Читать книгу The Wedding March - Tara Randel - Страница 10
ОглавлениеTHE WEDDING GUESTS standing outside the whitewashed church under a clear, blue Florida sky tossed birdseed on the happy couple as the bride and groom made their way down the sidewalk to the waiting limousine.
“I can’t believe I agreed to come to this shindig,” Cassie Branford muttered as she brushed the unflattering brown kernels from her new dress.
“It’s not a shindig. It’s a wedding.”
Cassie cast her younger sister, Lauren, a dubious glance. “A wedding I’d rather not attend.”
“Dad really wanted you here.”
“And therein lies the problem.”
Minutes later a dozen white doves were released in honor of the celebration. Cassie barely controlled an eye roll. For her father, the more pretentious the better. This event filled the bill.
“Well, at least the birds get to eat.” Cassie chuckled at her own humor as she viewed the ground covered with seed.
Lauren merely shook her head, obviously not amused, and walked ahead of her to the car.
The ceremony had been celebrated at the Methodist church off Main Street. Very elegant, very subdued. You’d think the couple were getting hitched for the first time instead of second marriages for both. Still, Angelica wanted a production and Cassie’s father indulged her. It was easy to do when his new wife’s family money covered the bill.
“The doves were a nice touch,” Lauren said minutes later, as she navigated the charming streets of Cypress Pointe en route to the reception.
“Nice? How about unnecessary?”
“When did you become such a downer?”
“I don’t know. When I was commanded, not asked, to come to the wedding?”
“Cassie, we haven’t seen you in a while.”
“True, but at least I talk to you and Mom regularly. Dad? Never. So his summons kind of turned me off.”
Lauren pulled into a space in the country club parking lot. “It’s his day. Be nice.”
It was always Robert Branford’s day, but Cassie got the gist. As they entered the event room, Cassie stopped short. “Really?”
The mood had changed from tasteful to over-the-top. Flanked on either side of the banquet room doors, medieval garbed trumpeters announced each guest in a blast of great fanfare. Crossing the threshold, a trumpet aimed dangerously close to her head, Cassie covered her ear and took in the atmospheric mist courtesy of the dry ice machine. A sultry haze hovered over the dance floor. Hello, could anyone say danger? As she headed to her assigned table, a sudden spate of coughing seized her thanks to the fog irritating her throat. She grabbed a goblet of water from the table for a soothing sip.
Huge white calla lily centerpieces, dripping with crystal beads, took up half the space on the round dinner tables. Spotless linens with the initials A & R embroidered in silver and black thread covered the tables. Champagne glasses with silver rims waited to be filled with sparkling wine. A massive champagne waterfall took up one corner of the room, a chocolate fountain positioned in another.
Soon, a six-course dinner would be followed by dancing until dawn.
Held at the Cypress Pointe Country Club, the town elite made an appearance at the flashy reception. Dressed to the nines, everyone tried outdoing each other. Cassie had let her soon-to-be stepmother talk her into a short emerald-colored dress with a sheer lace covering and high silver pumps. She’d have been happier in a casual dress and sandals instead of shoes that pinched, but Angelica would have fainted on the spot. Even Cassie’s hair bothered her. She reached up to touch the elaborate style.
“Quit fussing,” Lauren hissed, smoothing the skirt of her navy dress.
“I feel like a mannequin in the department store. No one wears their hair like this. And don’t get me started on the time spent at the salon. Three hours? On hair?”
“It’s better than your usual braid.”
“Hey. I like my braid. It keeps the hair out of my face.”
“At least the hairdresser hid that dreadful pink streak you insist on. It’s not appropriate for a beautiful event like this wedding.”
She liked the pink streak. Or any color streak that gave her pizzazz. As a popular music artist, she’d developed her own standout look, regardless of family opinion.
“Suck-up,” Cassie muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?”
“You look lovely,” she answered.
And Lauren did. Both sisters shared a light skin tone, but their hair color differed. Cassie’s, a light sandy brown, hung long and straight, while Lauren’s, a warm ash, was cut at her shoulders, much more fashionable than Cassie’s. Lauren had acquired the conservative gene, which seemed to have skipped Cassie. And while the sisters resembled each other, that was where the similarities ended. Especially with regard to this wedding.
