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coming straight out of your pocket, Corbin!”
    The low rumble of Trace’s response was unintelligible. But the man on speaker was loud and clear. “One more screw up of any kind, I mean it. One more dramatic meltdown, or underage girl saying you screwed her, or if you are so much as two seconds late to a sound check, you are done, Corbin. And I don’t mean just with this tour. I mean with the whole goddamned label!”
    Trace shouted a few obscenities, and something that sounded like motherfucking puppet, causing Kylie to wince. Pauly murmured something in a soothing tone and then she heard Trace storming off the bus.
    Jesus.
    Lying back down, she practically broke a sweat trying to fall asleep again. Trace was going to ruin everything. And he was taking her down with him.
    She must’ve dozed off because when she sat up and checked her phone, it was nearly ten. From the sounds outside of her door, it sounded like Pauly was talking to Trace and things had calmed down. She tried hard not to feel nervous about facing him after her huge blow up, and then having eavesdropped on someone from the label tearing him to shreds earlier this morning, but there were angry butterflies battling it out in her stomach all the same.
    A text from Tonya said Clive had come through on his promise; she was scheduled for some studio time as soon as the tour was over. Kylie was supposed to have three original songs prepared. So far she had one.
    Rehearsal on stage in Baton Rouge wasn’t until two so she figured she’d try to get some writing done until then. She took an Excedrin and stumbled to the restroom on the bus. Surely she would feel better after a hot shower.
    A fter showering and working up enough nerve, Kylie headed into the sitting area on the bus with her notebook and plans to get some lyrics down. She nearly tripped when she saw Trace eating breakfast in the booth where she’d confronted him last night.
    “Um, morning,” she mumbled.
    He responded by holding up a box of cereal like a shield.
    “Like that would save you,” Kylie deadpanned.
    “Apology accepted. You wanna talk?” he asked with a mouthful of Fruit Loops.
    She was starting to think Trace Corbin had drunk himself stupid. “To who?” she asked as she grabbed a banana. Someone had restocked. She switched on the Keurig and leaned against the counter.
    “To me.”
    She narrowed her eyes at her nemesis’ clear hazel ones. “Pass,” she said, turning back to the coffee maker. It wasn’t like there was anything else left to say.
    “Come on, I’m not really that bad. Promise.”
    “Oh yeah,” Kylie began as she added sugar to her coffee cup. “Says who?”
    “Yeah, okay,” Trace answered with a shrug before he shoveled in another mouthful of cereal. “I am sorry about Dallas. Saw it online.” She might have imagined it, but it seemed like he flinched. “That was brutal.” Except his mouth was full of cereal so it came out “bootal.” God, he even talked with his mouth full. If only all the women who threw their underwear on stage at his concerts could see him now.
    Kylie slid into the booth across from him and glanced at the colorful bird on the box. “What are you, eight years old?”
    “Emotionally, yes.”
    She sipped her coffee, glaring at him over her mug. “Then it all makes sense.”
    Trace stopped chewing and gaped at her. “You always this mean?”
    “Well, that depends. Are you always this selfish and unreliable?”
    “Not always,” he answered with a dark look. He pulled his fitted navy blue baseball cap off, ran a hand through his thick hair, and slipped it back on backwards. He hadn’t shaved. Something about the scruff on his chin made Kylie’s stomach tense.
    “We’ll see.”
    She took another drink and flipped open her notebook. She didn’t really want to write this close to this man, but it was the only comfortable spot on the bus.
    After a few minutes, Kylie was lost in lyrics. She’d been thinking a lot about Tonya and