Almost Home (NG2)

Problems

Nash had a busy week. He had filmed his song for the Christmas special. When people watched on TV, the specials looked magical. He discovered that there was no magic. Instead, it was a decorated set with cameras and hot lights. Looking festive in a holiday sweater left him as sweaty as he was after a concert.

He sang 'I'll be home for Christmas' even though he wouldn't. The holidays were hard. He wondered what would happen if he went home and shook his brother's hand? He could meet his nieces. Maybe if he hadn't sung about his brother's wife on the radio and to packed arenas.

He smiled his famous smile at the cameras. "I hope everyone can go home for Christmas. Merry Christmas, y'all."

It took multiple takes. When he finished, he ripped the sweater over his head. The star who was headlining the special thanked him.

"I'm a big fan. Someday, I'd love to do a duet."

He smiled. "Have your agent talk to my agent."

He couldn't linger, because they expected him at the recording studio. When he arrived, the background vocalists were in the booth. Clyde was in the control room. Tyler and Cayla were hanging by the crafts table laughing. If he were Rob, he would punch the guy because they were sitting too close.

He grabbed a sandwich and a Coke and sat across from them. He took one bite when Clyde called him in.

"Hey man, what'd I miss?"

"Backups sound good. Tyler's having a grand ol' time with his new best friend."

"I noticed."

"We were discussing the bridge on the cheating song. He's being flipping stubborn."

"Like he can be."

"Yeah, well, Missy record label backed him up. What the hell instrument does she play? Where's her Grammy award?"

"Did you get the track?" He nodded. "Let me listen. "I wrote the darn song." With help from Scarlett.

He slapped on headphones and listened to the drums. "I need more." They had recorded the guitar and bass. He listened over again as he sang the lyrics in his head.

"No, dammit! I didn't write it to sound like a rock song. I'll talk to him."

Bryson, the music producer, said, "No, let me do the dirty work. I'm going to want vocals in twenty."

Nash went to finish his sandwich. He couldn't sing, starving. He sat down to more, laughing.

"Hey, Cayla, how's Rob? I've been too busy to keep up with him."

Tyler glared at him, but Cayla didn't notice. Her face softened. She may be feeding Tyler's ego, but she had feelings for Rob.

"He's good. I guess. I've been so busy. If he stays awake, I see him for a few minutes at night and in the morning, when I wake early enough."

"You sure have been with us a lot. Do you have other artists you need to relate with?"

"None are recording."

If he had spoken, he would have said, you're just getting in the way. Bryson may be dealing with it, but he planned to speak with Wesley.

Recording sessions meant long days. They often started late and went even later. He was dead asleep when his phone rang at seven am.

"Yup."

"Nash."

He would know her voice anywhere. He sat up, suddenly awake. "What's wrong?"

"I need your help."

"Anything. Always."

"It's Law." His spine stiffened. "He's in Chattanooga. He got himself arrested."