“Thanks. I want Dad to be proud.”
That was never going to happen, but Cassie didn’t express her opinion. How many times had she tried to earn his approval, only to be shot down? She and Lauren argued time and again over the subject of their father and never made any headway. Today wasn’t going to change the impasse.
Angelica came up behind them, her arms circling their waists, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Robert is over the moon. Both of his daughters here for the happiest day of his life.”
Cassie bit the inside of her cheek. She liked Angelica, she really did, but sometimes the older woman didn’t have a clue. Maybe it was better like that.
“Now, girls, your father would like you all in a picture together. He’s waiting by the windows.”
Normally, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the lush golf course. For the wedding festivities, however, a huge cutout fairy-tale castle obscured the idyllic view. Light emanating from the early spring evening snuck in beside the garish photo spot. Cassie sneaked a peek. Honestly, the palette of orange, purple and deep blue streaking the sky, hues only an artist could have conjured, would have been a much more appropriate backdrop for a wedding, but Angelica wanted a “fun” background for guests to take commemorative pictures. Hats, feather boas and masks were scattered on the nearby table for the guests to don in their photos, which were digitally printed out seconds later.
As Angelica stepped back, Lauren grabbed Cassie’s hand and pulled. “C’mon. We can’t keep him waiting.”
Cassie allowed herself to be tugged along. If she had her choice, she’d make an excuse not to be photographed, but Robert loved being the center of attention. Tall, his brown hair immaculately cut, his shoulders straight and steady in a custom fitted tuxedo, he was used to commanding the room. A symphony conductor, he moved audiences with his dramatic flair for interpreting musical scores, touching the hearts of listeners. Tonight, his command included the wedding guests and his daughters.
“Here we are,” Lauren said as they arrived. She hurried to loop her arm through his. Cassie hovered a few feet away.
Robert held out his other arm for Cassie. “Well?”
She shuffled to his side, begrudgingly taking his arm.
“You could look a little more excited, Cassandra,” Robert spoke from the corner of his mouth. “Even when you were a child I never could get you to smile.”
Pasting on a fake grin, Cassie returned with, “Better?”
Flashes of light blinded her as the photographer snapped pictures, but she continued to hold her smile. Before long, Angelica joined in. One big happy family.
As soon as the photographer signaled he was finished, Cassie beelined to the ladies’ room to compose herself.
Compose. Hah. Like she needed to be reminded that she should be in California writing music for her next album, not a couple thousand miles away in Florida, at a wedding she would have missed if her sister hadn’t cajoled her into coming.
“It wouldn’t matter where I am,” she said under her breath as she stood before the wide restroom mirror hanging on the wall over a bank of gleaming sinks. She was having trouble coming up with new music. To be honest, her lack of inspiration scared her. This next project would make or break her career and so far...nothing.
Keep at it, sweetheart. One day you’ll get better.
Her first pop album had been a surprise commercial success. At twenty-three, she’d made a name in the industry with her haunting melodies, her soul-stirring lyrics, her clear voice. Her writing, so pure then, had come from the depths of her soul. Critics had called her work natural and her style heartfelt. The label, thrilled by the interest in their new artist, pushed her back into the studio right away. Caught up in the whirlwind, she went along with the plan to start a second project.
But the label had wanted her to work with new producers, make her music more trendy, they told her. More dance style than ballads and songs with deep conviction, like those on her first record. This time, the music sounded nothing like she’d intended. The process was arduous. There were too many people telling her what to do and how to sound. Because she was so new at this, she went along with the voices of experience. Her manager wanted to please the label. As a result, her second album had tanked.
Could she now be a has-been at twenty-six?
The door opened, drawing Cassie from her morose thoughts. She nodded to a woman dressed in a designer gown, saturated in a cloying floral perfume. Cassie patted her hair again, at a loss as to what else to do. She couldn’t play with her braid since her hair was all curled up around her head and she’d left her clutch at the table so she didn’t have any gloss to touch up her lips with. With a sigh, she stood, staring at her image.
Was she a two-record wonder?
