Hearts on Fire Page 8

  “Maybe.” She threw him a saucy smile as she moved to the nightstand to pick up her phone. “Are you hungry? We could order room service, or we could go to the café downstairs. Wally says they make a mean French toast.”

  “Let’s go the café.” He pushed up from the bed just as Jessie’s phone rang again. “You should get that. Whoever it is must really want to talk to you.”

  She glanced at the small screen. “It’s Wally,” she said, and lifted the phone to her ear. “Good morning, Wally.”

  Drew crossed to the dresser to retrieve his wallet. He’d just shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans when he heard Jessie gasp.

  “What the hell?” she exclaimed, then bolted out of the bedroom.

  He followed her and watched as she opened the door to the suite and Wally hurried inside.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Is it really on the news?” she demanded, lowering her phone and closing the door.

  “I’ve been trying to call you for the last twenty minutes. Why weren’t you picking up your phone?” Wally stopped in his tracks when he saw Drew. His eyes widened a fraction. “Never mind. I can guess.”

  “What’s going on?” Drew moved into the main room and took in Wally’s haggard appearance. The guy looked like he’d aged ten years since yesterday. “You don’t look so good.”

  Wally shot a glance at Jessie, then shook his head. “It’s best you leave, son. I need to talk to Jessie alone.”

  Drew frowned. “Maybe I can help.”

  “You can’t,” Jessie said, sharply. “You need to leave. Now.”

  Her dismissive tone pissed him off. After what had happened between them, he deserved better than to be ordered out like a common flunky. He wasn’t leaving. Not until he knew why Wally and Jessie were so upset. He walked to the built-in wall unit, picked up the remote and turned the television on. Whatever was going down was evidently on the news, and he was going to find out what it was.

  “Drew. Don’t.” Jessie rushed towards him and tried to grab the remote.

  He fended her off easily with one arm, and began scrolling through the channels until he saw her picture on one of the stations.

  “This can’t be happening.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “Not now. Not after all these years.”

  For the next couple of minutes he, Jessie and Wally listened to the breaking news that revealed the true identity of country music star, Jessie Grant.

  According to the report, Jessie’s real name was Mary Ellen Dickson, and everything about her was a lie, including the town she grew up in and the loving parents who’d died when she was a toddler. A picture of Jessie at fourteen standing next to a boy of about the same age, but whose face was blurred out, popped up next to a current picture, and the difference was astounding. Instead of dark brown, her hair had been white-blonde. And since the picture had been taken, she’d definitely invested in a nose job and had her teeth straightened.

  Dumbfounded, Drew turned to find that Jessie had backed away from him. She now stood next to Wally, who had slipped a protective arm around her shoulders. Tears rolled down her cheeks and his chest tightened at the misery etched on her face.

  He turned back to the TV where the reporter was dropping an even bigger bomb. “We have reports from a legitimate source that Jessie Grant, aka Mary Ellen Dickson, at one time utilized the services of a women’s health clinic in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Of course, we don’t know what services Miss Grant utilized, but it was speculated by many in town that she was pregnant. At fourteen years old.” The woman continued, “As we reported at the top of the hour, CMT is scheduled to broadcast Miss Grant’s concert in Las Vegas tomorrow night at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. CMT has not yet commented on the story, but we’ll keep you updated as we learn more.”

  In Drew’s opinion violence never solved anything, but damn if he didn’t have a burning desire to wring the woman’s neck. This wasn’t journalism. This was a reporter crucifying Jessie with her words and innuendos for shock value and ratings.

  The current culture thrived on stories exactly like this; he had no doubt the story was trending on social media at this very moment and that it would be the lead story on all the entertainment and gossip shows tonight. And, as with all alleged celebrity scandals, the scrutiny would get worse. The press would descend on Jessie like predators, and the public would form their opinion without ever hearing Jessie’s side of the story.

  “Turn it off,” she said, her voice stony.

  Drew hit the power button and the TV screen darkened.

  “I want you to leave.”

  “But—”

  “Leave!” Her chin trembled. “Please, just go,” she said, then let out a soft anguished sound before brushing past him and disappearing into the bedroom.

  Drew turned around to face Wally and put his hands on his hips. “I’m not going anywhere. I want to help her.”

  “You can’t.” Wally’s expression softened. “Not now, anyway. Give her some time.”

  “Is it true? What the reporter said?”

  “Son, it’s not my story to tell. If Jessie wants to confide in you, she will. But right now, she and I need to come up with a strategy on how to handle this…this situation with the least amount of damage to her career.” He paused. “I truly believe if the public knew Jessie’s story, they would understand her actions and not judge her.”

  Drew released a frustrated breath. “Did you really discover her busking at the Memphis Farmer’s Market?”

  “That part’s true.” Wally’s eyes shined with moisture. “I love Jessie like a daughter. She’s a good girl, with a bigger heart than anyone knows. And when I find out who leaked that information to the media, I’ll make damn sure they regret it.”

  Three hours later, Drew was climbing the walls in his room. Other than a text from Wally two hours ago telling him that rehearsal had been postponed, he hadn’t heard a word from anyone. The entire time he’d been in his room he resisted the urge to turn on the TV. By now the story would certainly be all over the news. Because, of course, a country music star’s personal life was way more important than what was going on in the Middle East, or anywhere else there were rising tensions and bloodshed. He let out a snort of irritation. The media’s priorities were seriously fucked up. But the main reason he didn’t want to hear about Jessie’s story from the media was because he wanted to hear it directly from her. Whatever motives she’d had for hiding her true identity had to be valid. He hadn’t known her for years, like Wally, but he knew her well enough to know that she didn’t have a mean or vindictive bone in her body. No matter how hard a person tried to hide who they really were, eventually their true nature would be revealed.

  In Nashville, word traveled fast if a musician or a recording star was a pain in the ass or a diva. He’d never heard anyone apply either of those labels to Jessie. But someone clearly didn’t like her. Someone who’d found out about her past and leaked the information at the worst possible time.

  A firm knock on the door spiked his pulse. Disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth when he opened the door to find that it was Wally, not Jessie, who stood in the hallway.

  “Have you seen Jessie?” Wally cocked his head and looked past Drew with worried eyes. “Is she here?”

  “No. I haven’t seen her since I left her suite.” He pulled the door wider and waved Wally in. Once the older man was inside, Drew closed the door. “What happened?”

  Clearly agitated, Wally ran his fingers through his hair. A gesture he’d been doing repeatedly judging by the unruly mop on the top of his head. “I tried to convince her that the best course of action is for to tell her story. I got a call from Annabeth Kent—”

  “From Good Morning America? Didn’t she interview Jessie last year?”

  Wally nodded. “Yes. And they got along real well. Annabeth wants an exclusive interview, and she’s promised to be fair and unbiased. She’s flying to Las Vegas tonight in the hopes of doin’ the interview to
morrow morning.”

  “Let me guess, Jessie doesn’t want any part of it.”

  “I haven’t told her about it yet, but I’m afraid you might be right. She’s scared. Other than Jessie, I’m the only one who knows the whole truth.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “I said the whole truth, son. There’s no way the person that tattled on Jessie has all the facts. They have just enough to make Jessie look bad.” A scowl darkened his face. “And it worked. Now there’s speculation that she slept around, got pregnant, and then went and had herself an abortion.” Wally shook his head in disgust. “Filthy bastards.”

  “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.

  Chapter Seven

  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 o
ut 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.”