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Authors: Wynonna Judd

Restless Heart (24 page)

BOOK: Restless Heart
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“I hope I don’t say anything stupid,” she told Grace, who was hovering again over a long table laden with snacks and coffee service.
“Read over the questions again,” Grace advised, pointing at the sheet of paper the producers had handed Destiny earlier.
“I’ve read them over about thirty times now,” Destiny answered with a sigh. “About the same number of times you’ve picked up that doggone doughnut. Eat it or leave it alone.”
Dropping the glazed doughnut back into the box, Grace retorted, “I happen to think that picking it up thirty times and not eating it shows that I have a tremendous amount of willpower.”
“Really? I think it shows that you’re nuts.”
“I’ll eat one if you do,” Grace challenged.
Destiny groaned. “Are you kidding? My stomach is doing flip-flops as it is. One bite of something sticky-sweet and I’ll be sick. I’m a nervous wreck.”
“You’ll do fine.” Grace reached over and put a hand on Destiny’s thigh. “You’ve done dozens of interviews over the past couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, on the radio and most were taped. Grace, this is
live
television. Oh, why did I agree to do this?” She put a hand to her throat. “And why do I suddenly sound like Olive Oyl?”
Grace laughed. “You don’t.”
“I don’t?” Destiny squeaked.
“Well, maybe a little.”
Destiny paced, wishing she could at least call Seth for some extra reassurance. But cell phones weren’t allowed in the green room, for some reason. She supposed they didn’t want the guests getting distracted before their appearances.
I wouldn’t be distracted. I’d be much more relaxed if I could just hear Seth’s voice.
“Sit down, Destiny,” Grace told her. “You’re making me nervous.”
She plopped on a couch and looked down at her black jeans and vest. “Am I too casual? Do I look like Johnny Cash? Not that I don’t love him, but . . .”
“No, this look is part of your updated brand, remember?”
“Right. Country chic. Successful but approachable.”
Grace nodded. She’d been working with the creative team on branding, going for a cross between Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood.
“Anyway, the silver cuff bracelet and high-heeled sandals give you some sexy flair.”
“You think?”
“I know. Just do what Miranda Shepherd told you to do. Relax and be yourself.”
“Be
myself
? Sexy flair is not
myself
.
Myself
is . . . I don’t even know what myself is anymore!”
“You’re panicking. Close your eyes and breathe.”
Destiny tried. “Please don’t say anything stupid,” she told herself and fisted one hand to her forehead. “Or what if I laugh? You know how I giggle at inappropriate times when I get rattled?”
“When do you do that?”
“Remember at that potluck church dinner when Aunt Ada sat down in that folding chair and it collapsed? She quit giving me Christmas presents after that.”
“Aunt Ada gave everybody homemade potholders that fell apart and Ronnie Lee’s chair is not going to collapse and that was years ago so calm down because you really are making
me
nervous, and when
I’m
nervous,
I
eat.”
She grabbed the doughnut again, and took a huge bite.
A young woman with a bright smile and a clipboard breezed into the room. “Five minutes,” she announced. “Follow me, Ms. Hart.”
Destiny turned, wide-eyed, to Grace.
“Break a leg,” Grace said around a mouthful of doughnut.
“I don’t think it’s the right time to say that,” Destiny answered as she stood up. Her knees felt as if they were made of jelly. Great, she was going to walk like Olive Oyl too.
“Well, good luck, then.”
“Thanks.” Destiny willed her knees not to knock as she followed the perky intern down the hallway.
Photos of famous country stars lined the walls and Destiny experienced a familiar surreal feeling.
Was this really
her
life?
Most days were such a flurry of activity that it had yet to sink in. She’d been pinching herself ever since she’d arrived in Pigeon Forge on the day after Thanksgiving to begin rehearsing for the Christmas show, which opened tonight.
“This way, Ms. Hart,” the intern said and held open the door to the studio. “Have a seat on the sofa. We’re on an extended commercial break, but we need to get you situated.”
Destiny nodded and thought that the studio appeared much smaller than on television. Two cameras seemed almost hidden in the background, but the set was brightly lit and on a raised platform.
