her other where it lay in the sand. The ocean waves rolled in, wetting the sand near their toes, the sun baking down on their tan skin as it dried from their first dip in the ocean. There would be plenty more.&nbs
The sound of the gavel echoed throughout the courtroom. No one said a word for what seemed like the longest few seconds Bree could ever remember. Then, the people around her came back to life, and she found air in her lungs again. “Are you okay?” Trent asked. He was always asking her that, checking on her, making sure she was all right. Bree nodded. She was all right. She was going to continue to be all right, too. It seemed like a nightmare that had lasted almost two years was finally over.&nb
Yet again, Bree found herself speaking to a police officer. This time, she wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed, though. Instead, after they’d pieced together enough of the story to know that the maintenance man had been trying to make it so that the pipe above her head would move down, Bree and her bandmates had been asked to come to the police station. The others were sitting outside, or maybe one or two of them were being interviewed by other officers now. All she knew was the man sitting across from her, Detective Coop Wellington, didn’t look like the sort of person one kept information from. “We know Monica and this&helli
“All right--Bree Matthews!” a stagehand shouted, coming over with a clipboard and a microphone on his head. “Are you ready?” “We are ready!” Bree said for all of them, bouncing on her heels. “Then, head to your spots.” He signaled for them to approach their section of the stage. The band had been prepped on how this would work before the show. They headed to the places they’d been told to earli
Sitting in a chair, staring at a runway, brought back way too many uncomfortable memories for Trent. Had it really just been a little over a year since he’d spent at least one or two days a week sitting in just such a chair, waiting for Monica to come down the stage? It seemed so strange now. He tried not to fidget, but his leg was bouncing up and down so quickly, he was glad he wasn’t outside because he might manage to start a fire with the right kindling--and like Bree, he’d had enough of fire for one lifetime. “Are you all right?” Celia asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “You’re making me nervous, an
Anxiety bubbled up in Bree as she stood in the staging area, getting ready for the big show. All around her, models and bands were putting the finishing touches on their makeup and hair, the models getting into their first outfits so that they’d be fully prepared to grace the runway as soon as it was their turn to take the walk and show off the newest fashions to an invigorated audience. From what Bree could tell, this wasn’t actually one of those fashion shows where the clothing was practical and might be bought by the average housewife. No, it was mostly lingerie, and it was mostly, well, ridiculous, in her point of view. None of it was s
The sound of voices from the television met Bree’s ear as she walked through the apartment door. She checked the time on her phone. It was only a little past 3:00. What was Trent doing home? She had to assume it was him watching the television because it sounded like the news channel, and if the housekeeper had turned it on, it would’ve been a soap opera or court show. Hanging her purse by the door, and placing her keys where she could find them, she went into the adjoining room to investigate. Trent was sitting on the couch with his laptop open on his lap, his stocking feet on the coffee table, typing away. She almost didn’t want to
Meeting Monica at the event center where the Nashville Nights concert was to be held was intimidating, even though Bree had her bandmates with her. She had insisted Trent go to work; it was a Thursday afternoon, after all, just after lunch, and there was no reason for him to miss work to walk with her through the building where she’d be playing in a couple of nights, not when she had three capable men and Shawna with her to give her moral support.Trent had protested, saying he’d feel much more comfortable if Bree allowed him to go along, that the rest of the band wasn’t aware of how Monica could be. It had almost led to an argument. Bree had insisted she wasn&
“This is a horrible idea. The worst one ever. In the entire history of the world, I cannot imagine one idea worse than this one.” Celia sat across from Trent in his office, her arms folded, her legs crossed, her face puckered.At the moment, he couldn’t even allow himself to snicker at her exaggeration. While he agreed that what he was about to do was a terrible idea, he could think of lots of other ideas that were worse, many of them involving wars that had killed thousands or millions of people. Or spread disease. Or polluted the environment. But she was right--of all of the decisions he’d been directly involved in, this one was pretty awful.