Even the most cynical among her production crew considered these ballads her very best. Whod have guessed theyd be her last? Certainly not Wes Carlisle, her manager, a soulless man whod hustled her into a one-sided contract during the confusing days following her dads death.
Wes would be livid when his caged bird flew the coop, and that made her smile.
Her band? A different story. She regretted not confiding in them. Her piano man and steel guitarist were dedicated. And Colby Donovan, her arranger, was the only one left of her dads friends. It was a good thing he was home recovering from surgery. When shed attempted to tell Colby how she felt, hed dispensed his usual bear hug and said Doug would have been so very proud of her. Shed achieved the pinnacle of success that her dads band had almost but never quite reached.
Despite regrets, shed planned her flight. It would be complete. And it would be tonightwhile Carlisle and his henchmen licked their chops, counting the proceeds they raked in from her sold-out concert. Wesley pushed and pushed and pushed her to write more and better chart breakers. No more, no more, Miranda thought with astonishing relief as the audience went still. Perhaps the fans had seen her tears. She couldnt stop them from running down her face.
One last bow. One last wave. She had nothing left to give.
Look at them. They all envied her fame and fortune. None would understand shed never wanted to be a star. She loved singing, but
This time when Misty passed her guitar to the kid holding Wess clipboard full of must-dos, he obviously sensed steel in her backbone. Still, he cautioned, Wes wont like that you only gave two encores. Jogging to keep up with Mirandas long strides, he panted. Wes has you timed to the second. Now youll hafta sit in your dressing room until he frees up a bodyguard to escort you to your bus. So I better stay with you.
Mirandas steps faltered as she neared her dressing room. Remind Wes I said at rehearsal that this sequence would drain me. I need to have some time to myself. Hell recall the conversation, uhDave, isnt it?
Hey, you know my name. Cool! Wes hired me for this tour, cause your new CDs gonna be a smash. He gave me strict instructions, but hey, youre the star, Ms. MisMisty, the smitten kid stammered.
Miranda hated that Wes would fire this boy for losing her. But it couldnt be helped. Daves very inexperience played into her hands.
AS IT HAPPENED, her escape turned out to be ridiculously easy. Inside her star quarters, Misty meticulously transformed herself back into the nondescript persona of Miranda Kimbrough. First, she hacked her long blond hair into a short spiky mopcarefully storing the cuttings in a plastic bag to be tossed later. Then she dyed her hair black. Without her blue contacts she barely recognized the woman staring out from the full-length mirror. Add ragged jeans, a faded blouse and a denim jacket straight off a boys rack, plus run-down combat boots and an old army backpack shed scrounged from a thrift shop, and her getaway ensemble was complete. Inside the pack, shed squirreled away cash withdrawn from one of her accounts. Considering she had millions, it was a pittance.
She worried that the meager funds wouldnt last. But because Wes scrutinized her bank statements, shed been afraid to take more. Miranda hoped what she had would keep her fed and on the road until her disappearance became yesterdays news. For good measure, shed sewn a pair of diamond earrings into the lining of her jacket. She didnt need diamonds. Only freedom. A chance to be herself.
While Dave guarded the front entry of her dressing room, Miranda slipped out a rarely used back door. Head down, she sped down a hall and merged with a teeming horde purchasing CDs from Wesleys hawkers. Rick Holden, Wess right-hand man, even tried to sell her a compact disc.
Shaking her still-damp curls, Miranda popped a stick of sugarless gum in her mouth and blended with a group of boisterous teens leaving the arena. Once free of the building, she ran for six blocks. Only then did she haul in a lungful of crisp October air. But she didnt relax until a Greyhound bus bound for Detroit left the glittering lights of Nashville behind.
Starting in Detroit, her plan was to hop a string of buses that would eventually deposit her in far-off L.A. She reasoned that if one small woman couldnt lose herself on the streets of Los Angeles, she couldnt find anonymity anywhere.
IT TOOK THREE WEEKS after she pulled her disappearing act for Miranda Kimbrough to reach her destination. She hadnt reckoned on Wes suggesting to police that shed been kidnapped, possibly for ransom. The band, all the staffers and roadies, everyone had heard her beg him for time off. But when her bus hit Kansas City, it was a shock to see headlines screaming KIDNAPPED! above her most recent promo photo now plastered on the front pages of major newspapers and magazines.
Panicked, Miranda had taken refuge on the streets with the homeless. Luckily shed met some kind folks. And vowed that if she ever managed to access her bank funds again, shed help the homeless in some manner.
When temperatures dropped into the twenties, Miranda began to feel guilty for taking up space at the cramped shelter. And guiltier still accepting a handout of food, knowing all the while that she could, with one phone call, return to a life of privilege.
Could. But she didnt make that call.
Wes virtually owned her. He pointed out often enough that shed signed an ironclad contract. Hed find a way to turn her disappearance into a windfall. Going back would change nothingexcept that she could expect to be watched twenty-four hours a day.
In the aftermath of her dads death, Miranda learned that few people in the industry performed for the sheer pleasure of it. Her dad had been a rarity. Doug Kimbrough had placed family at the top of his priorities. Hed loved her mother and Miranda and successfully juggled work and his home life.
Since Wes had signed her, she hadnt spent more than two nights in a row in her own bed at home. And shed like to make just one friend who didnt eat, sleep and breathe music at warp speed. Someday shed like to meet a man who could see beyond her voice. Someone who really cared about her likes, dislikes, needs and fantasies.
Her murky thoughts turned inward as Miranda hitched her backpack higher and trudged out of the busy L.A. bus terminal, and headed for an inner-city park shed scoped out on a seat companions map. Another helpful tip shed picked up in K.C. was that the homeless congregated in parks. By mingling with them, a newcomer could glean information vital to survival. This particular park was maybe a ten-block hike away, but Miranda didnt care. L.A. was much warmer than Kansas.
Pausing a moment, she slipped out of her lined denim jacket.
Hi. Is that your dog? A breathy voice spoke directly behind Miranda, causing her to whirl and duck sharply. A savvy homeless woman in K.C. had repeatedly warned Miranda about not letting anyone come up too close behind her.
Uhno. I dont have a dog. I just got off a bus.
Oh.
Do you live around here? If so, maybe you can help me get my bearings. Miranda extracted a pack of gum from her pocket and offered a stick to the unkempt brunettea young woman probably not even out of her teens.
With her face free of makeup, Miranda thought she probably didnt look much more than a teenager herself.
Thanks for the gum. Im Jenny, by the way. Shrugging, she said, I guess you could say I live here. I caught some zs last night at the bus depot. Sometimes the cops run us out. Last night I got lucky. She stripped the paper off the gum. Both women cast sidelong glances at the scruffy black-and-white terrier now sitting placidly at Mirandas feet.