The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

The tension in her shoulders eased and she nodded subtly. The intimate spell was broken, and she shifted her attention toward the couch and my guitar. “How long do you need to warm up?”

Her message was loud and clear. I needed to get on with it. I leaned over and unzipped the case. “I sang on the drive over, so I’m ready whenever y’all are.”

“Good. I’ll let Ardy know.”

Her boss was a guy with a broad chest and a thick beard patched with gray, and I expected him to make my anxiety worse, but he had a calming effect the second he stepped into the recording studio. I had the strap to my guitar on a shoulder, so I tucked my pick into the strings on the fret board and shook his hand. His handshake was firm and sort of fatherly.

“He’s got a good look about him,” he lobbed over his shoulder to Erika, who lingered in the door between the studio and the mix room. Finishing his visual evaluation, his eyes sharpened on mine. “Okay, kid. Let’s hear what you got.”

Ardy was stone cold as I played, giving off zero reaction while I belted out the first verse. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, and the only movement he made after that was to blink slowly.

Oh, fuck, this audition wasn’t going well.

When I hit the chorus, sweat trickled down my spine, my fingers were clumsy on the strings, and my tongue suddenly felt too big for my mouth. I didn’t glance over at Erika because I didn’t want to see the disappointment in her—

Shit.

Ardy lifted a hand, signaling for me to stop, and I tightened my left hand around the fretboard to stop the strings from vibrating. My heart pounded in my throat. This was where he thanked me for my time and sent me on my way, I was sure of it. Forty-five seconds was all he needed to hear to know I wasn’t good enough.

He didn’t speak, though. Instead, he nodded to himself and stroked his short beard with his thumb and forefinger, considering. “Yeah, all right,” he announced, turning his head toward Erika. “He needs some polish, but I’m with you. Think you can have him ready in time?”

If I weren’t reeling with surprise, I probably would have thought the certainty in her voice was sexy. “Absolutely.”

“Where’d you find him?” he asked.

“He’s, uh . . . my pool boy.”

A smile widened on the man’s face and he looked at me for confirmation. “No shit, really?”

“Yeah,” I said.

She could have said she’d discovered me at Blanche’s, but this made sense too. It was hard pretending I wasn’t interested in her, but it would have been impossible to act like we were strangers. And if she had said I was her best friend’s son, her boss might have wondered about her friendship impacting her judgement.

Ardy’s amusement continued. “Did you know she’s one of my best agents? Or was it blind luck you happened to work for her?”

Was he asking if I’d sought her out for opportunity? Because I’d absolutely positioned myself to get close to her—just not for the reason he thought. I tilted my head and pulled the corner of my mouth up into a lopsided smile. “I knew she was an agent.”

“Well,” he said, “you’re not afraid to hustle to get your foot in the door and I can respect that.” He strolled toward the door. “You need some hustle if you’re going to make it in this business. Let’s get your track recorded and then we can talk about the next step.”

Everything I was feeling—the thrill making my heart ricochet wildly inside my chest—intensified when my gaze locked onto Erika. She didn’t speak, but the proud thought was loud on her face.

You did it.

I rode high the rest of the day. It didn’t bother me when Bill asked for my help in tearing out the brick fireplace at the new jobsite, or when he stood back to supervise and left all the work to me. I wasn’t irritated for once when my best friend Preston bailed on drinks to go hang out with his new girlfriend.

Nothing could ruin this perfect day—although my mom sure tried.

Since I was staying in the guest house, I came and went through the back gate, bypassing the main house completely. Maybe my mom was genuinely hanging out beside the pool, but it seemed unlikely because it was miserably humid outside, and the gnats buzzing around were always the most annoying in the evenings. When she spotted me, she stood from her patio chair.

It was clear I’d just walked into an ambush.

“Hey,” she said, putting her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes, even though she was in the shade of the umbrella. “How was work? Did you see Bill’s text message?”