Sighing, she turned back to Hank. "My watchdog," she admitted and briefly explained Wild Wind's burning desire to insure their investment.

"Thehell you say!" Easygoing eyes gone hard, he stepped around her and, pausing only long enough to lay down his banjo, strode toward Jared. "Listen, pal-"

Alarmed, she sprinted after him. While Jared might be a full head taller and didn't appear particularly worried, she'd once seen Hank flatten a man a good deal beefier than Mister Oh-so-nonchalant Hamilton would be even if he supersized his meals for the next ten years.

Idiot that he was, Jared looked completely unruffled as he faced the irate musician-his only concession to the approaching threat to pull his hands free of his pockets. "You're taking issue with the wrong man," he said evenly as Hank rocked to a halt in front of him. "Take it up with Wild Wind. I'm just doing the job they hired me to do."

"Good for you." Hank gave Jared a flat stare. "But she's right where she's supposed to be, isn't she? So you can take a hike."

For a second Jared's posture lost its easy slouch and a dangerous expression flared in his eyes. Then he shrugged and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the left wing.

P.J. watched him go, telling herself she didn't feel disappointed. Hell, no-that would be just plain ridiculous. Shesaluted Hank for routing him-she should have thought of that whole I'm-here-so-now-you-can-go-away deal herself. As for the big hollow space in her stomach, she just wished she'd grabbed something to eat was all. The sound check could take quite a while depending on how good the acoustics were and how well the new backup band meshed with her way of playing.

Joining Hank, she slipped her arm through his. "My hero," she said, batting her lashes at him.

He snorted.

"Have you seen Eddie or Nell yet?"

"Last I saw Eddie, he was romancing the front-office girl. Haven't spotted Nell."

"I'm here," a soft voice said and they both turned. A plump, medium-height woman materialized from the shadows of the right wing, where her medium-brown braid and medium-dark clothing had rendered her invisible.

"Nell!" P.J. dashed across the stage to give her only real female friend a fierce hug. "I'm so glad to see you." Stepping back, she held Nell at arm's length. "Now, are you sure you want to do this again this year? I mean, why be tour manager when you can make more money and work less hours as a songwriter?"

"What, and give up all this glamorous travel?" Nell looked around the stage, bare of everything except Hank's instruments and pieces of the bandstand that the roadies were setting up for the extra musicians Wild Wind had hired for the tour, then out at the empty theater.

Following her gaze, P.J. saw with a jolt that Jared hadn't left at all. He sat in the front row, one ankle propped on his opposite knee. The only other person out there was the sound man in his booth at the back of the main floor. Having introduced herself to him earlier, she dragged her attention from the last guy she'd expected to see front and center and returned it to her friend. "Is the bus here yet?"

"Yes. I just spoke to the driver and he's pumped. Apparently he's a huge country-music fan and is looking forward to driving you. Thinks you're darn near as good as Patsy Cline."

"Get out. Nobody's as good as Patsy." Then she laughed. "But whataya say we go check out our new ride as soon as we finish the sound check? We're going to have to make a decision about buying our own bus after this tour, I suppose. I'll have to run it by Ma-" Renewed pain was a razor in her throat and she cleared the clogged tissues gingerly. "Um, Ben, I mean."

Nell squeezed her hand. "I'm real sorry, Peej." She hesitated, then straightened her shoulders. "But I have to say something that I've been biting back for years."

"What's that?"

"Your mama's a bitch."

P.J. choked, stared at her friend for a frozen moment:then laughed like a coyote. Hank howled, too, and she saw that he was closer than she'd realized. They exchanged delighted glances.

It wasn't the sentiment so much as the sentiment coming from Nell's mouth. Because she was soft-spoken, eschewed makeup and wore clothes that made her blend into the woodwork, people often assumed she was a mouse. She wasn't; she had a wicked sense of humor and usually didn't hesitate to state her opinions.

At the same time she was genuinely nice and a good friend, and P.J. didn't doubt for a moment that Nell loved her. "So, how long have you been keeping that to yourself?"

"Pretty much forever," Nell admitted. "I know how much you wanted to have a made-for-TV family relationship with her."

