Nell squeezed her hand. "I'm real sorry, Peej." She hesitated, then straightened her shoulders. "But I have to say something that I've been biting back for years."
"What's that?"
"Your mama's a bitch."
P.J. choked, stared at her friend for a frozen moment:then laughed like a coyote. Hank howled, too, and she saw that he was closer than she'd realized. They exchanged delighted glances.
It wasn't the sentiment so much as the sentiment coming from Nell's mouth. Because she was soft-spoken, eschewed makeup and wore clothes that made her blend into the woodwork, people often assumed she was a mouse. She wasn't; she had a wicked sense of humor and usually didn't hesitate to state her opinions.
At the same time she was genuinely nice and a good friend, and P.J. didn't doubt for a moment that Nell loved her. "So, how long have you been keeping that to yourself?"
"Pretty much forever," Nell admitted. "I know how much you wanted to have a made-for-TV family relationship with her."
"Yeah, pretty desperate, huh? On one level I've always known the person she is. Damn, she kicked me out of the house when I was thirteen years old. And I have a feeling it took some pretty strong threats on the part of a woman named Gert to get her to take me back again."
"Is that why you made her your manager? Thinking that if you gave her carte blanche over your career she'd love you the way you deserve? Because, I gotta tell you, I never understood that."
"No-that would have been halfway understandable at least." A roadie wheeled past part of the risers that would elevate the backup band at the rear of the stage, and P.J. got out of his path then moved to the front of center stage where she wouldn't have to keep dodging the crew.
Nell and Hank came right along with her, and she gave them a look. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Nope." Hank reached into his shirt pocket where his smokes resided, then apparently remembered where he was and let his hand drop.
"Not a chance," Nell agreed. P.J. sighed her defeat. "Okay, then. The real irony here? I never set out to make her my manager at all. She began showing up at some of my shows back in my bar-singing days when I first started to draw crowds. And one night Ron Brubaker stopped by to check me out."
"Mercer Records Brubaker? That was your first label, right?"
"Yeah."
"So Jodeen was there the night Brubaker came in," Nell prompted. "What'd she do?"
"Sashayed straight to him and started talking me up. After the show Ron came over, introduced himself and told me how proud of me my mama was. The next thing I know I'm being offered a contract to play in a much larger venue while-are you ready for it?-I cut my first record."
"It was your first big break," Hank said.
"With Ron Brubaker, who's famous for not tolerating problem clients. What was I gonna do? You know how hard it is to break into this business and I was bending over backward trying to look as professional as possible. Mama had charmed his pants off. So I let the fact that she was written into the contract as my manager slide. And then, of course, I was stuck with her." She looked at her friends. "And I know what you're thinking. After I split from Mercer over those widely publicized 'creative differences,' I could have dumped her. But-I admit it, okay?-I liked having her like me for the first time in my life. And right up until she started helping herself to my money, she actually did a pretty decent job of representing me."
Then she raised her chin. She knew she'd been needy and had shown poor judgment, but the last thing she wanted was their pity. "Long story short, I was an idiot. So I guess I'm getting what I deserve."
"Bullshit," Hank growled.
"Complete and utter BS," Nell agreed. Reaching out, she gave P.J.'s arm a comforting rub. But her expression was serious-and perhaps a little bit hurt-as she said, "Why have I never heard about this before today?"
Because she hated, hated,hated anyone realizing what a chump she could be when it came to her mother. Hell, she'd just as soon not admit to it now, but Nell was right. They'd been friends longer than P.J. had ever had the opportunity to be with anyone else. And friends deserved the truth.
"It happened before we met," she said carefully. "And in truth, Nell? I'm not exactly proud of how easily I've let Mama manipulate me over the years."
"Ah, hon, that's notyour shame. That rests entirely on your mother's should-"
"Hey, tiny thang!" a cheerful male voice interrupted. "How's my best girl?"
"Hey, Eddie," P.J. replied without turning around. She'd know the voice of her guitarist anywhere-not to mention the dreamy admiration she could see forming on Nell's face and the exasperation on Hank's. Then she was swooped up into strong arms and whirled in a fast, tight circle. Slinging an arm around Eddie's neck, she hung on until he slowed down, then gave his handsome face a friendly pat. Eddie Brashear was charming, talented and not to be trusted farther than you could throw him when it came to the fairer sex. P.J. had helped clean up more of his messes than she cared to remember.Someone had to pick up the pieces when his woman of the moment learned that fidelity wasn't part of his vocabulary, and God knew it was never Eddie.
But he was the perfect diversion from having to chronicle more of her dysfunctional relationship with Jodeen and she was happy he was there.
"You're late," Hank snapped as Eddie set P.J. back on her feet.
"Chill out, old man. Some of us have better things to do than show up half an hour early for sound check. Besides, the roadies are just now finishing setting up." Turning to Nell, he chucked her under the chin. "How are you, sweet thing? Glowing as ever, I see."
She blushed, Hank snarled and P.J., deciding it was pretty much business as usual, said, "Whataya say we get this show on the road?" She walked over to the musicians who were tuning up their instruments in the bandstand and introduced herself.
"We're going to be working hand in glove for a lot of shows for the next several weeks," she told them once she had their names semistraight in her mind. "So let's get started finding out how we sound together." The stage lights came on with a series of loud clanks and she shielded her eyes from the glare as she turned to look out into the theater. "Billy, you ready out there?"
"You betcha."
"Then let's give this a whirl." She looked over her shoulder at Eddie, who'd plugged in his electric guitar and was fitting its strap over his head, and at Hank, who had picked up his fiddle, and said, "We'll start with 'Let the Party Begin.'"
For the next hour and a half they ran through song after song, making adjustments and finalizing the order of the playlist. When they finished the final number P.J. danced around to face the backup band. "God, I love this business! You guys rocked! Beer's on me in my dressing room after the show." She glanced over at Nell, who nodded and wrote on her clipboard. Then, after waiting for the cheer that had greeted her announcement to die down, she said, "Let's bring 'em to their feet out there tonight."
Collecting Nell on her way offstage, she decided to forgo checking out the new bus in favor of heading straight to her dressing room for some downtime before she had to get ready for the show. When she caught another glimpse of Jared sitting by himself in the front row, however, her steps slowed.
He looked so:alone. When she stopped to think about it, in fact, healways seemed to be alone.
Well, duh. She picked up her pace again, striding offstage toward the corridor that led to her dressing room. What did she expect-for him to behave like the Grand Poo-bah of Party Central? He was here to do a job that he clearly took seriously.
Stilclass="underline"
Not once in any of the bars the two of them had hit this past week had she seen Jared chat up a woman or dance with one or even exchange small talk with a bartender. He'd simply sat off by himself. Even jammed shoulder-to-shoulder on a stool at the bar he'd projected an unapproachable manner that was every bit as effective as a neon No Trespassing sign.