Finding Haven (28 page)

Evan chuckled as he took his station in the rental stand. He hadn’t felt that much
like a teenager since he was one. It was downright hilarious that he had almost gotten
an ass-chewing from an overprotective father—now that was a headline
Celebrity Watch
should run:
World’s Most Eligible Bachelor sent to time out
. He flipped through the checklist on the clipboard and counted how many pieces of
equipment were out on the water.

“W
ISH ME
luck.” Haven clutched her phone in her right hand, and waited for Jay to say something
calming.

“Good luck, pretty girl.” He winked. “Just remember, don’t agree to anything until
they send over a copy of the contract and we read through it? I don’t want them to
take advantage of you because it’s your first deal.”

He wouldn’t open up about his book contract, but he spoke with such passion, she could
only assume he had a bad experience with contracts. The advice was good. She needed
it. No reason to jump into anything before she had time to think through the offer.

“I’m so nervous.” Her knees might actually knock together she was shaking so much.

He held her by the shoulders. “They already love your music. You are the ones with
all the cards here.”

“Right. Right.” She bit her bottom lip. Jay’s eyes drifted over her shoulder.

“Hey, what’s going on at The Windsheer?” He pointed toward the hotel across the street.

She pivoted on her heels and caught a glimpse of a large group climbing the stairs
of the historic building. It looked like there were photographers following the party
into the lobby.

“I have no idea. But Nell would know. She knows everything.” She turned back, needing
reassurance from his eyes. They were always so soothing when she got worked up.

He patted her on the backside, followed by a tight squeeze. “Go get ‘em. It’s four.”
He spun her out of the rental entrance. It would be silly to ask him to make the call
with her, but part of her wanted him close by.

This was more nerve-wracking than her first day of classes at Carolina when she didn’t
know a single soul, or graduation day, when the world opened up the black hole of
uncertainty.

She forced a smile on her face as she walked to the parking lot. Wasn’t there a saying
about smiling on the phone? She couldn’t think of it, but knew it mattered. It was
stuffy inside her car; she turned the AC to high, hoping it would cool quickly. There
was no privacy in the store, and after her late-morning stunt, there wasn’t any way
she could take off early. A call in the seclusion of her car was the best she could
work out.

The number for Blue Steel was in her back pocket. She pulled out the email, read the
numbers aloud, and tapped the digits into her phone.

“Blue Steel Records. How may I direct your call?” a woman answered.

“Hi, this is Haven Owen. I have a conference call with Bruce Fisher.” Her stomach
flipped with butterflies. This was actually happening.

“Yes, it looks like you’re on the call schedule. Hold please.”

Haven didn’t know if she was breathing in or out; her chest was so tight, it might
have forgotten what it was supposed to do.

“Haven! Great to have you on the line.” A booming voice sounded in her ear. “This
is Bruce.”

“Mr. Fisher, thank you so much. I couldn’t believe it when I got your email yesterday.”
She hoped she sounded like a professional.

“Call me Bruce.”

“Ok. Bruce.” This time she had a genuine smile. She couldn’t help but think parts
of his words reminded her of Jay’s accent. They were both from Texas.

“Let’s talk a minute. Looks like we have three songs of yours, and I have an artist
in mind who could cut them.”

Haven’s heart stopped. “Really?” She thought they were going to discuss taking the
songs on and shopping around for someone to record or demo them. It never occurred
to her there would be someone lined up already.

“Have you ever heard of Carly Stone?”

“Oh my God!” Haven covered her mouth. All the prepping in the world couldn’t contain
her excitement. It sputtered out. Ever since Carly had made a few YouTube videos that
went viral overnight, people were clamoring for anything she could produce. This was
unreal.

“So, I take that as a yes?” Bruce chuckled a deep, warm laugh on the other end.

“I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise. Yes, that is a yes. I know who she is.” Haven
noticed that the crowd from The Windsheer had gathered again. They were crossing the
street.

“Good. I think she’ll be the perfect fit for your songs. You’re both young and have
that vibe that people really want right now.”

Why were there people taking pictures? The crowd was distracting. Great, they were
headed into the store. She would have to wrap the call up quickly, and get back inside
before Nell ratted her out. She could only barter for so much time away from the register.

“Haven, you there?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m here.” She shifted in her seat, turning from the scene in front
of the store. “I am absolutely blown away. Carly Stone is amazing. I think she’d be
perfect for my songs. I just can’t believe she’d want to record something of mine.”
Carly was known for her indie roots, but this seemed too good to be true.

“Why wouldn’t she? She’s friends with Evan too.”

Haven didn’t want to sound like any more of a rookie than she already was, but she
didn’t know who Evan was. Maybe a producer.

“When Evan’s agent called and said he wanted us to take a look at your material, it
was a no brainer. Evan and I go way back. Played football together in college, but
I’m sure he’s mentioned that to you.”

