The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

“Great job, kid,” Ardy said, gesturing to the suite.

We stepped inside, and although the room was decorated the same as Troy’s, the energy was wildly different. It was full of people, most of whom congregated by the table at the back, brimming with fancy appetizers and drinks. Stella sat in a chair in front of the large screen TV while a woman knelt beside her and applied bronzer. Behind her, a man had her long blonde locks rolled in a huge round brush and worked to blow dry it sleek and straight.

“Oh my God, Troy,” she exclaimed in a bright voice as soon as she saw him, lifting a hand to signal to her hairstylist to give her a second. The hairdryer cut off. “You were amazing! I got chills.” She turned to her makeup artist. “Remember, Lorraine? When I said I had goosebumps?”

The woman nodded in confirmation. “She did.”

Troy shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. “Thank you.” His tone was full of gratitude he struggled to adequately express. “I can’t thank you enough for everything.”

Stella scrunched her face in a warm smile. “You’re welcome. I loved getting to do it.” On screen, the crowd murmured in excitement. The lights had gone down, and the next act was preparing to start their set. She turned her gaze to the TV, but her attention was still with us. “Y’all are welcome to stay and hang out.”

Troy wasn’t really given a choice. Some of the music executives he’d dined with last night were here in Stella’s suite, and they came over to offer their congratulations on the show.

“Do you need anything?” I asked him in the spare seconds we could grab between conversations. “Something to eat or drink?” I gestured to his monitor that was no longer hooked in his ear but hung by the cord around the back of his neck. “Want me to find someone to take that?”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly.

I smiled knowingly. He’d commented he felt legit when he’d first put it on, and he wasn’t ready for that feeling to be over.

His expression suddenly went blank. “My parents.”

I nodded. “I’ll let them know you’re here, and you’ll see them after the show.”

When I turned to go, he grabbed my wrist. “Wait, Erika . . . it’s fine, I can do it.”

It was clear he was torn. He wanted to see his folks and he worried this would be awkward for me, but I laughed. I was too happy for him to let anything bring me down.

Plus, today wasn’t about me or Jenna or Bill anyway.

“No, you need to be in here. I’ve got this.”

He was reluctant to let me go, but he did.

Outside of the suite, I could hear the frenetic, lively sound of The Red Door Band pumping through the arena. They had a fiddle player that was outstanding and always got the crowd on their feet. It meant I had to knock loudly when I gave a courtesy knock on the door to Troy’s suite.

Inside I found Jenna and Bill sitting on the white leather couch, their anxious gazes turned to me.

“Hey there.” I strode into the room and gave them a polite smile. “I just wanted to let y’all know Stella invited Troy to hang out with her for a bit, so he’ll need to catch up later.”

Jenna’s disappointment rang through her expression and her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

I took a step closer, feeling the urge to comfort her. “This is a really good opportunity for him to network. Folks from Stella’s record label are in there, and they want to chat him up.” I gave her an understanding look. “He’s eager to see you too.”

Bill set his hand reassuringly on his wife’s knee. “It’s okay. We can see him after.”

Jenna’s gaze drifted from her husband over to me, and emotion teemed in her eyes. “I wanted to tell him how proud we are of him.” She pressed her hand to her chest, her fingers toying absentmindedly with the lanyard to her VIP badge. “Will you tell him for us?”

The way she asked was hopeful and sweet, and it was as if she wouldn’t trust hardly anyone else to deliver this important message . . . but she trusted me.

I swallowed a breath and nodded. “Of course.” I cleared my throat, trying to disguise how affected I was. “Did you enjoy the show?”

I’d expected them to say yes, to gush about how amazing their son had been. Although I wouldn’t have traded being backstage with him for anything, I was a little envious they’d gotten to experience his performance from the crowd.

What I hadn’t expected was Jenna to leap from the couch, run at me, and crush me in a hug so powerful it was hard to breathe. The force of it made me stumble back a step.