Truman’s mouth dropped open and from the corner of his eye, he noticed that Shauna did the same, but then composed herself.
“If this is my studio, why does it feel like I’m not running it?”
“Have you ever run a music studio before?” Craig cocked his head as he regarded her.
“Have you?” She responded with the same look back at him.
“Are you kidding me with this?” Truman shook his head.
Maybe Sully had been right. Maybe Truman should ask them to tear up the contract and he should walk away.
“Unlike you, Shauna, I know how to manage talent. Until you get to that level, I’m going to be here to guide you.” Craig flashed a grin. “And I have a surprise.”
Truman didn’t want or need any more surprises.
“We need to have the album done and a Shauna-produced song of yours on the air in a month.” Craig volleyed his attention from Truman to Shauna.
Truman breathed a sigh of relief, afraid Craig’s next request would be something outrageous like a duet or something. “That’s something I can agree on.” Truman put his hand to his chest. “All I want to do is sing and perform. Getting the album out there fast is fine with me. Doesn’t leave us much time for promotions, but we’ll do all we can.”
“And one more thing.” Craig made his way around to the other side of his desk, out of striking distance. “I want a duet on the album.”
Truman’s heart pounded. He still had a chance to control this. “Okay. There’s a country artist I’ve been dying to work with.”
“No.” Craig pointed to Shauna. “You and Shauna.”
The bottom of Truman’s stomach felt like it fell to the floor along with his chin. He and his band had sung songs about staying away from women like Shauna, flashy women with no substance, heart, or morals. How could he go back to his band, his friends since childhood, and admit to them that he’d made a deal with the devil?
“Excuse me.” Shauna leaped from her seat and ran from the office.
Truman felt an immediate pang in his stomach. Did Shauna get sick from the idea of singing with him? Was there anything about Truman that didn’t make the woman ill?
Craig nodded and pointed in the direction where Shauna ran. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine on recording day.”
Chapter 4
Even at two in the morning, Truman had found his Utopia. At the end of a long winding road, he drove the group’s trusty van to the white stucco building. Bright lights spotlighted the place where he and the guys would be recording their first album. Not a bad place to be. He hoped his voice wouldn’t fail him.
He turned up the country radio station when the sounds of the creaking shocks and clanging brakes threatened to overpower the music.
A white Mercedes sat in front of the glass and chrome front door of the studio. Truman pulled the van behind the luxury car.
“Don’t get too close to that.” Like normal, a pinch of worry laced Tony’s voice. “You don’t want to be paying out our first paycheck if it gets a scratch.”
“I thought Shauna was dead broke.” Ervin poked his head between Truman and Sully from the backseat. “That’s what I read online.”
“You know how rich folks are.” Truman cut off the van and waited for it to stop its shimmying before he finished speaking. “They aren’t rich because they don’t know how to hide their money.”
Truman figured that Shauna’s down-home look the first time he saw her had to have been an act. He’d read all about these stars in their five hundred-dollar T-shirts and thousand-dollar jeans. He knew her whole outfit the day before had to have been worth more than the band’s van.
Truman hopped out of the van and slammed the door. “Let’s unload.”
“You’d think they would have people doing that for us.” Charlie stretched out his back.
“Even if they did, we’re still hauling our own gear.” Truman picked up his guitar case and grabbed a part of Ervin’s drum set. “We didn’t get to this point by being pampered. Work hard. Stay that way.”
As Truman led his group down a long narrow hallway, he noticed the framed gold, platinum, and diamond records on the walls, most were Shauna’s. She’d reached diamond status. Ten million records sold. He brushed against the frame secretly hoping that some of her luck, her magic, would follow the group. When Truman reached the studio door, he took a deep breath before opening it.
“Let’s make it good, gentlemen.” He pulled the door open. The subtle scent of cigarette smoke, and other not-so-legal types of smoke, as well as warm candle wax and fresh paint swarmed around his face.
In the dimly lit control room, he found Shauna sitting at the colorful boards. She looked different from when he’d first seen her. She didn’t have on that ridiculous hat. Her hair had been taken out of the braids and pulled back into a ponytail that cascaded down her back like a horse’s mane.
He half expected her to be in a business suit or worse, in one of her trademark sequined gowns. With her foot sitting on the chair, her knee to her chest, she looked more like an intern. God help them.
Then Shauna turned around. Her wide eyes held a mixture of hope, sorrow, and maybe a flash of anticipation. He hoped.
He couldn’t stop staring at her. The closer he got to her, the more entranced he became. His stare went from her soft gaze down to her cute nose and her luscious mouth. Shauna placed her hands with long, delicate fingers on her lap, and looked so elegant and sexy. She pulled him into her, seducing him without saying a word, singing a note, or even a smile…until Sully’s nudge broke the stare.
Shauna stood. Her T-shirt hung right above her navel. He couldn’t stop staring at her flat stomach and her dipped-in waist that topped her flared hips. Truman strained to bring his gaze back up to hers and control his rapid heartbeat. He had to show her he meant business even if his body begged for him to be sinful.
“You want to introduce me to your band?” Shauna took a step closer to Truman and his friends, but maintained a safe distance.
“What?” Truman seemed shocked that Shauna spoke.
Her melodic tone lulled him to a weakened state that he would have given up a kidney if she asked. This woman had no idea of her inherent power.
Ervin pushed past Truman and Sully. “Hi. I’m Ervin Willis. Drummer.”
Truman watched Shauna connect hands with Ervin. A strange flash of red colored his vision and his stomach knotted. Truman caught the subtle way Ervin smiled at her and how his friend pulsed his hand twice when he held hers. He’d been friends with Ervin long enough to know what that meant.
“This is Tony Waters.” Truman pulled his short friend forward and pushed Ervin back. “He plays the fiddle.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Tony presented a wide grin.
As though he wanted to skip the rough treatment, Charlie offered his hand to Shauna. “Charlie Vaughan. Bass. How are you doing?”
She nodded and smiled politely as she shook his hand.
Charlie’s mouth hung open. “Your skin is so soft.” He slid his free hand over hers. “Do you have kids?”
Truman pulled Charlie’s hands from Shauna’s. “We should get started.”
He cleared his throat, adjusted