Acceptance: Heart of the South: Jonesy: Heart of the South, #1

By Lyssa Layne

Heart of the South lead singer Noah "Jonesy" Jones is soaring toward the title of King of Country Music that his buddy Lee Maverick left for him to fill. Remy Smith is enjoying her job behind the scenes at a local radio station until her boss thrusts her in front of the microphone. When she's assigned to cover the Red, Wine, and Boom County Music Festival, she is not happy at all, thanks to her strong disdain for country music. Jonesy, always the one to save a damsel in distress, helps Remy survive her first interviews without being eaten alive. Despite her opposition to his choice of music, Remy decides to give him a chance. When Remy's co-worker decides to break the news about their relationship, Remy quickly pulls away and Jonesy may never know why Remy hates country music.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyssa Layne
• Release date: Feb 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386299936

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jonesy

My fingers flutter over the strings of my guitar, playing a familiar tune without even realizing it. I smile as the chords merge together and my fingers move faster, picking up the beat. The music I create gets louder as does my voice as I sing the words that go with the melody. I’m in the zone, fingers flying, voice booming—

Dude, come on! Some of us are trying to sleep, Isaiah Hazzard, drummer of my band, Heart of the South, yells at me. His eyes are hidden as his ball cap is pulled down low. His feet are propped up on the table in our tour bus and even if he were to actually fall asleep, it would be the most uncomfortable position ever.

Sorry, Sah, I’m just getting excited about the festival, I explain, stopping my hand from moving over the guitar again. Red, Wine, and Boom is the biggest country music festival in the nation. It’s over the Fourth of July holiday weekend in St. Louis, Missouri. People come from all over the US to see their favorite country bands, drink their version of wine, and watch the largest fireworks show in the land. This is the first year that our band, Heart of the South, will be headlining. Ever since Lee Maverick stepped out of the limelight and quit touring, our band has been on a roller coaster riding to the top of the country music world.

Why? It’s just another concert. We play our music, drunk people dance and sing along sloppily, then we’ll pack up and get back on this shitty bus to head to the next stop, Isaiah grumbles, his arms still folded across his chest.

Whoa, man, where’s this coming from? My stomach sinks, if one of us isn’t on board then this whole tour will sink faster than the Titanic.

He lifts his ball cap and shrugs. Sorry, just got shit on my mind, that’s all.

I start to ask like what when our guitarist, Clinton Linsley, chimes in. Stop your bitchin’, Hazzard. Women flock to you, dropping their panties the second you hit the drum. You need to loosen up and chill with one of them if you know what I mean. Clinton, our resident ladies’ man, is always good from some ‘stellar’ advice that no one should ever listen to.

The fourth member of our band, keyboardist Logan Morgan, walks into the small living/dining area of our tour bus, yawning.

I pick up a mug and pour him a cup of coffee. Handing it to him, I nod toward Clinton and Isaiah. Tell them both to stay away from the groupies, Log. Tell them how wonderful being married is, that fidelity is the best—

Shut up, Jonesy, Logan snarls, taking a long sip of coffee and calling me by my nickname instead of my full name, Noah Jones. We can’t all be a perky asshole like you.

I laugh, crossing my arms across my chest. Here we are, a bunch of almost thirty-year-olds, who’ve been in the business for nearly a decade, chasing our dreams of hitting it big. The allure of being famous has worn off on some of us while some, ahem Clinton, enjoy it a tad too much. We’ve been cooped up in this bus for almost twelve hours straight which means the diva in each of them is about to come out.

Clinton throws his arm around my shoulders, squeezing his hand tightly around my neck. I’m right there with ‘ya, Jonesy. I can’t wait for Red, Wine, and Bone, too. He grins at his own joke then yells at our driver. How much longer, Mo?

Less than forty-five minutes, the old man yells back at us.

I clap my hands together. Perfect! We’ll get there soon and then everyone can go do their own thing to relax. Dylan is supposed to meet us there so I’ll check in with him to find out the schedule then we’ll get the party started.

