The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

But . . . wait. Fuck that. I hadn’t been hungry because I hadn’t believed it was even possible. Now that it was? I craved it with every inch of my soul. Standing on the stage felt right. I knew that I belonged here.

Although a lot of the people in the audience were looking at me like I didn’t. There was distrust in their eyes. This kid Troy from Nashville was unproven, and probably not a risk Stella should take with her brand.

“Can I say something?” I asked.

Ardy motioned for me to go ahead.

“I just wanted to thank y’all for letting me come out and perform today.” I glanced around the theatre, taking it all in. “It’s an honor to stand on this stage, especially for an unknown like me, and to get this opportunity. I don’t know if Stella sees this part of the process, but either way . . . I appreciate what y’all have done.”

I genuinely meant what I said, but I also hoped the words would reach Stella personally. She wanted to pay it forward and help someone launch their career, and she couldn’t find anyone more unknown than me.

“No, thank you.” Did Ardy sound this friendly and warm as he said goodbye to everyone else who’d auditioned? “We appreciate your time. Erika will let you know if we need anything else.”

The sound tech reappeared and unclipped the small microphone from my guitar.

Audition over, I exited the stage the way I’d come and walked in a trance-like state back to the green room where my stuff was. All the prep and anxiety over it, and the whole thing had taken less than twenty minutes. I wouldn’t find out how I’d done for weeks. The auditions would be edited together and posted to Stella’s website.

I moved methodically as I put the guitar back in its case, wondering how I’d survive the waiting, but then . . . I didn’t have to. My phone buzzed with a text message.

Erika: You fucking nailed it.

SIXTEEN

Erika

As soon as Ardy ended our team meeting, Charlotte practically climbed over the Opry House seats to get to me. It’d been a long day of listening to auditions, and the consensus among Warbler was to recommend Lauren as the agency’s pick to Stella. Like Troy, she’d also knocked her audition out of the park, but she had a terrific résumé, including touring experience, to back her performance up.

Ardy wanted to play it safe.

I was thrilled for my client, but the personal disappointment inside me was crushing. I wanted this so badly for Troy. All hope wasn’t lost though, I reminded myself. Stella’s fans would have a say when the series aired on her site, and the artist herself would make the final decision.

Charlotte’s smile was bright and energetic. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

I stood from my seat and stretched, tired from sitting all afternoon. “Sure. What’s up?”

She glanced around mischievously and lowered her voice, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “The pool boy. He’s yours, right?”

My body was suddenly made out of concrete. “What?”

“Your client? Troy.”

“Oh.” It was embarrassing where my mind had automatically gone. Of course she’d meant professionally. “Yeah, I brought him in.”

This was the answer she was hoping for because her smile widened. “So, I know I’m probably not supposed to ask this, but like . . . what’s his deal? Do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

The concrete was back, solidifying my bones. I could give her a line about not getting into the personal lives of my clients, but it’d be utter bullshit. Instead, I gave her the most honest answer I could. “No, I don’t know if he has a girlfriend.”

Because while Troy and I were exclusive, we’d never put those labels on each other. It wasn’t like we dated. We had wild sex and I used him both as my personal sex toy and my muse to write music. That didn’t mean I was his girlfriend.

Charlotte looked pleased. “Then he probably doesn’t. I think she would have been here if he did, or he would have mentioned her to you.” She quirked her head to the side. “I mean, it’s none of my business. It’s not like I can date him even if I wanted to. My dad would freak out.”

The idea of Charlotte and Troy dating was a punch to my stomach. It wasn’t just how we were secretly together. It was the fact that Troy and Charlotte were the same age. They were both attractive, and no one would think twice about them if they went out. On the surface, she made a lot more sense for him than I did.

I fucking hated it.

And what happened when Troy eventually realized I was too old for him? He’d leave me for a girl half my age . . . probably one who looked just like Charlotte.