Girl With Guitar Read Online Free PDF Page B

the hell did you expect? There was the debacle with The Pretty Pistols, you punched Bryce Parker in the face, and then you broke the little American Idol girl’s heart and tossed her out like yesterday’s garbage. You’re not exactly playing well with others, here, and frankly…you’re out of options.”
    Kylie didn’t hear his response but she had just learned a great deal about Trace Corbin. Turns out he was kind of an asshole. Figures.
    Great , she thought, relaxing her crouching position and resting her head on the wall next to her. I’m on the tour from hell and everyone else has been smart enough to get off.
    The morning after her eavesdropping, Kylie was getting some fruit from the kitchen when Trace stumbled in. Pauly was doing something on his iPad in the curved booth. “Was that the last banana?” Trace asked as she began to peel her breakfast.
    She stopped mid-peel. “Maybe. You want it?”
    “Yeah, I do,” he said, practically growling at her.
    “Well, you can have it,” she relented, tossing him the banana, even though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. “On the condition that in the future, you keep your late night, whiny baby, celebrity crap to a dull roar so the little twit can get her beauty sleep.” Kylie paused to glare at the man across from her. “Think you can manage that?” Pauly’s head snapped up and they both waited for Trace’s reaction.
    Trace glared back but the corners of his mouth twitched. “I can try,” he said evenly.
    “Yeah, well, don’t hurt yourself, superstar,” she said as she sauntered past him into her room. Screw it. She wasn’t that hungry anymore anyways.
    If he responded to her it was drowned out by the sound of Pauly’s hysterical laughter.
    Since then he had been polite. Distant, but polite, which Kylie was more than fine with. But now there was an hour before she was supposed to go on stage in Dallas, and Trace Corbin was nowhere to be seen. While staring at her almost unrecognizable reflection, she had a feeling he was going to make damn sure her dreams never came true.
    Like hell .

“G et off the stage!”
    “We want Trace!”
    “Go back to Oklahoma, waitress! Hey, get me a beer first!”
    Kylie had been on stage for over an hour. Her set was only forty-five minutes and the crowd knew it. Pauly’s voice had come through her ear piece demanding that she stall both times she’d tried to wrap it up. But the patrons at The Blue Moon knew a hack job when they saw one. She was out of material and the crowd was about to get violent.
    “I’m so sorry, Trace can’t be here tonight. He’s—”
    An amber glass bottle whizzed past her head before she even had time to think up a decent excuse for his absence.
    “Pauly!” she shouted as two security guards converged on a man in the back. Pauly appeared and escorted Kylie off stage. She was shaking. Not from fear. From anger. Trace Corbin was going to get an ear full. Whenever he turned up.
    I t was nearly three in the morning when Kylie heard the bus rumble to life. They were scheduled to perform in Baton Rouge tomorrow night.
    If the bus was moving, he was on it.
    Kylie burst out of her room and started to storm to the front of the bus but stopped halfway. Trace was strewn across the booth in the compact kitchen.
    “Fun night, Mr. Corbin?” she asked him. The beautiful mess in front of her lifted his head, hair flopping over one eye. He threw her a wicked grin before answering, “Yeah, yeah it was.”
    “Good, I’m glad. Because I got booed off stage and had a beer bottle thrown at my head. So at least one of us had a good time.”
    If she thought she was angry before, she was nearing homicidal. The cocky jerk laughed. Freaking laughed, as if the thought of beer bottles being hurled at her while she was booed was the perfect end to his night. No ‘I’m sorry,’ or even ‘That sucks,’ just outright laughter.
    “I’m glad I amuse you, but in the future if you can’t be