Behind the Strings (5 page)

11

A week went by, then two. We were now into the beginning of September and the rumors surrounding Logan and his new “girlfriend” were still very much alive. People really knew how to do their research. In the beginning I earned titles like “
mystery girl,” “overly excited groupie,”
and “
one-night stand.”
Now the articles were starting to reference me by name. They knew where I grew up and what I did for a living. I had worked very hard to keep my ties severed from my father and prayed every day I wouldn’t wake up to someone figuring it out.

I think that is what worried me the most. I could handle the relationship talk. I could handle the groupie accusations, but who I was? I couldn’t change that. I was the daughter of a rock star and a very well-known one at that. If they kept digging, it was very possible somebody was going to figure it out.

Every day when I walked into work I could feel dozens of pairs of eyes gazing in my direction at all times. Whispers in the break room would quickly hush once I rounded the corner and I could just imagine the thoughts in everyone’s minds as the hours went on. There wasn’t much I could do except for smile, pour my coffee, and make a bee-line back to my desk, being thankful that today I was still only Celia Westbrooke, the lucky girl everyone thought was dating Logan Kent. Day after day I’d hold my breath when I opened the doors, hoping it would still be the same, no more than that, and so far it was. I drowned out the office debacle by wearing down the wood on my pencils with my teeth and pounding away at the keys on my laptop music streamed through the headphones in my ears. It seemed that while both had a way of calming my nerves, they also had a way of driving Jaycie to the brink of crazy. Two pencils and three blog write-ups later she was hovering over me and saving the life of pencil number three as she pulled it from my hand.

“I’ll take that. You’ve killed enough trees today,” she said.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head and she got the hint. She and my pencil went on their way back to her corner of the office, and I went back to my music. It wasn’t long, though, until I was interrupted again.

“Hello! Earth to Celia,” a voice startled me from me behind.

I turned around to see Frankie, arms crossed and foot tapping. The look on her face wasn’t of discontentment or malice, but more of sorrow and pity. My long fingers pulled the earphones from my ears and waited.

“How are you doing, honey?” she asked.

“I’m fine, really,” I said. “It’s all so silly.”

“Are you sure? You look kind of pale. And those circles under your eyes…have you not been sleeping well?”

Um, okay. What was next? Were there wrinkles in my blouse? Was my hair flat? Did I have two different-colored heels on?
Go ahead, Frankie, twist that knife a little deeper here
, I thought to myself.

“I’m sleeping fine, actually.”

“Okay, well if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.” Before she left me to my lonesome once again, her hand patted me gently on the top of my head as if to say “There, there, Celia.” A striking reminder of how obviously pathetic I seemed to be, as if I hadn’t had enough of them already today.

I untangled the earphones that lay limp next to my landline and placed them back into my ears once again to finish streaming this week’s country releases. Each song that passed I hoped would be the one to finally mask the meddling thoughts of what my life had become but, right in the middle of the newest Chris Young song, I was interrupted again by Jaycie, who was no longer accepting of my silence. She had rolled her chair over to me and stared relentlessly until I hit the pause button.

“Liar,” she said.

I shot a glare in her direction. A few moments of silence had passed before I was able to muster up any words.

“And what do you think I’m lying about?”

“You’re not fine, I can tell,” she said.

I thrashed the earphones down onto my desk as I turned my chair to face her.

“No, I’m not, but there’s no use in whining about it, so let’s just forget it,” I snapped.

Jaycie’s eyes widened as she shook her head.

“How about we not and go get some lunch?” she said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well I am,” she said as she bounced up from her chair. Before I knew it she was pulling me from mine, dragging me through the hallway and out the door into the mid-afternoon sunshine.

12

The warmth of the sun was perfect for lunch outside on one of my favorite patios over in the Gulch. Jaycie and I sipped on glasses of sangria while waiting to devour our skillet nachos. I hadn’t stopped talking the entire ride over to the Gulch for fear that the conversation would turn to Logan. I talked about the scenery we were passing, the new shoes Jaycie was wearing, and even the dogs that were panting around us. It was only a matter of time, I knew, and as soon as I stuffed that first bite of nachos in my mouth, there was an opening.

“So have you talked to Logan at all?” Jaycie asked.