Ronnie Lee also seemed smaller in real life. He sat studying his notes in a wingback chair that thankfully looked very sturdy and in no danger of collapsing.
The intern made a quick introduction and he glanced up with a brief but friendly smile as Destiny sat down on the green velvet sofa. A small coffee table with a silk flower arrangement and a potted plant to the left was the extent of the surprisingly simple set. The lights felt hot but the air remained cool so at least she wouldn’t sweat.
“Hi. I’m Dave,” a shaggy-haired tech announced, coming up beside Destiny. “I need to attach your mike.”
“Oh . . . okay.” She tried to take it in stride as he leaned in close and told her to unbutton the top few buttons of her shirt, then fumbled around with the mike and her lapel.
“There. That should be good. Say something.”
“What?”
“Anything . . . we just need to test the sound.”
“Okay. Uh . . . testing, one, two, three,” she said, feeling a bit foolish.
“Sounds good,” a disembodied voice boomed.
“Two minutes,” a cameraman warned Ronnie, who nodded and put his notes off to the side.
He smiled over at Destiny and leaned in to shake her hand. “Welcome to
Country Music News
. Are you nervous?”
“A little. Well, maybe a lot,” she found herself admitting, and he grinned.
“Just relax and have some fun. I promise this will be painless. Don’t look at the cameras or worry about them or the mike. Just focus on me and we’ll have a conversation like we’re old friends.”
Destiny and Ronnie Lee, old friends. Yeah, right.
“If you draw a blank,” he added, “I’ll get you past it.”
“Do I look that freaked out?”
Ronnie chuckled. “Yes. But let me assure you that there are lots of big stars who still get rattled doing live interviews, so you’re in good company.”
Destiny smiled with gratitude. “I wish it was just about the music—not that I don’t want to be here,” she added quickly. “It’s just . . . I’m not used to all this other stuff yet.”
“Hey, I understand.” Ronnie winked at her. “And guess what? In the end, it really
is
all about the music. Never lose sight of that, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Destiny smoothed her shirt, rubbed her glossed lips together, and fluffed her hair. Just when her heartbeat slowed to an almost normal pace, the cameraman said, “Three, two . . . one.”
He pointed at Ronnie, who gave a toothy smile to the camera.
“Welcome back to
Country Music News
! Sitting here with me is Destiny Hart, a rising star whose upcoming single ‘Restless Heart’ will be the new theme song on CMT’s top-rated reality show.
Cowgirl Up
airs every Thursday night and the new season begins in January. Meanwhile, Destiny will perform in a holiday concert series with the legendary Tammy Turner at her new arena in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.”
Destiny could only swallow and nod. The camera to her left moved closer. She tried to ignore it, but it loomed there like some sort of science fiction robot.
“You must be incredibly thrilled.”
She nodded again. The other camera moved.
Uh-oh . . . the robots are coming to get me!
For some reason—nerves?—she found her silent observation hilarious and to her horror her lips twitched.
Oh . . . mercy.
A cold bead of sweat rolled between her shoulder blades, making her silk shirt stick to her back.
Ronnie, who had promised to save her if she drew a blank, seemed to be waiting for more of a response.
“I’ll just be opening with a few songs,” she managed to say, despite the laughter bubbling up in her throat, making her heart pound with the herculean effort not to let it out.
She took a deep breath, gripping the arm of the green velour so hard that she was sure she would leave the fingernails behind, and added, “I’m honored to share the same stage as Tammy Turner. I’ll be starstruck, that’s for sure.”
The cameras were moving.
The robots are coming . . . the robots are coming . . .
“Well, from what I hear, you’re quickly gathering fans of your very own, Destiny Hart.”
As nonchalantly as she could, Destiny curved her hand up to her left temple to block out the sight of the cameras, which looked like something out of a Disney movie.
“I read a glowing review that said you have a distinctive voice . . .” He grabbed his notes and read, “‘whiskey smooth but with a bit of a bite.’ Another review here says you have ‘depth and emotion but mass appeal, with a voice that’s a combination of classic country with a hot new edge.’ Sound right to you?”