"Yeah, pretty desperate, huh? On one level I've always known the person she is. Damn, she kicked me out of the house when I was thirteen years old. And I have a feeling it took some pretty strong threats on the part of a woman named Gert to get her to take me back again."

"Is that why you made her your manager? Thinking that if you gave her carte blanche over your career she'd love you the way you deserve? Because, I gotta tell you, I never understood that."

"No-that would have been halfway understandable at least." A roadie wheeled past part of the risers that would elevate the backup band at the rear of the stage, and P.J. got out of his path then moved to the front of center stage where she wouldn't have to keep dodging the crew.

Nell and Hank came right along with her, and she gave them a look. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope." Hank reached into his shirt pocket where his smokes resided, then apparently remembered where he was and let his hand drop.

"Not a chance," Nell agreed. P.J. sighed her defeat. "Okay, then. The real irony here? I never set out to make her my manager at all. She began showing up at some of my shows back in my bar-singing days when I first started to draw crowds. And one night Ron Brubaker stopped by to check me out."

"Mercer Records Brubaker? That was your first label, right?"

"Yeah."

"So Jodeen was there the night Brubaker came in," Nell prompted. "What'd she do?"

"Sashayed straight to him and started talking me up. After the show Ron came over, introduced himself and told me how proud of me my mama was. The next thing I know I'm being offered a contract to play in a much larger venue while-are you ready for it?-I cut my first record."

"It was your first big break," Hank said.

"With Ron Brubaker, who's famous for not tolerating problem clients. What was I gonna do? You know how hard it is to break into this business and I was bending over backward trying to look as professional as possible. Mama had charmed his pants off. So I let the fact that she was written into the contract as my manager slide. And then, of course, I was stuck with her." She looked at her friends. "And I know what you're thinking. After I split from Mercer over those widely publicized 'creative differences,' I could have dumped her. But-I admit it, okay?-I liked having her like me for the first time in my life. And right up until she started helping herself to my money, she actually did a pretty decent job of representing me."

Then she raised her chin. She knew she'd been needy and had shown poor judgment, but the last thing she wanted was their pity. "Long story short, I was an idiot. So I guess I'm getting what I deserve."

"Bullshit," Hank growled.

"Complete and utter BS," Nell agreed. Reaching out, she gave P.J.'s arm a comforting rub. But her expression was serious-and perhaps a little bit hurt-as she said, "Why have I never heard about this before today?"

Because she hated, hated,hated anyone realizing what a chump she could be when it came to her mother. Hell, she'd just as soon not admit to it now, but Nell was right. They'd been friends longer than P.J. had ever had the opportunity to be with anyone else. And friends deserved the truth.

"It happened before we met," she said carefully. "And in truth, Nell? I'm not exactly proud of how easily I've let Mama manipulate me over the years."

"Ah, hon, that's notyour shame. That rests entirely on your mother's should-"

"Hey, tiny thang!" a cheerful male voice interrupted. "How's my best girl?"

"Hey, Eddie," P.J. replied without turning around. She'd know the voice of her guitarist anywhere-not to mention the dreamy admiration she could see forming on Nell's face and the exasperation on Hank's. Then she was swooped up into strong arms and whirled in a fast, tight circle. Slinging an arm around Eddie's neck, she hung on until he slowed down, then gave his handsome face a friendly pat. Eddie Brashear was charming, talented and not to be trusted farther than you could throw him when it came to the fairer sex. P.J. had helped clean up more of his messes than she cared to remember.Someone had to pick up the pieces when his woman of the moment learned that fidelity wasn't part of his vocabulary, and God knew it was never Eddie.

But he was the perfect diversion from having to chronicle more of her dysfunctional relationship with Jodeen and she was happy he was there.

"You're late," Hank snapped as Eddie set P.J. back on her feet.

"Chill out, old man. Some of us have better things to do than show up half an hour early for sound check. Besides, the roadies are just now finishing setting up." Turning to Nell, he chucked her under the chin. "How are you, sweet thing? Glowing as ever, I see."

She blushed, Hank snarled and P.J., deciding it was pretty much business as usual, said, "Whataya say we get this show on the road?" She walked over to the musicians who were tuning up their instruments in the bandstand and introduced herself.