I shook my head. We had exchanged mostly texts over the last few weeks. None of them good or bad, just generic “
it’s all gonna be okay”
and “
try to ignore it”
from his end. I didn’t want to seem too out of sorts so I would reply back with “
no worries”
and
“I’ve got this.”
Whether or not he believed me was another story, but I tried my best to be convincing.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like being thrust into the spotlight like you have. I’m sure it’s unsettling and you have a right to be upset. I just don’t think you should take it out on Logan, that’s all. You of all people should know, in journalism you do whatever you can to sell a story.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said as I shoved another nacho in my mouth.

“Are you sure this is all that’s bothering you? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

I shrugged. I had no answer. Jaycie and I had confided a lot in each other over the last couple of years, but I had yet to tell her about my past. She, like so many others, had no idea who my father was. And even though I knew I could trust her, I wasn’t ready to explain it all to her yet.

“Can we talk about something else, please?” I begged.

Jaycie turned the subject to other office drama. Who was mad at whom for stealing their yogurt from the fridge, who was caught making out in the copy room and who was secretly dating (though really not so secretly). I laughed at her impersonations as she went through each story, wondering how she had so much detailed information and I knew nothing about any of it.

“My dad is a private investigator, remember?” Jaycie said. “Totally not as exciting as all those shows you see on TV, but he did teach me a thing or two about reading people and paying attention to my surroundings.”

“Oh yeah?” I said looking around a bit before I leaned in closer to whisper. “What do you see around us now? Anything exciting?”

She scanned the crowd for a minute. First she started with a couple around our age.

“They are on their first, maybe second date. Conversation is still awkward. See how she’s tapping her fingers together, desperately trying to think of anything to break the silence. And he takes constant sips of his drink as an excuse for not talking.”

I laughed as I sat there analyzing the two of them. Jaycie’s assumption made perfect sense. I was actually feeling awkward for them, but the entertainment was just what I needed to take my mind off of this whole Logan thing.

Panning the rooftop for our next target, I pointed to a young boy, maybe two or three. He was munching on a French fry across from a girl too occupied by her cell phone to care that his face was smothered in ketchup.

“That has to be his nanny. I’m gonna say a live-in one because of the accent and she’s holding the keys to a Jag. With no ring on her finger or a single designer on her whole body? No way that’s hers.”

Right as I was about to point to another casualty, I caught Jaycie’s eyes widen as she peered to the side of us. She slowly but stiffly placed her drink back on the table and clenched her fists.

“Do
not
look to your left,” she said to me.

“What? Why?” I said, of course looking to my left.

There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary I could see, but we were in the middle of the lunchtime rush and it had become quite busy. It would be impossible for me to find what I didn’t know I was looking for and I was shocked that Jaycie actually caught it.

“Look at him, all jazzed up in a blue collared shirt hiding behind those sunglasses like we wouldn’t notice him. Either he texts in a very weird position or he’s totally trying to nonchalantly take pictures of you.”

It took me a minute to find him, but when I did, I knew exactly who he was. His name was Hunter Jenson. He was a reporter for the local news channel. I watched his “Nashville Nights” segment every Wednesday as he spilled the beans about celebrity sightings, local events, and other entertainment happenings here in Music City. I had, not happily, been a story or two over the last couple of weeks and I could only imagine what he was trying to get to reveal on this week’s edition.

“I’ve got this,” Jaycie said as she slowly stood from the table.

She pulled her sunglasses over her eyes and flipped her hair before walking slowly in Hunter’s direction. The hand closest to him held her cell phone, and she fixed her eyes on it as she drew closer to him. Her path purposely blocked his camera angle, which must have been her way of verifying his intentions. I could see out of the corner of my eye him lean away from her as she obstructed his view, his phone still intent on capturing me.

Still looking down at her phone, Jaycie walked straight into Hunter’s table. She made sure there was enough force to topple his drink over and spill onto his lap. The phone dropped immediately and Hunter jumped to his feet.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Next time watch where you’re going,” he spat.

“I’ll get you some napkins, really, I’m so sorry, clumsy me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Jaycie continued to make a scene. She called out for the waiter and attempted to pat his pants dry with napkins.

“Whoa, whoa,” Hunter said as he backed away. “I think I can take it from here.”

“By all means,” Jaycie said. “My apologies again, sir.”

A smirk crossed her face as she sat back down across from me. We both hid our faces in laughter and I gave her an under-the-table high-five before we called for the check. Hunter had moved tables by the time we got up to leave. I was no longer in clear view of him, but I’m pretty sure he had enough adventure for the day because his phone was no longer in sight anyway.

“Thank you for that,” I said to Jaycie.

“Hey, I’ve always got your back girl. We should do this more often.

