One Summer in Nashville Read online

  Also by Mandy Baggot

  One Last Greek Summer

  One Christmas Star

  One Night on Ice

  ONE SUMMER IN NASHVILLE

  Mandy Baggot

  AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS

  www.ariafiction.com

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Mandy Baggot, 2020

  The moral right of Mandy Baggot to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781789546309

  Aria

  c/o Head of Zeus

  First Floor East

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  www.ariafiction.com

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  Copyright

  Playlist for Made in Nashville: Songs to complement Honor and Jared’s story

  Prologue: 2004

  Chapter 1: 2014

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Become an Aria Addict

  Playlist for Made in Nashville

  Songs to complement Honor and Jared’s story

  Kick it in the Sticks – Brantley Gilbert

  Your Side of the Bed – Little Big Town

  Love Like Mine – Hayden Panettiere

  Stars Tonight – Lady Antebellum

  Highway Don’t Care – Tim McGraw (feat. Taylor Swift)

  Pickin’ Wildflowers – Keith Anderson

  Homegrown – Lynyrd Skynyrd

  Goodbye Joe – Mandy Baggot

  Done – The Band Perry

  Runnin’ Outta Moonlight – Randy Houser

  Outta My Head – Craig Campbell

  No Easy Way – Logan Mize

  Sin Wagon – The Dixie Chicks

  Bonfire – Craig Morgan

  Beat This Summer – Brad Paisley

  Fall Into Me – Emerson Drive

  It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere – Alan Jackson

  American Beautiful – The Henningsens

  Leave the Pieces – The Wreckers

  Who I am – Jessica Andrews

  Guitar Slinger – Vince Gill

  Every Storm (Runs Out of Rain) – Gary Allan

  Crash My Party – Luke Bryan

  Since You Left – Millers Daughter

  Trapped by Love – Mandy Baggot

  Redneck Crazy – Tyler Farr

  Can’t Shake You – Gloriana

  Carolina – Parmalee

  Used Up – Logan Mize

  What Matters Most – Raintown

  Hard to Love – Lee Brice

  Somewhere With You – Kenny Chesney

  A.M. – Chris Young

  Gasoline and Matches – LeAnn Rimes

  Days of Gold – Jake Owen

  What Hurts The Most – Rascal Flatts

  Goodbye in Her Eyes – Zac Brown Band

  Prologue

  2004

  The lights were so bright, brighter than the strongest spotlight Honor had ever stood under. They were coming from all directions. Right. Left. Overhead. The crowd were roaring, clapping, stamping their feet, dancing. They moved like a sea, swaying, bobbing, rising up and falling back in time to the music. This was what she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl. Her place was here. She was born to perform, granted a gift from God in the form of a voice that seemed to know no boundaries. There wasn’t a note she couldn’t reach and in six months she had gone from supporting artist to headliner. At just eighteen she had everything she’d ever wanted.

  She felt every note, every punch of the drumbeat, every chord of the guitar, every thump of the bass. When she sang she was lost. Caught up in that one moment of time where her vocals could reach people, where her lyrics could teach people, preach, about love and loss, the family she’d never had and everything she’d experienced at such a tender age.

  She held that top C with every ounce of hurt, rejection and determination. It came from her gut. It was a statement. She was almost out of breath when she heard the sound of breaking glass. There wasn’t time to move. There wasn’t even time to scream.

  1

  2014

  ‘Taylor Swift?’

  ‘I’m looking for a supporting artist not a girlfriend.’

  ‘You’re too old for her.’

  ‘Are you saying my life’s over at twenty-seven? Man!’

  ‘Mark Warren?’

  ‘Are you kiddin’ me?’

  ‘Jared, if we discounted every artist you’d ever had a bar brawl with we’d be down to two hands.’

  ‘Two hands? You do remember there are four fingers on each hand, right? Anyway he deserved it. He was hustlin’ a waitress and you know how I stand with that. You don’t put your hands on a woman unless she asks you to.’

  ‘How about LeAnn Rimes?’

  ‘Now she’s cute.’

  ‘Thought you were looking for a supporting artist not a girlfriend,’ Buzz mimicked. ‘And anyway, she’s married.’

  ‘That’s too bad.’

  Buzz let out a sigh and folded his arms across his chest. Jared hated it when he did that. The pose reminded him of a schoolteacher he’d had. All the teachers had thought he’d amount to nothing but Franklin Barratt had worn his opinion on it all over his face. He’d shown him. He’d keyed his brand-new car and framed the school geek.

  ‘Jared, you employ me to do two things. To advise you what’s right and to try and stop you making a first-class ass of yourself,’ Buzz said, holding his stance.

