"I have a radio interview at one. Then sound check at four."
He made a notation in his notebook then glanced up at her. "Is this another of those satellite interviews that you conduct over the phone?"
"No." She shoved a hank of her bed-messy hair behind her ear. "From now on they're all live."
"In that case, plan on me accompanying you."
"All right."
"Don't plan on goinganywhere by yourself from this point forward. That means either me, Hank, Nell or someone else you trust is to be with you when you're around the arena areas. And I'm with you when you go out in public."
She grimaced, but nodded gamely. "Gotcha."
Seeing her put a brave face on, he relented. "That letter might have been a one-shot deal and it might not even have anything to do with the incident with the light. But we don't bet your safety on it. Until we know otherwise we treat everything as connected and we stay vigilant. Where's Eddie?"
"Still in bed," Hank said. "Want me to roust him?"
"No. He's hardly ever around, so his part in this isn't as crucial as yours and Nell's. But fill him in when he gets up, will you? Because when he is here he has to be every bit as watchful as the rest of you."
P.J. looked up at him. "Should I be afraid, J?"
His stomach tightening at hearing the diminutive she'd given his name years ago, he reached without thinking to touch a gentle fingertip to the point of her chin. "No, just aware. Just stay aware, Peej."
P.J. didn't think that would be a problem. She hadn't been kidding about being freaked last night and she had every intention of keeping her eyes peeled from now on. Nothing was going to get past her.
But later that afternoon as she discussed her career on the air with a Los Angeles DJ called Lonesome Jack, the thought of Jared not leaving the tour after all kept scratching at the back of her mind-and her emotions vacillated wildly.
On the one hand, her inner little girl, who'd once given him a leading role in her most heartfelt dreams, still lingered in some of the more shadowy corners of her psyche. And Jared's take-charge attitude last night had played right into those fantasies. He'd known exactly what should be done and had organized her, Nell and Hank with a competent lack of fuss into doing it. It had been enormously comforting.
"We've talked about the success of 'Crying Myself to Sleep' and 'Let the Party Begin,'" Lonesome Jack interrupted her thoughts. "Did you write those songs yourself?"
"Just 'Crying Myself to Sleep.'" On the other hand, she wasn't a little girl anymore. And if she'd had any idea Jared would be hanging around instead of leaving, she never would have kissed him the way she had. How was she supposed to deal with him withthat forever in the back of her mind?
Then she shoved the ping-ponging viewpoints aside and concentrated on her interview. "That one came from moving around a lot as a kid and feeling like an outsider every time I landed in a new town."
"How much of your own music do you write?"
"I probably pen about a third of my songs."
"What's your favorite?"
She laughed. "I don't know this from firsthand experience, mind you, but I gotta imagine picking just one song from all the ones I dragged kicking and screaming from my soul must be a little like having to name your favorite child." Then she gave Lonesome Jack a grin. "Still, that said, I have a sneaking fondness for 'Designated Driver.'"
"The one about drinking and not driving."
She gave him a wry smile. "Bless you-you've obviously listened to the entire CD. But yes. I doubt I lived in a town growing up that had a population of more than two thousand souls. And a common denominator with hick towns everywhere is teenage drinking."
"You think that's due to a lack of other available entertainment?"
"Probably. Boondock towns rarely have a movie theater, let alone the type of underage, liquor-free clubs where kids can go to party. You can always find a beer blast somewhere, though. And in at least six of the towns I lived in, students died or were seriously injured in alcohol-related accidents. That makes this subject close to my heart. So if even one kid takes my song to heart and picks a designated driver before he or she goes out to party in the woods or at the lake I'll be one happy woman."
"Wouldn't it be more responsible to tell kids not to drink in the first place?"
"Absolutely. I don't know how realistic it is, though. In an ideal world preaching would make an impact, but I can't honestly say I've ever seen the just-say-no principle work. The desire to fit in is a lot more immediate and compelling than some country singer's opinion. God knows peer pressure is alive and well. Probably even more so in small-town America than in its bigger-city counterparts, where I'm sure it's bad enough."
"You might have a point," Lonesome Jack said. "Listeners, what do you think? Let's open the lines now and take a few calls." He pointed to his engineer, who toggled open a line, and said, "Hi, you're on the air. Who am I speaking to?"
"My name is Benjamin McGrath," said a familiar voice.
P.J. straightened in her chair. "Ben?" She glanced at the disc jockey in confusion.
He winked at her. "Please welcome Priscilla Jayne's manager, cowgirls and cowpokes," he said to his listeners in a hearty DJ voice.
"I'm calling to congratulate her on the success of her single 'Crying Myself to Sleep,'" Ben said. "It's the second record on herWatch Me Fly album to go digital gold. I have in my hand a copy of a certificate commemorating the sale of more than one hundred thousand downloads. I overnighted the original and it will be presented at tomorrow night's concert. Congratulations, Priscilla."
A laugh bubbled out of her. "Ohmigawd. Seriously?"
"Absolutely," Lonesome Jack said, then leaned into the microphone. "So listen up, all you fans out there. If you don't have your ticket to Priscilla Jayne's concert yet and you'd like to see the official presentation, you'll want to run, not walk, to your nearest Ticketmaster. Uhoh, wait a second. Marley's signaling me." He leaned over to hear as his coworker spoke in his ear, then returned to the mic.
"Erase what I just said," he drawled. "It appears both concerts have sold out. But don't despair, my little buckaroos, because we here at KPIX are still the proud owners of a block of tickets. And for the next ten lucky listeners to be the ninth caller when they hear this-" he played the opening bars of "Crying Myself to Sleep" "-you'll not only be our guest to hear Priscilla Jayne's concert, but you'll be issued a backstage pass so you can personally offer her your congratulations after the show."
Jazzed up yet vaguely uneasy, P.J. had to concentrate in order to answer the number of legitimate phone-in calls that followed. She was still in a daze and bouncing from one emotion to another as she wrapped up the interview with the DJ and thanked him not only for having her on today's show and the airtime his station devoted to her music, but for the part he'd played as well in staging the news of her single going digital gold. Leaving the soundbooth, she floated down the hallway to the reception area where she promptly bounced off Jared's chest when she walked right into him without seeing him. She distantly heard Lonesome Jack's program playing softly through speakers mounted on the wall.
"Hey." Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, he steadied her, then held her at arm's length to grin down at her. "Congratulations! How cool was that? You didn't know anything about it, I take it?"
"No." Then, because his open expression reminded her of the boy she'd known back when they were each other's only support system, she admitted, "For years I dreamed of the kind of success I'm beginning to enjoy. But now that it's coming my way-" She broke off, because she'd just gotten excellent news and truly didn't know why she wasn't simply bouncing with joy.