Page 42 of Serenading Reagan
“Thanks, Mel. Have fun. Say hi to the guys for me.”
“Will do, see ya, chicky! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, which means… Do it all!”
Melanie’s parting shot had Reagan shaking her head with a grin. But when it came to Chase, she knew, she would most definitely do it all, and then some more. Happily.
* * *
Chase’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing with nervous anticipation the entire ride to the party. Richie had offered them a driver service, as well as a free hotel room that night. Chase had accepted the ride, but turned down the hotel room. He knew Richie was pouring out all the stops to try and impress him, all in his efforts to get Chase to sign on a deal. He refused to see that as an inevitability. Instead, Chase saw tonight as an opportunity to see if could still handle the chaos and drama of the industry. Parties like this were, if you looked closely, where the seedy underbelly of the music industry could be seen. Chase needed to know if the temptation of that dark side would be too strong. And, he needed to know if Reagan could handle it all. She was the lynchpin in this entire idea. His desire to produce another record had been dormant for so long, Chase was confident he could move on from it if he had to.But this chance might not come around again…he had been battling that thought all day. Torn between believing that he had all he needed with playing at the pub and being with Reagan, and arrogant optimism that he deserved to have it all—the girl, and the record deal.
Reagan sat quietly beside him, lost in her own thoughts. She was stunning tonight, hell, she always was. But something was off. Her outfit was sexy as fuck, he couldn’t wait to run his lips down the opening in her blouse, the space that showed off her spine and just a hint of her tattoo peeking out. Yet it wasn’t the clothes, or the makeup, that had him looking at her closely. No, he could see past the veneer of her appearance now. He could see that there was a thread of uncertainty running through her. She may have said the words of support and encouragement this morning, but now she was worried about something.
She glanced at him, her lip trapped worriedly between her teeth. Chase reached up his thumb to free it, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to the spot that she had been biting.
“Relax, Red. Tonight is going to be fine, I promise. We’ll go, meet a few people, get a feel for the label and what they might want, then we can go.” Chase hoped his voice sounded calm and confident enough to hide the truth. He honestly did not know how the evening would go. It had been years since he had been around industry people. The constant drive for more money, more fame, more attention was something he hadn’t missed, and tonight, he had a sneaking suspicion they would be surrounded by it.
The car pulled up at a ritzy hotel in downtown Portland, not far from The Lucky Strike. A valet opened the door, Chase climbed out then reached a hand down to help Reagan. She clasped his hand tightly, as if she needed him to anchor herself to reality.
They walked inside and as Chase looked around the dimly lit lounge where the party was being held, he felt the weight of his past settle on his shoulders like a heavy, unwelcome cloak.Not a great sign…he thought grimly. Maybe this was all a mistake. Before he could turn to Reagan and suggest they leave and just go to the pub for a drink he heard Richie call out his name.
“Chase Fucking Thomas. There you are!”
Reagan tensed beside him as they turned to see Richie striding toward them, two scantily clad women following just behind him. Chase squeezed Reagan’s hand tighter, in a futile effort to try and reassure her against the madness he suspected was headed his way.
“Hey, Richie. Thanks for inviting me, this is my girlfriend—”
“Yeah, nice to meet you. Chase, you have to come with me, there’s a guy I want you to meet who I think could bring a really kick-ass sound to your album.” Richie cut Chase off before he could introduce Reagan, then to add insult to injury, he tried to pull Chase away from her side. Chase stood his ground, now certain that coming here tonight was a bad idea.
“Look, I appreciate the invite tonight, Richie, but I haven’t agreed to the album. I still need to think about it.”
Richie barked out a laugh that sounded incredulous and condescending. It matched the slimy appearance of his slicked back hair and open collared shirt perfectly.
“Chase, my man, we have to act fast. You know how it is, you gotta grab the deal when it comes. Look, let my girls take care of your friend, and let’s chat—man to man.”
The last thing Chase wanted to do was leave Reagan alone in this hell, but she tugged on his hand, forcing him to look at her.
“It’s okay, Chase, go and talk. I’ll be fine.” Her voice was firm and as Chase searched her face, he saw her strength shining through her nerves. She was determined to stand by his side and let him explore his options, no matter how uncomfortable it was for her. Right then and there, Chase realized he didn’t need a record deal. He needed Reagan and the life they could have together. He decided he would talk to Richie, and tell him that there was nothing he could offer, no glitz or glamor, that would make Chase walk away from the life he had created here.
* * *
Reagan was in the seventh circle of hell. She was surrounded by strangers, who all appeared to be at different levels of inebriation, whether from alcohol or something else she couldn’t quite tell. The two women who Richie the slimeball had left her with had disappeared, leaving Reagan alone standing in the middle of the room. Chase had disappeared with Richie and while she logically knew he had not been gone long, it felt as if she had been there forever.
She turned toward the bar, intent on at least having a second glass of wine to help her get through the evening. As she stood there, waiting for the bartender to notice her, an arrogant voice spoke in her ear.
“You know you’ll only hold him back, right?”
Reagan turned to see Richie standing there with a smirk on his face. She glanced around for Chase but couldn’t see him right away.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she replied tersely.
He laughed, a crude sound that grated on her nerves. “No offense, sugar, but Chase Thomas is destined for fame. He might have turned his back on it for a while and played around with you, but look at him over there, in his element.” Richie gestured through the crowd and Reagan caught sight of Chase sitting in a booth, talking animatedly with another man. The excitement on his face was clear even from a distance. That was not the part that dug a knife into Reagan’s heart. No, it was the woman pressed up against his side that turned her stomach. The woman with shiny blonde hair, heavy makeup and a minidress on, who clearly fit in to the scene a lot better than Reagan did.
“See, Chase is going places, baby, and he doesn’t need any heavy weight dragging him down.”
Reagan winced at the not so subtle emphasis Richie placed on the word heavy. That was the truth staring her in the face. She was never meant to be a rock star’s girlfriend. Reagan was just a simple girl, who loved to bake and loved to eat her own baking a little too much. Chase needed someone who would be comfortable sharing the limelight, and she never would be.
As much as she didn’t want Richie to win, Reagan knew she had to get out of there. Chase deserved the chance to see what he could do with his music, and Richie had a valid, albeit horrible, point. If Reagan stayed around, Chase would base his decision on her and not on his own happiness. That was just the kind of man he was, thoughtful and kind.
Richie walked away, presumably back to Chase, leaving Reagan standing at the bar, bereft in her own sorrow. She had to get out of there, but didn’t want to interrupt whatever Chase was doing. She knew he would walk away from it all for her and that was the last thing she wanted.