  ‘I take offence at that.’

  ‘Which part?’

  ‘All of it. I only employed you because I was jealous of your fro, man,’ Jared said, laughing.

  Buzz put his hands to his hair and Jared laughed louder.

  ‘Well, I tell you what. You don’t want to work with any of these great artists, then you go out and find someone. The tour organisers want fac
es and names on posters and they want them yesterday.’

  ‘Hey, man, I wasn’t meanin’ to be disrespectful but…’ Jared began.

  ‘I have to be somewhere other than here. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ Buzz got up from the diner table, collating his papers together and then placing his iPad on top.

  ‘Buzz, come on, let’s say we have another coffee and look through the list again. I might be able to do somethin’ with Vince Gill. I mean everybody loves Vince Gill. Hell, I even love Vince Gill,’ Jared said. He stood, pulled his baseball cap down a little lower over his head.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Try and stay out of trouble for twenty-four hours will you?’

  Buzz gave him one of his stern looks before buttoning his suit jacket and making for the door. Jared opened his mouth to speak but his advisor was already through the exit and heading for his car.

  ‘More coffee?’ the waitress asked, waving the pot she was holding.

  ‘Hell, why not? Thank you, ma’am,’ Jared answered. He smiled at her and sat back down.

  ‘I love your music,’ she began in a coy voice.

  ‘Really? Lookin’ so fine like that I was thinkin’ you might be a Carrie Underwood kind of a girl.’ He studied her face and waited for the blush. And there it was. Those pinked-up, heated-up cheeks he seemed to be able to magic up in women just by being polite.

  ‘Well, I… like things a little bit edgy now and then,’ she flirted.

  ‘Is that right? What’s your name, darlin’?’

  ‘Angie.’ She tapped the name badge pinned to her chest.

  ‘Well, Angie, it sure is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jed Marshall, as you probably know, and if you tell me you can sing you’re gonna get me out of a whole heap of trouble.’

  *

  Why in hell did she bother with moisturising cream when only one side of her face saw the benefit? Now, if they sold cream that made nasty zigzag-shaped scars disappear overnight she would sell her house for it. Actually she’d probably sell her house and a kidney.

  Looking in the mirror, Honor traced her fingers along the Z-shaped scar that ran from the corner of her right eye to halfway down her cheek. Ten years and twice as many operations. It was no longer red, bumpy and angry but it was there, a silver, rutted streak that made her feel ugly every minute of every day.

  ‘Are you OK in there, darlin’?’

  Larry knew she was hiding. He’d put on his J. R. Ewing voice when he’d arrived. That meant he was going to try and sweet-talk her into doing something she didn’t want to do. She wasn’t really surprised. It had been the same for the last ten years. Him trying to drive her back to the place she’d left and her backing up.

  ‘Give me a minute, Larry. Ladies don’t just zip up and go,’ she called back.

  Damn him for turning up. He hadn’t even had the courtesy to call her first. He’d just turned up at the door and expected her to be in. She did have a life. She’d become quite the regular at Target. She even had a loyalty card. And there was her job at the music shop. The job that had saved her in so many ways.

  She smiled into the mirror, widened her cheeks, trying to make them both do the same thing. Symmetry was such a pain in the ass. She ran her fingers through her long, dark curls and settled her hair on her shoulders, pulling the right section forward to hide the scar.

  ‘No, Larry. I don’t want to.’ She sighed. ‘We’ve talked about this before, Larry, and the answer is no.’ Was that determined enough?

  Taking a deep breath she fixed a smile on her face, put her hand on the door and opened it.

  ‘Shall I make us some tea?’ she greeted, striding into the kitchen.

  ‘Sure, darlin’. I have to say you’re looking really wonderful today. Better,’ Larry announced.

  He’d taken his Stetson off and was perched up on one of the stools at the central island. She knew when the hat came off he was disarming himself. It was like putting a pistol back in the holster. It was supposed to subliminally say ‘there’s nothing to be afraid of’. Except she knew him. Knew how he worked. If the hat was off he meant business.

  ‘Whatever it is, I’m not doing it,’ she stated, turning to face him.

  Where had that authority come from? Usually she had a hard time doing anything but mumbling when Larry put another job proposition to her. It was often an hour of politely trying to say no in ten different ways.

  ‘Now, Honor, you don’t even know what I’m going to say,’ he responded. He reached for his hat and put it back on his head. Hat back on. Gloves were off.

