Meant to Marry Me

Sitting across from Zach and Shawna in a booth at a diner close to where they practiced, Bree picked at her sandwich and occasionally dipped a french fry into some ketchup and put it in her mouth, not really tasting any of it. She'd asked them to join her for a late lunch/early dinner so she could talk to them about what Trent had told her the day before, about how Monica and her friend George wanted them to play at Nashville Nights, but so far, all she'd done was listen to the happy couple talk about how they were moving in together next weekend.

That was fine with Bree. As a matter of fact, the longer she sat there, the easier it was to convince herself not to say anything to them at all. It wasn't like she didn't already know what they were going to say, that Trent was right, and Monica was nothing but trouble. But then, they were musicians; surely they could see how great this could be for their band, wouldn't they?

After she'd finished her walk with Trent the night before, she'd done some research--covert research. He didn't need to know what she was up to. It turned out, Nashville Nights had done a lot for several bands in the area. Eighty percent of the groups that had played there in the last three years had gone on to book major nationwide tours, not the measly little arenas and venues Zelda had snagged for Bree and her band, but full stadium shows, big time gigs. If they could manage to pull off something like that, well, it would be a dream come true, something she could only imagine in her wildest dreams.

"You look like you have something on your mind, Bree," Shawna said, wiping her hands on a napkin. The keyboardist been talking so much, she'd hardly touched her burger. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah. Everything is great." They had to know she wanted to talk to them about something. Normally, they all grabbed a snack around lunchtime and then powered through practice, eating when they got home. It was hard to call a lunch break in the middle of practice. Once they really got the new songs down, they'd move to recording them, and the hours in the studio then would compound, so they may as well get used to it.

"It was nice of you to ask us to lunch," Zach said, the small smile he gave her a hint that he knew there had to be more to it than just a suggestion that they hang out as friends. They spent most of their time together anyway, so she had to want something.

Bree cleared her throat and took a sip of her sweet tea, wishing it was something stronger, but it was still early. "All right, you guys, here's the deal," she said, not meeting either one of their gazes. She had thought about how to bring it up a million times, but nothing ever sounded right. So she may as well just blurt it out. "Monica wants to invite us to Nashville Nights. Trent doesn't think it's a good idea--because it's Monica, and she's shifty. But... of course, I'm thinking about it. She needs an answer ASAP. I just need your advice."

There. It was all said. She looked up then, and met their eyes. Both of them were staring, mouths agape, eyebrows raised. Bree looked away.

"Well..." Zach began, looking from Bree to Shawna and back again. Bree managed to at least glance in his direction a few times as he continued. "I think Trent has a point. And... considering we've already had an encounter with a crazy woman who wanted to kill you this year, maybe we try our best to avoid a similar situation?"NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

His tone alone was enough to make her smirk. Ordinarily, there wouldn't be anything funny about the comment, but Zach had lived much of that hell with her. "I know," she said, finally looking him in the eye again. "But I can't fathom a situation where Monica could actually try to hurt--or kill--anyone at a fashion show. Can you?"

"If anyone could find a way it would be that crazy bitch." Zach didn't know the woman himself, but he'd heard all of Bree's stories.

"Well, I don't know," Shawna said, holding her lemonade in both hands as she took a sip and pondered the situation. "I agree that Monica is a nut job, from what I've heard, but I can't imagine there would be anything she could do at such a big event. Surely, there will be security and bodyguards and people like that."

"Yeah, sure. Those people will be concentrating on the spectators, though. They won't be expecting the talent to go after one another," Zach pointed out. "Not that we couldn't bring our own security people."

"That's an idea!" Shawna perked up, as if the possibility of them going through with the show just became real. "We could take some of our roadies. They're all trained as security."

Training the roadies to keep the band safe was an extra measure Zelda had put in after Cat's crazy rampage. They always had a couple of actual security people with them as well, just in case the venue's people weren't as capable as one would hope. Those guys would be able to help out at the fashion show, she'd think. Why wouldn't they be able to do it? Monica couldn't possibly have something planned. That would just be stupid. There'd be so many potential witnesses. Trent was just being overly cautious.

"I'm not sure I want to be indebted to Monica, though." Bree twisted a lock of her hair around her finger, considering what that would be like, owing Monica for her big break.

"Another good point," Zach agreed. "Really, I'm guessing we almost got the nod this year. If we keep heading down the same path we're on now, next time around, we'll be a sure thing. I'd rather we accomplished this on our own terms." "You do realize you're saying you want to pass on a lingerie fashion show, right, love?" Shawna asked her boyfriend, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

With the sort of over-exaggerated grin on his face that made him look the picture of innocence, Zach said, "I don't need to see anyone else in their underwear, baby. I've got you."

Bree groaned, and Shawna shook her head at his ridiculousness. Then, turning back to Bree, she said, "I think we should ask the other band members. We should vote. I say we do it, but I'll go with the majority, for sure."

"Voting is a good idea. I'm just not certain the others understand exactly how crazy Monica can be. I haven't told them as much as I've told you two. That's why I wanted to meet with you."

"We can fill them in first," Zach offered with a shrug. "But I can tell you right now, if we put this to a vote, I'm going to be the only one who votes no, even if you told them Cat was the one who arranged it. The other guys will want to do it, not just because of the models in lingerie, but because it's such a good opportunity, they'll think we're crazy for not accepting it."

Bree had a feeling that would be the case. "I guess I can go ahead and vote no, too, then, since it won't matter," she said, thinking it would be a good way to present the facts to Trent. It wasn't just her decision, so she'd asked the band. After a vote, they'd decided to go for it. She and Zach had voted no, while the others all voted yes. At least, that's how she expected it to go, too.

"Trent won't hear anything different from us," Shawna said in support of Bree's plan. She gave her friend a small smile. It wasn't as if she was lying; it just seemed like it because she wouldn't tell him that secretly, she wanted to do it, too. Even if Monica attempted to hold it over her head for the rest of her life, it was just too good an opportunity to pass up, and besides, Monica did owe her. She should be trying to fix things. With a deep breath, Bree pulled out her phone and sent a group text telling the other guys they'd be voting on something super important in the morning so not to be late to practice. She knew that would probably drive them crazy all night, but at least they could get it over first thing in the morning, in time to let Monica know their decision so she could book them--if that's the way the others voted. She knew they would.

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, but she hid it. Playing at Nashville Nights would be awesome--even if the woman she hated most in the world, even more than the one who had tried to kill her--would be there.