Haven shook her head. “Mr.—” She corrected herself, “Bruce. I don’t know an Evan.”
This was embarrassing. He was probably an important and influential music maker, and
she had to admit to the head of Blue Steel Records she had never heard of him.

“Evan Carlson? Tall guy? Makes all the ladies swoon? He’s got a Texas accent—likes
cold beer? You don’t know the movie star, Evan Carlson?”

Haven slumped into the seat, her body stiff with fear. Or was it shock? Whatever it
was, it made her shake and her stomach spasm. This didn’t make sense. Bruce Fisher
could not possibly be telling her that she knew Evan Carlson. That wasn’t possible.
The tall, heart-melting Texan she knew was named Jay.

“I-I don’t know.” It was the best she could muster considering the panic gripping
her.

“Listen, Haven. I have another call coming in. I hate to cut this short, but I’ll
have my assistant email over the contracts. Take a few days, look everything over,
and then we can set up a time to talk again. Sound good?”

She nodded, forgetting he needed audibles on the phone.

“Tell Evan I said howdy, and I’m looking forward to grabbing a beer with him when
he gets back from vacation. Son of a bitch has been gone all summer.”

Before she could put together a reasonable response or even better, a question, Bruce
hung up. She looked at the phone, now dark.

There had to be an explanation. There was some sort of mix-up or funny coincidence.
Jay would probably laugh at her when she told him Bruce thought they played football
together.

Then she remembered when Jay told her about his concussions. About how he stopped
playing, because he was worried it would do more harm to his body as he got older.
Her mouth went dry.

The beer? Jay loved his Texas beer, but any guy from Texas loved that stuff, right?
It didn’t mean anything. Just because she went to Carolina didn’t mean she was the
only girl who loved Moscato. That was a ridiculous assumption.

Flashes of Jay scattered through her mind. He used to wear a hat pulled over his eyes
and dark sunglasses, and he went through a scruffy bearded phase, which didn’t seem
to match the guy she knew now. Little by little his Texas accent appeared, and he
called her darlin’—something she didn’t hear him say in the beginning. At that time,
she dismissed it. However, could she dismiss all those things together?

It hurt to breathe. Her breaths were shallower. Even with the AC running, the air
in the car felt stagnate. Oh my God, she might throw up right in the car. She reached
for the handle, not knowing if she needed the humid August air or just something to
keep her from falling into the blackness that engulfed the space around her. She staggered
to her feet and pointed her body in the direction of the rental stand. Jay would be
there. He could fix this. He could explain. She took a step forward when, out of nowhere,
the flashes started and someone shoved a microphone in her face.

“Are you responsible for the breakup of Emmy Harper and Evan Carlson?”

“Did you know he and Emmy were still dating when you hit on him?”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Would you like to make an official statement?”

“What’s your favorite thing about Evan?”

She couldn’t catch her bearings. Everything heaved and rocked as if she was clinging
to a raft in the middle of a sea storm. She tried to push past them, but the circle
was tight and she didn’t know which way was the best escape.

“Tell us what it feels like to stab America’s sweetheart in the back.”

“Do your parents live here?”

“Is it true you used to date a surfer?”

Haven grabbed the sides of her head, begging the questions to stop. It was like being
swarmed by angry bees. Some stings hurt worse than others, but they were all public
and all intensely confusing, leaving open wounds for the world to see.

N
ELL HAD
called him inside to help her unload a box of Frisbees and a few cases of sunscreen.
Sometimes he thought the woman just didn’t like being alone in the store. Haven had
barely been gone thirty seconds before he got paged for manual labor.

“Only these four boxes?” he called to Nell, but she didn’t answer. He ripped open
the tape and lined them on the floor so she wouldn’t have to strain with the awkward
sizes.

“Jay! Jay! You’ve got to come see this. Hurry up.” He heard her shrill voice at the
front of the store.

“What is going on, Nell?” He dropped the last box and headed to the register.

There weren’t words. There weren’t thoughts, just complete panic and nausea. Climbing
the steps of Owen’s General Store was Emmy, her long blond hair cascading around her
shoulders, followed by her entourage and a slew of reporters.

Shit. Dammit. Fuck. If the curse word didn’t exist, he was making it up as he went
along.

“Jay, I think it’s a celebrity. Wait, I know her. It’s Emmy Harper,” Nell squealed.
“What do you think she’s doing here? Oh my Lord, how does my hair look?” She patted
the white curls above her ears.

How in the hell did she find him? Evan scanned the porch. Emmy hadn’t spotted him.
If he ran out of the back, he could probably avoid her. But then what? Was he going
to keep running? Keep pretending that he wasn’t a star? Pretend that if he went anywhere
else on the planet he wouldn’t be besieged by fans?

He inhaled sharply and did the only thing he could do—meet Emmy head on.

He pulled on the glass door, inviting a blast of hot air into the store.