  ‘I do know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say the same thing you’ve been saying to me for ten years, only you’re going to try and word it different. Honor, this isn’t about you, this about your fans. Honor, you can’t let what that man did ruin your life. I’ve heard it all before and more. I’ve had ten years of hearing it and the answer’s still no. I’m not getting up on stage again… ever.’

  She’d fired the words out of her mouth with no consideration for breathing. It left her gasping for air and feeling faint. She clung on to the worktop, trying to keep the impression she was in control. Epic fail.

  ‘The record company wants to bring out a greatest hits album,’ Larry stated flatly.

  What? What had he said? A greatest hits album?

  ‘Now, it doesn’t have to be one of these twenty-track super-deluxe albums with a free poster or a link to a secret fan message. We have your two great albums plus the best of the live recordings. But I thought we’d take the opportunity to pitch them something new. Get you back in the studio; get you back in the saddle. The fans will love the new stuff, they’ll beg for more and before you know it you’re out promoting a brand-new record,’ Larry informed her.

  A greatest hits album. The words sent shockwaves right through her. She was twenty-eight. She stopped performing ten years ago and had done nothing since. Her life in country music spanned two short years and Micro wanted to release a greatest hits album. It was official. She was done.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she answered, no conviction in her tone.

  ‘Honor, I’m going to give it to you straight. Micro even talking about releasing something of yours is little short of a miracle. A greatest hits album is one hell of a compliment when you’ve not sung for ten years.’

  The serious voice. The voice that contained his true feelings. The tone that said: Honor, we all feel sorry for what you’ve been through but it’s gone on too long. Understanding had started to wear thin a good while ago.

  ‘I don’t have to live in this big house. Only this morning I was thinking about selling it. Downsizing,’ she replied, nodding.

  ‘Honor, no one is asking you to go on stage right now. I’m just asking you to get back in the studio. Make your beautiful music again, just a couple of tracks. You don’t even have to write them. I could see what’s out there,’ Larry said, his brown eyes pleading with her.

  ‘I don’t need the money.’

  ‘You think that’s what this is about?’

  ‘I don’t know what this is about. If Micro wants to release a greatest hits album I say we let them. They don’t need new material and I have nothing to offer them,’ she said.

  The sentence pulled at her heart. She did have new songs. There were scores of them. She wrote alone, sang to the walls and locked the paper up in a drawer. How had this happened? Country music had been her life. At one time it had been the only thing she had. Because of one brutal act one night, her life course had been altered entirely. There was no going back and there was no going forward either. Here she was. This was it. A retired country music star who would never make it into another karaoke bar let alone the Hall of Fame.

  ‘Honey, will you think about it? Just a couple of tracks?’ Larry asked.

  ‘Are you still on that weird sugar-free diet, because I don’t think I have any sweeteners,’ she answered.

  2

  ‘… and that was Hunter Hayes with “You Think You Know Someb
ody”. So, right now on Countrified 103 I’m truly excited to welcome into the studio, CMA-award-nominated country rock sensation… Mr. Jed Marshall.’

  ‘Hey,’ he spoke into the microphone. His host, Davey Duncan, had stuffed a foot-long Sub into his mouth seconds before they went on air and there was chilli sauce still drizzling down his chin. Jared hated interviews and was easily distracted. Cue a wave from Buzz who sat on the other side of the glass.

  ‘CMA award nominee last year. How did that feel? Was it the realisation of a dream?’

  ‘It felt awesome, man. I mean I just feel so blessed to have people supportin’ me and my style of music. And I know it ain’t for everybody, but I just feel lucky that right now it seems to be for the majority. There’s strength in them numbers.’

  ‘There sure is. Now we’ve heard here at Countrified 103 that you’re soon going to head out on the road. It’s your first headlining tour. Tell us all about it, Jed.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Well, we’re at the plannin’ stages right now but I can tell you that I’m gonna be all over the country. We’re aimin’ to visit over forty states so watch out for some rebel country comin’ to you real soon.’

  ‘I know our listeners love that rebel country. So, tell me, how much of that is the real Jed Marshall?’

  Jared adjusted his baseball cap and saw Buzz rise out of his chair. He felt it stir inside him before Davey had finished the end of the sentence. His belly had become a pit of molten lava, heating up from zero to boiling point in seconds. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand the question.’ He said the words through gritted teeth. He understood all right. He just wanted clarification. He needed to know Davey Duncan was committed to the track he’d gone down. This was his last chance to back out. His only chance.

  ‘Well, you’re giving country music fans something different, something harder and rockier – an edgy sound. Some people have questioned the authenticity of that so, tell us, how much of that is the real you?’ Davey asked him.

  He made fists with his hands, the silver rings tightening below his knuckles. Bad move.