Pucker Up Read Free Page A

pulled out onto the road.
     

Chapter 2
    Faith
showed her houseguests to their rooms in the east wing, giving them time to grab
their luggage and bodyguard, and settle in before they left for lunch.  She had
some things to clean up, including any remnants of the songwriter in her
study.  Her phone buzzed against her hip, and she sighed but pulled it out
anyway.
    Jackson
had sent her another text.  She didn’t know what else she had to do for him to
understand that she didn’t want to talk.  She had the vaguest recollection of,
what she’d been babbling about when he drove her home from her birthday party,
so she had absolutely no interest in talking to him now.  Not this week.
    Leave
me alone.  I am avoiding you and you’re smart enough to know what that looks
like.  Let it go ,
she typed out with quick fingers.  The songwriting sessions had erased most,
but not all, of the traces of the bourbon and angst from that night.  She
rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the tightness she still felt.  Every
phone call just tied her up into a few more knots.  The phone in her hand
started ringing, but the frown disappeared when she saw that it wasn’t Jackson
who was calling.
    “Hey
lady – it’s ten days too early for our monthly phone call,” Faith said, her
voice alight with welcome.
    “Well,
I’ve been the old lady that I am and keep falling asleep before getting to wish
you a happy birthday,” Bea said, the humor in her voice making her sound
anything but old.
    “You
are very organized, but you always seem to call me late.”
    “This
way, if I’m late, you notice.”  That wasn’t why Bea called her late and they both
knew it.  Her voice would always do more good a few days later, when the dust
settled and she would need a friend.  “Don’t want to go unnoticed, kind of like
you are lately.”
    “What
is that supposed to mean?”  Bea always had lessons, and she was never very
subtle with them.
    “I’ve
been watching all your interviews, of course – ”
    “Of
course,” Faith chimed in.
    “And
I’ve noticed that all anyone can ask you about is Andy Peters.  Andy Peters
this, Andy Peters that.  Andy Peters is so elusive – have you met?  What are
they like?  Send us a photo.  Really, it’s rather rude, you know.”
    Faith’s
lips twitched at Bea’s annoyance on her behalf.  It was true, all anyone ever
wanted to talk about nowadays was either Andy Peters or the genius of Jackson
Shaw.  With the surprise success of her recent comeback album and the on-point
songwriting skills of Andy Peters, Magpie Entertainment was a company being
heralded for “a meteoric rise.”  Profiles of Jackson Shaw and his ability to
spot talent were cropping up everywhere.  It was a good thing he was her best
friend, or she’d probably want to punch him. 
    “I’m
a big girl.  I can handle it just as long as you don’t ask me about Andy
Peters.”  She was tired of being evasive on the Andy Peters subject, but people
were getting more curious, not less.
    “Me,
no,” Bea said.  “Way too angsty for me.  You know I like your catchy Attitunes
songs.  I still play Pucker Up when we have pie-eating contests.” 
    Faith’s
smile disappeared at that comment.  That’s what she thought, what she always
thought – too angsty, too sad.  She’d thought she’d hidden pretty well from the
Andy Peters commentary in the beginning, but it was getting harder and harder
to manage now that the songs had gotten so successful.  What was the point of
hiding behind a nom de plume if people kept asking your opinion on it?
    “Don’t
worry.  My feelings aren’t hurt,” she said with cheerfulness she didn’t
actually feel, recognizing they were actually talking about two entirely
different things.
    “I
know,” Bea said. “You’re made of stock entirely too strong for that.”  Faith
rolled her eyes at that, knowing the old woman tended to forget that she hadn’t
started out a