Would her next project be a disaster, too? She knew she should stop thinking like a failure before she even got started, but after the release and disappointment of album number two, she’d lost her mojo. The critics demanded to know what happened to the genuine songstress they’d admired so much, and to be honest, so did Cassie. She’d disliked the music of her sophomore effort. She wanted, no, needed, to get back to basics. She was tired of second-guessing her talent. Fearful of failing again. She hadn’t told a soul, but all the stress had produced a serious case of writer’s block.
She couldn’t write a thing.
And she had to be back in the studio in less than three months.
Keep at it, sweetheart. One day you’ll get better.
The woman came to the sink, eyeing Cassie.
“You’re Robert’s daughter. The musical one.”
She nearly laughed out loud. Right now, she could debate that claim. “That’s me.”
“We’re thrilled to have a man of your father’s prestige as part of our community.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
The woman sent a startled glance at Cassie, not sure what to make of her reply.
“See you on the dance floor,” Cassie said, returning to her assigned table, more than ready to eat dinner and make her escape.
Across the room, a string quartet and a harpist played soft background music. Before the meal began, Angelica stood, a sparkling tiara nestled in her platinum blond hair pulled back in a tight chignon, her makeup flawless, her white dress covered with glittering seed pearls. She tapped her champagne flute with a spoon and smiled as silence descended upon the room.
“Thank you so much, my dear family and friends, for joining Robert and me on our special day. I am so pleased that Robert’s daughters, Cassandra and Lauren, are here to share our happiness.”
Cassie ground her back teeth together. Cassie. My name is Cassie.
“I’ve asked Lauren to make a toast.” She waved her new stepdaughter to her side. “And Cassandra? Please, join us.”
Cassie took her glass and walked over to her new stepmother. Just as Lauren was about to speak, Robert rose and worked his way to her side. He nodded and Lauren began.
“I’ve been so excited for this day to come. Angelica is such a warm and loving woman, just the right person to make my father happy. My sister and I—” she looked over at Cassie. Cassie held up her glass “—are honored to have been raised by such a wonderful father. We thank him for all he’s given us and look forward to what the future brings in his marriage and our lives together.” She lifted her glass. “To Robert and Angelica.”
“To Robert and Angelica,” echoed the guests.
As everyone took their seats, the steady hum of conversation filled the room as dinner was served. Classical music started up again, a quiet backdrop to the festivities.
Cassie leaned into her sister. “Laying it on a bit thick, sis?”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “I meant every word.”
“Really? The part about Dad—”
Lauren cleared her throat.
“—excuse me, Father, raising us? Please, he was never home and then after the split, he couldn’t get away from Mom and us fast enough.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” Lauren straightened her shoulders and looked away from Cassie.
“Oh, really? Did he make it to your first soccer game?”
“No.”
“Your high school graduation?”
“No.”
“College?”
Silence.
“The day you were honored at work as the first woman in your firm to receive the outstanding employee award?”
Lauren pressed her lips together.
“Yeah. Me, neither. Not my musical recitals or band performances.”
Her sister glared at her. “Just because he missed a few milestones doesn’t make him a bad father. He’s here now.”
A few? Cassie had a list. “Yes, but for how long?”
“Just because you were stubborn and didn’t make contact with him after your first album doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
“Oh, he cares. As long as it benefits him.”
Cassie hadn’t heard from her father for years until her first album became popular. He called, texted, enlisted Lauren to try to make Cassie return his attempts to reach her. Why, when he didn’t have time for her before she gained popularity, would she reconnect with him now? Her loyalty remained with the mother who’d raised Cassie and her sister after he left, working two jobs and keeping a loving, stable home for her daughters.
“Let’s not argue,” Lauren said, reaching out to take her hand. “Not today.”
With a sigh, Cassie took her sister’s hand in hers. She loved Lauren dearly. Just because her sister was blinded by their father’s charm didn’t mean Cassie wanted them to fight. “I agree.” She might not want to be here, but was glad for some bonding time with Lauren while she was in Cypress Pointe.
The main dish of roasted chicken, grilled vegetables and risotto was superb, but after a few bites, and the nausea that followed, Cassie picked at her food. Her stomach was twisted in a perpetual knot lately, making it hard to keep anything down. If she didn’t get over this writer’s block soon, she’d be physically sick as well as out of a career.
The guest sitting next to her left his seat and within seconds her father took his place. She tried not to stiffen, but too many years of bad blood couldn’t be denied.
