A Nashville Collection by Rachel Hauck Page A

said it’d be like raising the Titanic to find the real Blaire Kirby.”
    I laugh but I stop the moment my gaze meet Blaire’s. “I’m sorry. Do you still have stage fright now that you don’t model?”
    She repacks her purse. “Now I just have fright in general.”
    â€œOh.” I want to tell her I’ll pray for her, but the words seem inadequate. Not on Jesus’ part, but mine.
    More and more, I realize fear wins when folks run and hide—or cover it with excuses. I’ll be the first to admit, it ain’t easy to press though, but dern it, I’m shining the Light on this monster under my bed.
    Besides, I can’t go back on a Robin McAfee decision Skyler faces Blaire with her hands on her hips. She’s still wearing her fancy lawyer suit. “So, are you saying all Robin needs to do is meditate and drink decaf? ”
    Blaire smiles. Skyler is the bright balloon tied to the end of Blaire’s lifeline. “You make it sound so simple. I’m saying she needs to find tools to help her overcome. Prayer, meditation, whatever.” She looks at me with smoky gray eyes.
    I slip the Auburn hat from my head. “But mostly, I just need to get out there and sing. Face my fears.”
    Skyler snatches up her purse. “Great idea. Let’s go.”

9
    Skyler navigates the Music Row roundabout and swerves onto Demonbreun. She whips her Beemer into a parking slot and gets out. “Let’s go.”
    â€œWhere?” I lean over the seat.
    â€œOn the Rocks Bar & Grill.” Skyler points toward the row of red-brick restaurants and cafés.
    â€œWhy?” I want to know. “Drinking won’t solve anything.”
    Skyler opens my door. “Not drinking, goof. Karaoke.”
    â€œOh no, nothing doing.” Sitting back, I cross my arms.
    Skyler reaches in to unbuckle me. “You just admitted you need to get out there and sing. So, let’s go.”
    â€œI didn’t mean karaoke.” I shove her hand away from the seatbelt buckle.
    Blaire crawls in beside me. Now she likes me; now she wants to be my friend. “This is a good way to go, Robin. A lot of singers wanting to be artists do a little karaoke. I think Mindy McCready got her start in karaoke.”
    â€œNothing doing. I’m not going in there.”
    â€œRobin, how the heck do you expect to sing at The Bluebird, the Douglas Corner Café, or The French Quarter if you can’t sing karaoke On the Rocks?”
    I drop my forehead on Skyler’s headrest. “Hadn’t planned that far.”
    â€œTime to declare war on terror.”
    â€œBut karaoke? It’s so stupid.”
    â€œYes, and stage fright is so smart and classy.”
    I stick my tongue out at her. Snooty lawyer. I slip out of the seat belt, square my shoulders, and puff out my chest. “Let’s do it.”
    Skyler, Blaire, and I stride toward On the Rocks like Charlie’s Angels, but just as we reach the door, I swoop around, head straight back to the car, and buckle myself in.
    The remaining Angels scurry after me. “Robin, come on.”
    â€œI can’t sing to a track. And look.” I point to my hat head. “I don’t have my hat. Don’t have my guitar for security . . . I can’t.”
    Skyler slams my door shut and gets behind the wheel. “Come on, Blaire.”
    â€œWhere we going?” I slink down in the seat.
    â€œFreedom.”
    I lurch forward. “Alabama?”
    From Skyler’s stereo, Martina sings to me that “this one’s for the girls.” “Yep. Might as well take you home since you can’t do what you came to Nashville to do.”
    â€œYou’re kidnapping me?”
    â€œIf you can’t run with the big dogs, Robin, stay on the porch. Make room for somebody else. You heard what Birdie said to her old tenant.”
    â€œTurn around, Skyler. Take me home.”
    â€œFreedom, here we