Dylan Bing, the band’s manager, new to us but not the industry. After a falling out with our old manager, Red Garber, the Queen of Country Music herself, Miranda Wallen, hooked us up with Dylan Bing. The man has been working in the music industry for almost twenty years, each of his client’s more famous than the one before. Most importantly, we can trust him which isn’t something we could say about our former manager.

Isaiah glances up, one eye still shut. Bing’s email said we start radio interviews at four... which is in thirty minutes.

Under his breath, Logan mutters something about so much for time to relax.

"Look, guys, I know we’ve been on tour for forty-seven days without a break, but look at our record sales. People are finally beginning to know us for us, not as the opener for Lee Maverick, Miranda Wallen, and Kyle Kelly. It’s been a long road to get to where we are and it’s finally starting to pay off, just a couple more months then we’ll have all winter off."

Logan shakes his head. Exactly, Noah. We’re finally getting a name for ourselves and now we’re going to spend the weekend showcasing with the three people that are bigger than us at the largest concert all summer. It’s like two steps forward and five hundred steps back. No one’s going to care about Heart of the South when they have country’s biggest love triangle to fawn over this weekend.

Now it all makes sense why the guys aren’t pumped about the festival. I was looking at it as a reunion with some old friends, while they see it as competition. For years, we opened for Lee Maverick and Miranda Wallen, the formerly married couple that have been crowned the King and Queen of Country Music basically since the day they entered the profession. After the two divorced, Maverick fell for his new opening act, blonde bombshell Kyle Kelly. The drama continued when it turned out that Miranda was pregnant with Lee’s baby. Long story short, they’re all a happy family now and while Maverick has stopped touring, his wife and ex-wife now tour together so he hasn’t really gone anywhere since he still makes appearances with them every now and then. Maverick gave us his tour when he stepped down, but he left some big boots for us to fill.

Come on, guys. Miranda, Kyle, and Boss aren’t trying to take us down; they’re on our side.

The guys mumble and shake their head, obviously not wanting to hear what I have to say.

I need them on their A game for this weekend so I take a deep breath before I start again. Look, I’ll cover the interviews this afternoon. You guys do whatever it is you need to do to chill out and get your head in the right place for this festival. If you’re really worried about the three of them then we need to be sure we give these fans a show they won’t forget.

My three bandmates look up at me and I lift my eyebrow, waiting for them to give me some kind of approval. Slowly, Isaiah and Logan both nod, and the grin on Clinton’s face sends a shiver down my spine. Who knows what kind of trouble he’ll get in by the time we arrive and go onstage. Mo guides the bus off the interstate, guess we’ll find out soon enough.

Remy

Music is my life. I was raised to hate it and grew into loving it. Maybe not specifically music itself but music was associated with both the good and the bad times of growing up and to this day, I let music run my life. As a radio broadcast assistant to St. Louis’ biggest voice, Hays Devney, I get to live the life of a DJ without being thrust into the spotlight myself. The fact that the station I work for, KZUM, plays all genres of rock from classic to heavy metal to punk, makes this my dream job. There’s not a day that I dread going into work and most days, I’m sad when it’s time to punch out. So, it’s amazing to me how my day can start out headed to being one of the greatest moments of my life to shooting down the crapper in approximately two point two seconds.

Thirty minutes ago, I thought my day was going to be filled with rubbing elbows with people from bands like Breaking Benjamin, Korn, Stone Salty, the Sshh List, and more. Now, I’m going to be trading out Chucks for cowboy boots, and I want to cry. Dropping my head to the desk in front of me, I cradle it in my arms, trying to hold back my tears.

Cheer up, Rem, it’s not the end of the world. Hays Devney squeezes my shoulder and when I look up at him, that cockeyed smirk on his face makes me want to punch him. Hays is still a rookie breaking into the DJ scene, but his outspoken attitude and cockiness drives the people of St. Louis crazy and he’s moved up faster than anyone else I’ve ever seen in the industry. Granted, at twenty-five, I’m only two years older than him; but in the two years I’ve been with KZUM, I’ve never seen someone his age get their own morning show so quickly.

Whatever, I mumble and shake my head. It would be one thing if I was told I wasn’t needed today or that I had to stay in the studio but Red, Wine, and Boom? Tears well up in my eyes and I tilt my head back, trying to keep them from falling. Red, Wine, and Boom is the absolute, most awful place that I don’t want to be.

