Page 78 of Heartbreaker

That I can doanything.

I’ve never been the type of woman who needs a man’s help to navigate life, but the music business is a completely separate—and much more scary—entity.

Fortunately, I don’t have time to argue anymore.

“I’m sorry, guys,” I say finally. “Rico Galagos is coming over for lunch, so I have to go. We can pick this up again on Monday. Thank you.” With that, I disconnect. It feels a little bit rude but I don’t care. Rico really is on his way, he texted that he’s ten minutes out, and I’m looking forward to seeing him.

He’s someone I’ve always been able to count on, so maybe he’ll have a different perspective for me. I’d been both surprised and excited when he’d mentioned he was going to be in Nashville because this isn’t really his scene. I didn’t hesitate to invite him over for lunch, though.

“Baby girl, you look amazing!” Rico whistles as he comes through the door. He’s never been to my house in Nashville before, and we do a little tour.

“I tried to update and modernize without losing the charm,” I explain when we get to my incredibly contemporary primary bathroom.

“Look, ain’t nobody got time for avocado green appliances or ugly showers,” he says firmly. “You’ve got lots of charm while still immersing yourself in luxury.”

“That’s what I think too.”

We make our way back to the kitchen, and I start pulling out the quiche I made, along with salad, fruit, and pomegranate lemonade.

“Do you cook?” he asks, wide-eyed.

“Of course.” I cock my head. “What self-respecting Southern girl doesn’t cook?”

He grimaces. “None that I know. But I don’t know that many.”

We chuckle together.

Sitting at the island, we eat and catch up, and I tell him what happened with Farrah.

He wrinkles his nose. “She’s always been a little entitled, you know? Like her clients should be grateful for her presence in their life.”

“I’m not at all grateful. Honestly, she hasn’t done anything for me. I had someone else before the record company forced her on me. Mostly, she annoys me.”

“There’s a game to be played, though, and you could use this to your benefit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you want something next time, something that’s bigger than this pissing contest you have going with Farrah—you say, well, when I wanted Farrah gone, I towed the company line. This time, I want you to take a hit for me. Or whatever.”

He has an interesting point.

And maybe I can use that to get Royal to produce my album.

“I want you to listen to something,” I tell him excitedly, reaching for my phone. Royal and I made better recordings, but I love the ones on my phone because they’re both intimate and raw, with a little bit of Royal’s grittiness. Something I’ve started to love.

I play him “Midnight Snow,” practically bouncing in my seat as I wait for his reaction.

“Damn, girlfriend.” He nods with a big smile. “That’s got the makings of a hit. Will you send me a copy? I’d love to hear it in my studio.”

I do a happy little wiggle as I scroll through my voice memos so I can send him the right recording. If Rico likes it…eek! Then it’sreallygood. “Of course.” I tap out the message, attach the file, and listen to the little whoosh as it’s sent off through cyberspace. “Done!”

“Thanks, babe.” He squeezes my hand. “I can’t wait to see where this takes you.”

“I know. Me too.” I’m probably grinning a little too much, but I can’t help it.

“Is it for the next album?”

I nod.

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