“Nice reception, Dad.”
A shadow passed over her father’s eyes. “Thank you. I’m glad you could make it, Cassandra.”
“Why can’t you call me Cassie like everyone else?”
“It’s your given name.”
She stretched her neck back and forth, working out the tension.
An awkward moment passed.
“How is work on the new album going?” he asked.
“We’re in the early stages so I’ve mostly been thinking about the project.”
She spoke the truth. Coming up with songs was all she thought about.
“You should make significant changes this time. The sound on your last album wasn’t exactly you.”
She met his gaze, a forest green, as similarly striking as her own. “I’m aware, so yes, I’m going to make changes.”
He nodded, pleased his sage words brought some clarity to her decision-making. Even when she was a kid he was always critical, whether it was her piano form or music style.
“Perhaps I can have a small musical part on your next release. I have been known to play the piano quite well.”
She blinked. “Come again?”
“It would be fun. Father and daughter making music together. Remember when you were young and I taught you to play the keyboard? It can be that way again.”
Fun? Cassie shivered as a memory unfolded in her mind. She was ten, waiting for one of her father’s infrequent trips home.
“Daddy. You’re home. I did it! I wrote a song.”
Robert dropped his suitcase as Cassie grabbed his hand, dragging him to the piano.
“I did it, just like you said.”
“Can’t this wait, Cassandra?” Impatience tinged his tone. “I just walked in the door.”
“Please. Just listen.”
He sighed. “Very well.”
Cassie jumped on the piano stool, made room for him beside her and began to play, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sang about flowers and puppies and summertime. When the song came to an end, she waited for his critique, her heart pounding. “Well?”
“Keep at it, sweetheart. One day you’ll get better.”
Then he rose from the bench and walked away.
Was he serious? She searched his expression but he seemed sincere. Like years of estrangement didn’t matter and they could become buddies overnight?
“To be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Let me know. I’m always willing to share my talent with those who need it.”
Those who need it? How about to get his name in the limelight? That sounded more plausible.
She couldn’t continue this conversation. Taking her napkin from her lap, she folded it and set it beside her plate. “Please excuse me. I have to go...somewhere.”
Robert rose and pulled back her chair. “Of course. Save a dance for me.”
With a nod she took hold of her beaded clutch bag and skirted the table, not sure which direction to head. The string quartet moved off the stage to pack up while another band set up for the reception entertainment. Too bad. She’d enjoyed the chamber music.
Work that sound into a song.
She stopped short. Could it be? Her muse finally making an appearance? But just as quickly as the thought flickered through her mind, it vanished.
She stood still near the slightly raised platform set aside for the band, her mind in turmoil. Hot tears burned her eyelids. Not now. Not here.
With clumsy fingers, she opened her clutch, searching for a tissue. Dabbing her eyes, she slowly steadied her breath. A masculine voice sounded beside her.
“Are you okay?”
Hoping her mascara hadn’t run, she turned to find a man with shaggy dark blond hair smiling at her. Dressed in black slacks and a white button-down shirt, his chocolate-brown eyes held a hint of concern. Flustered, she couldn’t find her words.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, but you looked upset.”
She waved her hand. “It’s nothing. You know, weddings.”
His brow rose.
“The emotion and all.”
“Right.”
“It’s my dad’s special day.”
“Congratulations.” He paused, then his gaze moved to the platform and back. “I need to get to work.”
“Work?”
“Wedding band.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“No problem. Enjoy the rest of the reception.”
“Thanks,” she said as he moved away. Was it her imagination or did he look familiar? She hadn’t been back to town in years, not since her mother and stepfather settled in Cypress Pointe her freshman year of high school. Did she know him from school?
With athletic ease, the man leaped onto the platform, then removed his guitar from a case. He set the instrument in a stand by his feet before moving the case behind the curtain backdrop along the wall. When he finally lifted the strap over his head and plugged in his guitar, it hit her.
Luke Hastings. Only one of the best songwriters in the music industry. A four-time Grammy winner. A man who’d churned out hits before retiring to parts unknown at the height of his career. He’d been in Cypress Pointe all this time?
