The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

I’d been upset with my boss, but it swung wildly toward my boyfriend. “What are you doing?”

“Apparently,” Ardy said, stroking a hand over his beard, “the kid doesn’t want me as a manager, he wants you. I’m inclined to give my artists what they want, because otherwise they get sad, and sad artists don’t make as much money—which then makes me very sad.”

My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the rest of the room.

I had my hand closest to Troy resting on the bench, and he set his beside mine, our pinkie fingers touching. This simple gesture was somehow more powerful than anything else. He wanted to connect with me, but he also wanted to keep it professional.

Although I was beginning to doubt anyone would care. Romantic relationships between managers and artists weren’t unheard of. If Ardy had no issue with us dating and working together, others would follow his lead.

Troy’s eyes scoured my face, searching for my reaction, but I was too shocked to have one.

Ardy sensed the enormity of the conversation brewing and rose from his seat. “Excuse me, I’m going to check on Stella.”

When he moved out of earshot, Troy’s voice turned quiet, but it was still strong and powerful. “You said you’re all in, so let’s be all in together. I’m not doing it without you.”

This handsome, talented man was willing to give up everything, once again, just for a chance with me.

“I want this,” he continued. “Don’t act like you don’t too.” His expression was so focused and determined, it made my pulse race. He leaned closer. “Yeah, it might not be easy, but I won’t give up.” He moved his hand, so it covered mine. “So, trust me, Erika, and say yes.”

He was right. I wanted this. I wanted him personally and professionally, and the only thing holding me back was my fear. I wasn’t going to let it stop me this time. My answer came quickly and sure. “Yes.”

His grin lit up his entire face.

Once again, Troy and I stood in the wings, our hands laced together, only this time there was a lot more room since the backdrop curtain had been lifted. Nearby, Ardy was gathered with the rest of Stella’s team, watching her final show.

The stage was bathed in bright strobing lights, and ahead of us, Stella strutted toward the crowd, flinging her hair over her shoulder as she sang into the sparkly mic in her hand. Her opening number had been one of her first crossover hits, and now she was performing the song ‘Inferior’ from her newest album, which was pure pop. The infectious tune was about a boyfriend who made her feel small to build himself up. It had a wicked hook, asking who was inferior now?

Not her, with a multi-platinum album and two Grammys to her name.

And she’d stayed grounded and gracious through it. It gave me so much hope for my boyfriend. He’d be a star like her someday, I just knew it.

Troy leaned over and had to shout it in my ear over the deafening music. “I have a question for you.”

“What?”

“I have a question,” he repeated, louder.

I shook my head. “No, I mean, what’s your question?”

“Can I change some of the lyrics in ‘Power?’”

He wanted to ask me this now? “Yeah,” I shouted back. “It’s your song, if you want to—”

“Cool,” he announced. “I’ll be right back.”

He dropped my hand and strode forward, picking his earpiece up off his shoulder to wedge it back in his ear. The same equipment tech from before appeared with Troy’s guitar, and after a quick exchange, Troy nodded and took it.

Onstage, Stella’s song came to its end and while the sold-out crowd of twenty thousand screamed, hyperawareness rolled through me. What was going on?

“What’s up, Nashville?” Stella asked, her voice flooding the arena.

She barely sounded out of breath, even as she’d sung and danced the hell out of her last number. The lighting changed and softened from the harsh red to a subdued blue, and as she spoke, the center section of the stage behind her began to rise, stacking into a set of giant steps.

“This is such a bittersweet night for me,” she continued, “because this tour has been an amazing experience and now that it’s almost over, well, gosh . . . I wish it could last forever. You know I have the greatest fans in the world, and I’m so blessed and honored y’all are here.” She clasped both of her hands around the wireless microphone. “So, I want to make tonight as special for y’all as it is for me, and debut something original. You’ll be the first to hear it. How does that sound?”

The crowd agreed, roaring so loud I felt it in my bones.

“I need some help though,” she said. “Y’all remember Troy Osbourne, don’t you?” She cast her arm out to the side of the stage, welcoming him to join her.