Hays flashes that cocky grin even wider, his blue eyes twinkling, and I roll my eyes, thinking about all the women that have fallen for his baby blues. He leans back against the counter in the studio, crossing this scrawny arms across his puffed-out chest, trying to look more manly than he actually is. He’s the true definition of metrosexual.

What? Worried some country crooner might write a song about you, his dog, and his beat-up truck? He chuckles loudly at his joke then shrugs as he looks back in my direction. Besides, the festival has the word wine in the title so I’m sure you’ll be able to drink enough to forget about your hatred for country music.

I stand up quickly, the rolling chair hitting the low hanging microphone and I cringe as it does. The equipment around here isn’t cheap and our bosses will hold us accountable for anything that breaks on our shift.

Just because I have two X chromosomes doesn’t mean I like wine and even if I did, wine wouldn’t make this any better. I strut across the room, irritated even more that Hays just tried to group me together with the stereotype that all women like wine. Again, it puzzles me how he continues to be a successful disc jockey when his sources include stories his friends share on his Facebook feed.

I walk past Hays, avoiding eye contact because I’d really hate to lose it in front of him; it’s one thing to cry in private, it’s another to lose my shit in front of my younger, annoying co-worker. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take the hint and follows me out of the studio into the hallway.

Why is this so bad? Why are you hiding behind the scenes? This will launch you out there, let the listeners finally hear your voice, and meet the great Remy Smith.

I shiver at his words. As though working for our sister station, KCNT, isn’t bad enough, our boss is putting me on the mic. Today, my anonymity will disappear and despite all my efforts to blend into the background, the listeners out there will finally meet me. Another lifetime, I would be thrilled at the opportunity but given where I’ve come from and where I don’t want to go, I much prefer to be the wizard behind the curtain, not in front of the crowd. Despite my best efforts to change my boss’ mind, it was either do the dirty work or lose my job.

Looking up at his crystal eyes, I sigh and shake my head. Thanks for your vote of confidence, Hays. You’ll never understand but my job is to feed you info, give you the news to report. You’re the voice, I’m the brains. After today, we go back to that arrangement.

Hays’ eyes light up and he slips his arms around my shoulders. So... I’m the face, huh?

Groaning, I elbow the pretty boy in the gut and finally smile as he doubles over with a loud grunt. Red, Wine, and Boom, the nation’s largest country music festival... surely there will be beer for this redneck girl. I at least hope so, it’ll be the only way I get through this torture.

Chapter 2

Remy

Red, Wine, and holy hell it’s hotter than Hades is what this festival should really be called. Whoever thought it was a good idea to have a music festival, country music or not, in the middle of summer during the hot, humid days of Missouri was an idiot! My long, dark hair is already braided down my back but I curl it into a bun, pinning it up to get some kind of breeze on my neck because I have sweat rolling down places that I didn’t even know sweat could get to.

I pick up the closest thing I have to a fan, waving the sheets of paper in an effort to cool off.  Groves of people walk past me wearing denim upon denim and it makes my temperature rise just looking at them. This tent my boss set me up in to do interviews is nothing but a hot box. I guarantee if Hays was here there would be air conditioning and something more than a lukewarm bottle of water.

Hey there, Brains. You ready?

I glance up, my mouth dropping when I see Hays himself standing in the doorway. Despite the heat, he doesn’t have a bead of sweat on him but the real intrigue is why am I about to interview a bunch of singers that I don’t even know when he’s here.

You here to work? I stand up, pushing back the folding chair quickly and forcing it to topple to the floor.

Hays chuckles, shaking his head. I’m here with a date, just thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing.

My shoulders drop as do my lips and despite being twenty-five, I jut out my bottom lip and begin to pout. I don’t wanna do this, Hays. Come on, help me out!

He steps inside the tent and immediately, he breaks out in sweat across his forehead. Moving behind the table, he rests his hands on my shoulders and squeezes tightly. You’ll be fine, Remy, just relax... and open the tent flaps so you don’t kill anyone.

I glance around the room and suddenly it