“Cause scenes at restaurants?” I asked.

“Funny,” she said, “I mean go out, do something that doesn’t involve work. Maybe it’s time to bring our trivia nights back into the schedule.”

I nodded. Jaycie and I were no stranger to trivia nights. When we first started at
Behind the Strings,
we used to make it a weekly thing. We had slacked off on it within the past year due to lack of time, but I think she was right. With everything going on, it would be nice to have some fun back in my life.

13

It was well passed my bedtime when Logan’s name flashed across my phone. My head jerked from the pillow as I reached my hand towards the noise. I have to admit, when I heard his voice on the other end of the line the anxiety and stress that had been boiling inside of me seemed to dissipate. His voice was soothing as he asked how I was doing.

“I’m hanging in there,” I said.

I told him about the incident that happened with Jaycie earlier that day. He laughed about the spilled drink and applauded Jaycie for her being so crafty. Then he apologized again for all the trouble I’d been going through.

“You don’t have to be sorry. This isn’t anybody’s fault.”

“I know, and it
will
blow over, it always does.”

Logan told me about the time he did a few tour dates with a big-name female artist. One morning they both woke up to find that they were engaged. At least, according to the tabloids they were. The story came out of nowhere. That there weren’t even any compromising pictures as there had been with us. It took about six weeks or so, but a high-profile separation overtook the story and soon it was all forgotten.

We both laughed this time then changed the subject to life on the road. I have to admit a hint of envy came over me as I listened to Logan talk about all of his adventures. He worked hard every day on radio station tours and each night performing in a different city, but there were some days he got to relax, sightsee and take in his surroundings. He talked about visiting the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Baltimore’s Inner Harbor and tasting one of Philly’s authentic cheesesteaks for the first time.

“I could totally go for some sushi right now, my stomach is growling,” I said.

“Sushi? Really?” he asked.

“What? I forgot to eat dinner, I’m hungry.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. Your stomach has always been nocturnal, but since when do you like sushi? You’ve always been a bland eater. No ketchup on your eggs. Nothing but red sauce on your pasta and certainly no raw fish rolled up in seaweed.”

“Oh yes, those were the days. I’ve changed since then,” I said, placing my hand on my stomach. “Man, all that food talk has my stomach growling.”

“Ha, maybe you haven’t changed all that much after all,” Logan said.

He spent the rest of the conversation reminding me of the times I had tiptoed out of my house and woke him up with the patter of rocks at his second-story window in the middle of a Saturday night. We had seen our fair share of sunrises during our high school years thanks to my ravenous appetite.

We may not have had much in our small town of Hamden growing up, but one place I sure missed now that I was settled here in Nashville was Louie’s Hot Dogs. The only place open past midnight within fifty miles or so. Everyone would flock there after nights at Sweetwater Bistro for one last hurrah before they headed home for the night. Not me, though; for some reason I always did the opposite. Logan would walk me home after his shows and I’d be asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow. A couple hours later, though, I’d wake up craving a chilidog and off I went. Chilidogs were literally the only non-bland food (as Logan would say) that I would eat growing up. The old me was not a fan of mixing foods together, but there was something about Louie’s that I couldn’t resist.

Louie would pile on the extra chili for both of us and we’d carry them over to the park across the street. We’d walk out to the end of the dock and dangle our bare feet in the pond as we stuffed our faces with those chilidogs. Then we’d just sit there, my head on Logan’s shoulder. Sometimes we’d talk and other times we’d fall asleep until the glistening of the sun bounced off the water. Then we’d both sneak back home and I’d catch just a little more sleep until my mom came home and started the usual Sunday pancake breakfasts.

“We need to find a Louie’s here in Nashville. My stomach just got a serious craving.”

“Ha! Well, it’s not open late night, but there is a hot dog stand in East Nashville that has one heck of a chili cheese dog.”

“We’re going next time you’re home.”

“Well, that’s actually why I called,” Logan said.

It seemed Logan would be home sooner than he had thought. Craig, one half of the duo he was touring with, had fallen ill, and they had to postpone a few of the dates so he could rest up a bit. Logan’s manager scheduled a few hometown shows for him in the meantime and he’d be coming into town in less than 72 hours.

The nostalgia of our conversation made me more excited than ever for Logan to get home. I loved reminiscing about the good times. Making plans for hot dog stands made me feel like I was eighteen again. I drifted off to sleep to the sound of Logan’s goodbye and a vision of our feet swinging above the water off the fishing docks.