Ruby Lynn Hayes, the so-called country music darling, has been accused of breaching her contract with C&L Entertainment. Her former label asserts that Ruby violated the terms of her contract at the close out of her tour. During the final show in Nashville, Ruby played an unreleased song called ‘Heaven-Sent and Hellbound.’ Her former label asserts that playing the unreleased track constitutes a significant breach. We’ve reached out to Ruby’s team, but her publicist has declined to comment. Miss Hayes has not been seen in public since the split, though there is some online speculation that she has returned to her hometown.
And just like that, reality comes crashing back down around me. I knew I couldn’t escape it for long. Two weeks isn’t bad, all things considered. It was a nice respite from the spotlight.
To be fair, I’d known when I played that song that I was running the risk of being called out for it, and I knew when I decided to end my contract they’d find some way to fuck up my life. This isn’t a surprise, but foresight doesn’t make it sting any less. When people can’t control you anymore, they will try to control how people perceive you.
You’d think after a five-year working relationship, they’d have at least a modicum of respect for me, but I was never a person to them. Not really. I was a paycheck—a signature on a dotted line and a hallway lined with platinum albums.
I’m so fucking done.
I toss my phone clear across the room, wincing as it falls to the ground with a loud thud.
Seconds later, Liam’s concerned voice filters through the door. “Ruby? Is everything ok?”
“Yep. I’m good,” I reply. “Just dropped my phone.”
A deep chuckle follows my white lie, and even through the door, it makes me weak in the knees.
“If you need me, I’ll be downstairs,” he says. “Try not to break anything.”
I throw my head back and groan. I need to remember that I’m not living alone anymore. Honestly, I should be fired before I even start this job. Inanimate object violence is probably frowned upon in the nanny profession.
Reluctantly, I stand and check my phone for any damage. It’s unharmed, and the article is still on the screen, taunting me. I pull up the contact for Abby, my personal assistant and publicist.
Ruby: We need to put out a statement.
Abby: Already on it. Are you good with me airing some of your claims against the label?
Ruby: If you think it’ll help. Contact the lawyer on the legalities of what we can say.
Abby: Already spoke to Adam. I’ll send you a draft for approval ASAP.
Ruby: You’re the best.
I scroll to my voice memos and play the most recent one—the soft melody I hummed as I stood at Mama’s kitchen sink—and stride down the hallway to the music room. Sitting at the piano, I match each note.
I should be used to the constant scrutiny by now, but it still has a way of getting under my skin. The way people view me, this perfect, infallible country music superstar… she’s not real. It’s all a carefully manufactured facade put together by the label to turn me into their cash cow.
There’s still a fierce bitch underneath it all, but sometimes even I forget. Without all the stage lights and the confetti, the signature bell-bottoms and sequins, the cowboy hats and custom Luccheses, I’m still the same small-town girl I’ve always been. That’s not how the world sees me. Eventually, the identities start to blur, and I lose a little bit of myself in the process.
The music—some of my biggest hits ever—never spoke to me the way some of my first lyrics did. The ones I wrote with my legs hanging off a tailgate. Those words… the ones inspired by the battered acoustic guitar in the corner of this very room and the man who held it in his hands…
Those words still resonate in my soul.
Nothing soothes me the way music does; nothing except maybe…him.
10 years ago
Liam
After another night of fitful sleep, if you can even call it that, I wander outside, seeking the solitude I can’t get when my mind is stuck in the past. The moon and stars shine bright overhead,and there’s a chill in the air settling deep in my bones. The faint strum of an acoustic guitar floats on the breeze, tentative notes that speak of sadness and longing.
My footsteps crunch on the gravel drive away from the threadbare apartment my brother and I call home. I’m saving up for a bigger place. Mom’s insurance money is still being held in trust until I turn twenty-one, so it will take some time to get us out of here.
“Liam? What are you doing out here?”
At the sound of her melodic voice, my gaze snaps up to meet the stunning blue eyes belonging to the only girl who’s ever made me feel like I matter. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since that night at the waterfall, when she stripped out of her wet clothes right there in the clearing while I had my back turned, and put onmyshirt before I dropped her off at home.
She’s perched on my open tailgate with her guitar in hand, with a notepad and pen beside her.