“I, um, I suppose that’s a pretty good description. I grew up singing at barn dances and in the church choir, and I fell in love with gospel, bluegrass, and classic country. My mother said I was an old soul, but I love the new country too.” She shrugged. “What you see is pretty much what you get.”
“Well, you must be doing something right, because you’ll be releasing a CD and a music video to go along with ‘Restless Heart’s’ debut on CMT’s
Cowgirl Up
, and word has it you’ve written all the songs yourself.”
She nodded, still not used to being showered with praise and then expected to toot her own horn in response.
“Word also has it”—Ronnie Lee leaned in closer—“that you and Brody Ballard are dating.”
“
What
?” She’d met the guy—a fellow up-and-coming country musician—just once in her life: backstage after he performed at Tammy’s theater last weekend. “We barely know each other!”
“Well, you sure looked cozy holding hands in that
Nashville Gab
photo.”
Remembering that there were press photographers all over the place that night, Destiny couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Shaking hands, maybe—but definitely not holding them.”
“Is that so?” Ronnie Lee gave a knowing wink, and her amusement turned to annoyance as she thought about Seth, somewhere out there watching the interview.
She opened her mouth to further explain the situation, but it was too late.
“Destiny, I’m sure we’ll be seeing you here on
Country Music News
again very soon. Congratulations and the best of luck to you.”
“Thank you so much.”
Ronnie smiled and then turned his attention to the camera. “You can get ticket information about the Tammy Turner Christmas tour on our Web site. But don’t go away. Next up is a sneak peek of Keith Urban’s hot new video.” His smile remained frozen for a moment and then the cameraman gestured, and he turned to Destiny. “You did fine.”
“I started to freak out when I couldn’t ignore the cameras.”
And when you accused me of cheating on my boyfriend.
“I figured.” He chuckled. “But you recovered and that’s the sign of a real pro.” He stood up and shook her hand as Dave removed her mike. “Thanks for coming by, and the best of luck to you, Destiny.”
“My pleasure.” She hastily rebuttoned her shirt and made a beeline for the green room.
Grace was polishing off another doughnut—white frosted with red sprinkles.
Grace took one look at Destiny’s expression and guiltily reached for a napkin. “Don’t look at me like that. I saw the frosting and I caved.”
Destiny shook her head. “What? How can you sit there noshing on a doughnut when I almost lost it there on the show!”
“Lost it?” Grace licked icing from her thumb. “Lost what?”
“My composure! I was doing fine and then the cameras started moving around like robots, and—”
“You wanted to laugh.”
“You could tell?”
“No. I’m guessing, because I know you so well. I didn’t even notice.”
“Because you were stuffing your face with a doughnut!”
“That’s not true. I didn’t eat it until after you were finished. You know, those red sprinkles are delicious. Much better than the green ones.”
“Red is a color, not a flavor.”
“Bet I could tell in a blind taste test,” Grace argued, obviously trying to keep Destiny’s mind off the near fiasco on live television. “You should have one, too.”
“Blind taste test?”
“No, emergency snack. You’re shaking.”
“Ya think? After that interview, and what he said about me and Brody Ballard—what the heck was he talking about?”
“I don’t know, but if your name is out there in the gossip columns, Destiny, that’s a great sign.”
“What about Seth?”
“What about him? I’m sure he doesn’t read
Nashville Gab
, and even if he does, he trusts you. Don’t worry.”
“I feel sick.”
“It’s just low blood sugar, and you’d better eat something healthy.”
“Like doughnuts?”
“Actually, I was thinking that if we hurry, we can stop by Back in the Saddle and grab something to eat before we head back to Pigeon Forge. But we need to leave, like,
now
.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little out of the way?”
“It’s only a few miles.”
“Yeah, but I’m starved, and there are plenty of places right here . . .” Destiny couldn’t resist saying, fully aware that her sister had ulterior motives.
Then again, she realized, she really was suddenly famished. In this business, food, she was finding out, was rarely consumed at traditional mealtimes.
BOOK: Restless Heart
10.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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