She’d seen pictures of him in tabloids and magazines, but never paid attention to his handsome features. In person, he made her breath hitch. Which surprised her more? That he lived in her old hometown or that she’d never noticed how good-looking he was? Both, actually. She’d worked with plenty of guys in LA, yet not one made her head turn like Luke did.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” her sister asked as she came up beside her.
“Do you know who he is?” She covertly pointed at Luke.
“Yeah. Luke. He’s a teacher at C.P. High.”
Cassie twirled on her sister. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About a teacher? Why would you care?”
“Because he’s Luke Hastings.”
Her sister still looked confused. “So?”
“So. So? He’s only a genius songwriter.”
Lauren looked up at the stage, head tilted. “Huh.”
“Huh. That’s all, just huh?”
“Cassie, I work in finance. I don’t know songwriters. That’s your area.”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder, her heart thumping double time. “He’s only a hero of mine. I started writing music after I heard ‘Won’t You Love Me Always.’”
“I remember that song. You used to drive me crazy singing it nonstop.”
She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “He wrote the lyrics.”
Lauren shrugged. “So goody. You get to meet your idol.”
Cassie went blank. “Meet him?”
“Well, yeah. He’s here. You’re here. Go introduce yourself.”
Did she dare? He’d left the business for a reason. Besides, he was working. Maybe he didn’t want her fawning all over him.
“I... He...”
“You’d better come up with better lyrics than that,” her sister advised as she swooshed off across the room.
Cassie slowly turned. Made her way to the wall where she slumped against it while the wheels turned in her mind. Luke Hastings, a man she’d admired for his song-crafting ability, in the same room as she. Did she dare introduce herself? What did she have to lose?
* * *
LUKE HASTINGS LOOKED up from a quick tuning to find the pretty woman he’d spoken to leaning against the wall. She stared at him, as if she’d seen a ghost.
He might as well be, at least in the music industry. He’d walked away from a lucrative career, turned his back on the one thing he loved most in his life, writing music. Sought refuge in this small town after a public divorce cut his heart and soul to shreds. Yeah, he was a ghost and intended on keeping it that way.
“Luke, did you bring the extra music in case we get requests?” his buddy Ryan asked from his position behind the keyboard.
The band had practiced the bride and groom’s preselected songs, which Luke could play with his eyes closed, but they always kept backup for the odd song a reception guest requested. Luke set his Mac computer on the stand beside him and booted it up. After a few clicks, the music program opened and the band synced together.
“Got it.” Luke glanced over at the drums. “Where’s Sonny?”
Ryan scanned the room then smiled. “Hitting on one of the guests.”
Luke chuckled. “He does know we’re starting in five?”
“Yeah.” Ryan waved. “Here he comes.”
Sonny jumped onto the stage and held up his cell, a goofy grin stretching his lips. “I got her number.”
Brian, the bass player, slapped him on the back. “Great. You can call her when we’re finished.”
“Dude, you’re killing me.”
Luke nodded to the empty seat behind the drums. “You have a job to do.”
Sonny stepped over the amp chords and picked up his sticks.
Luke loved his buddies like brothers, but sometimes he had to rein them in. Sonny constantly looked for a girlfriend, Ryan constantly worried over money since he’d recently become a new dad, and Brian, well, if he were any more laid-back, he’d be asleep. Luke was the glue that held this small wedding band, Sandy Palms, together.
“Hey, who’s the cutie you were talking to?” Sonny asked Luke. “Maybe I can get her number, too.”
“Daughter of the groom.”
“She got a name?”
“Yeah. Sit your butt down and play.”
Sonny frowned. “That’s not a very nice name.”
Luke shook his head. “Please, sit. We’re about to start.”
Sonny took his place and before long, the group started the first song of the set. A few people made their way to the dance floor. Others mingled or finished their meal. After the second song, Luke spoke into the microphone.
“Welcome, everyone, to the wedding reception of the newly married Robert and Angelica Branford. Let’s give them a big round of applause as they have their first dance as a married couple.”
The smiling couple came forward, dancing to a special song picked out by the bride. Since the couple were the parents, the next dance included the daughters. Luke watched the woman he’d spoken to skirt around her father to dance with the bride, not missing the frown on her father’s face at her evasive move. Soon, though, Luke’s attention shifted back to the song. Before long others filled the dance floor. They played five more songs, then took a break.
