Page 55 of Pink and Country

How come the trip from Green Mountain to Nashville seemed shorter this time? As if more than a hundred miles had vanished. April had this way of making even the most boring things in life colorful. Forget Nashville, I should’ve aimed for a thousand-mile road trip instead. Disappear into the sunset. Fuck under a palm tree. Never come back.

We grabbed green tea to go and settled in my SUV, playing each other’s music playlist on our phones.

“Okay, I have to tell you something. It might hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry about that.” I sucked in a breath and put my best poker face on. “This song sucks. Big time. I can’t understand why sane people would listen to this. There’s nothing good about it. Sure, the chorus is catchy, but other than that, it’s punishment to endure the—” I looked at the in-dash entertainment slash navigation screen “—entire three minutes fifty-seven seconds of it. Nails on a chalkboard sound less painful.”

“Shut up, HN. What do you know about pop music?” April cocked a brow, and I burst out laughing like a kid, choking on a sip of scorching hot tea.

“Did you forget I’m the professional here, Bubble Gum?” April made a funny pout. The kind I’d die to kiss. Ignoring the rise in my body temperature and my permanent hard-on, I nudged her arm. April played another song on her playlist. “Whoa, this is even worse. Where’s your taste in music, woman? My ears are bleeding right now. I thought I could trust you as the honorary DJ on the road. Kill me already. I was wrong. You’re fired.” April’s laugher was clear and genuine, and I joined in. “Please, stop this massacre you call music. New rule. My truck, my music.” Her eyes glistened every time I teased her, and I suffered from not kissing her a little more each time. She wiped off the tears welling in the corners of her eyes with her fingertips before regaining her composure, a long-lasting grin imprinted on her pink lips.

Eyes shut, April sighed, her palms touching as if in a prayer. “Okay,” she said once the fit of laugher had subsided. “Let’s settle on classic rock and country. Truce?”

“Yeah, better. There’s this guy, Carter Hills, I think. Don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him. He has had a few hits. You should give his music a try. I heard it’s amazing. Just sayin’.” I shrugged, and April kept her face emotionless.

“I’ve heard about this guy. Such an ass. I hope his music is better than his attitude.”

We drove a few miles, the silence comfortable between us.

“This pen name of yours, are you going to tell me what it is?”

April tapped her chest with her opened palm.

“You’re sure you want to risk your life for this?” She arched a brow, challenging me with her gaze. I slouched my shoulders, giving her my best puppy dog eyes. “You’re not fooling me, Big Guy. Nice try.”

We arrived in Music City mid-morning, and after a quick late breakfast, April left with June to go shopping for something to wear for tonight’s show. I wanted her night to be special. It was April’s first time in Nashville and her first time in this world of mine. I loved this city so much I wanted to give her a taste of it.

The fun part, at least.

Never in my life had I invited a woman to join me backstage at one of my concerts. Savannah didn’t care about my music, and except for movie premieres or galas, she barely ever left LA, her only interest being my fame. And my money.

After April left, I used the free time to check on the venue and decided on the playlist for tonight.

Acoustic shows with only a small crowd had always been my favorite. Sure, the rush I got from playing in sold-out stadiums compared to nothing else, but I always preferred the intimacy of the small venues.

Why don’t I do this more often?

The thought of scheduling a string of unplugged concerts instead of a worldwide tour next year grew on me.

Me. My guitar. My music. My rules.

Riley, my long-term manager, greeted me. He organized this last-minute show using all his contacts after our emergency meeting days ago.

We teamed with my favorite radio station to announce my show.

“Carter Hills will do a surprise performance tonight. We’ll draw tickets throughout the day. We’ll reveal the location at the last minute. Stay tuned for more details.”

Then the host, Mark, a guy I went to high school with, took my call. A decent guy. I wouldn’t have done an interview with anyone else. I thought it could be nice to talk to him on-air.

“Hey, Carter, thanks for talking to us today. How are you doing?”

“Good, Mark. Excited for tonight. Thanks for having me.”

“I and everyone else in Nashville are glad you’re doing okay, Carter. With all the fake news out there about you, you got us worried for a moment.”

I laughed and shook my head, even if nobody could see me. “You’re a smart guy, Mark. Don’t believe everything you hear or see. In all honesty, I’m better than I’ve been in a long time. It’s good to be back, though, even if it’s just for a night.”

“Do you have any private information about tonight’s show? It’s the talk of the town right now.”

“All I can say is that it’s going to be unplugged, and I may have a surprise up my sleeve. I guess we’ll see how it goes.”