“I’m off,” Sonny said, jumping from the stage, in search of Miss Right.
Ryan pulled his cell from his pocket. “I need to call Julie. Check on the baby.”
Brian shrugged. “Guess I’ll get a drink.”
As his band members dispersed, Luke unplugged his guitar. He normally didn’t mingle when they played a gig. Most folks in town had heard his history, but for the most part they knew him as a local teacher and left him alone, which suited him fine. He’d put together the band as a musical outlet and as a way for him and his buddies to earn extra cash.
“Excuse me?”
He glanced over to find the daughter of the groom looking up at him, noticing first her striking green eyes, made a deeper shade by the emerald dress she wore, then the indecision written all over her features. “Can I help you?”
“I think so. I hope so, anyway.” She bit her lower lip, then said, “You’re Luke Hastings.”
Great. He knew by her tone she recognized him as the songwriter, not the teacher. “That’s right.”
Her tentative smile spread, lighting up the deep green hue. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Here we go. “You’ve heard of Sandy Palms, have you?”
Her smile faded and she blinked. He’d thrown her off, just as he’d hoped. “Sandy Palms?”
“Our band.”
“Um, honestly, no. I’m not from around here. I mean, not any longer.”
She didn’t move and he guessed more small talk would be coming.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get ready for the next set.”
“Oh, of course.”
And of course he’d hurt her feelings. He really wanted to see the sparkle return to those amazing eyes.
“Wait.” He stepped from the platform. “Do you play?”
“Yes. I’m—”
“Let me guess. A songwriter?”
“At times.”
He chuckled. “Either you are or aren’t.”
“At this moment in time, no.”
“As opposed to other moments?”
She shrugged, the light in her eyes dimming. He tilted his head, intrigued. Then straightened. Stop, his inner voice scolded. He didn’t need a female distraction.
Still, it had been a long time since he’d been floored by a woman’s eyes.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she was saying. “I’m a fan and wanted to say hi.”
“You have me at a disadvantage.”
“I’m Cassie Branford.” After a slight hesitation, she held out her hand.
“Well, Cassie, nice meeting you.” He took her hand in his, surprised by the zing accompanying the gesture.
“No, the pleasure is all mine. I remember—”
She stopped when her father approached, losing the airiness from just a second ago. She broke the connection, leaving him bummed that he hadn’t heard more.
“Mr. Branford,” he greeted the groom. “Congratulations.”
The man barely acknowledged him, focused instead on his daughter.
“Cassandra, you aren’t thinking of joining the band for a number, are you?”
Number? What was he talking about?
“No. I was just talking to Luke.”
Mr. Branford looked Luke over, sizing him up in a less than complimentary manner.
“You do know who my daughter is?” he asked, condescension oozing from the man.
Glancing at the woman again, it struck him. With a name to go with the face, he recognized Cassie. He might not be part of the music scene anymore, but he wasn’t dead. Still, with her hair up and wearing a dress that hugged her curves, she didn’t portray the confident woman from pop magazine pictures. Her signature braid, a different color always running through it, was missing at the moment, which had thrown him off.
“Dad. Not now.”
“Well, if you’re going to play he should know. Let you take the lead.”
“Know what?” He should have been paying better attention to the vibe around him, because a sinking feeling warned him all was not right.
Cassie shifted and said, “I’m not playing with the band.”
“You should.”
Luke met her gaze. Read the discomfort there.
“So you’re a professional musician?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Cassandra is a successful popular music artist,” her father boasted. “You both have many things in common.”
Heat flushed through Luke. The protective wall he’d cultivated over the years to keep his old life locked away rose as Cassie’s uncertain smile returned. As much as he tried to maintain a low profile, people from the industry found him from time to time. Granted, Cassie was merely a guest at her father’s wedding, but old habits were hard to ignore. Better to stop this intrusion before it went any further.
“I doubt it.”
Cassie flinched at his tone. “I only wanted to ask about your ca—”
“I’m not part of the industry any longer. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
He turned on his heel and walked away. Yeah, he’d been rude, but he’d sensed where the conversation was headed and would rather tap-dance on hot coals than reminisce about the old days. He was not going to talk shop with this woman. Or any woman, for that matter. His time in the music industry was over and he intended on keeping it that way.
