A Song in Her Heart: A Sapphic Romance, page 1
A SONG IN HER HEART
T.B. MARKINSON
Published by I Heart SapphFic Press
Visit iheartsapphfic.com for the latest news, book details, and other information.
Copyright © T. B. Markinson, 2023
Edited by Kelly Hashway
Cover designed by Victoria Cooper
This e-book is copyrighted and licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
A Preview of The AM Show
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
How did I get here? Hannah wondered as her fingers trailed along the cool iron banister.
Not literally. It wasn’t like she’d hit her head and was suffering amnesia or something. But the big picture of her life’s path eluded her as she descended the sweeping staircase of her Nashville home. The scent of roses filled the air from the dozens of fresh-cut bouquets that came weekly, mingling with the soft notes of a song playing from hidden speakers as sunlight splashed across the polished wooden floors of the foyer below.
What a waste. Hannah didn’t particularly like roses. Dandelions were her favorite flower, but she’d been told more times than she could count those weren’t good enough. Poor little flowers, blooming for all to see, neither appreciated nor loved. Perhaps that was why she felt such a kinship to what everyone else considered a weed.
Hannah sighed heavily, taking in the house she’d banked on bringing her joy. It had seemed so promising when she’d signed the papers. Not only was it bigger than the one she’d grown up in, but it had the added benefit of being way more decadent than anything even her prestige-obsessed mother could have dreamed of. Which was saying something.
Hannah’s mother, Margaret, had never suffered a shortage of grand aspirations, especially where her daughter’s life was concerned. From going to law school to marrying a partner at her father’s firm and becoming president of the Junior League of Savannah, Margaret had mapped out every detail of Hannah’s existence before she was old enough to utter a single word of protest. Although Hannah liked to think she had been squirming in protest in her crib right from the start.
Then came the revelation that caused her mother’s Jenga tower of ambitions to topple to the ground. Hannah coming out as a lesbian had put her beyond redemption in her mother’s eyes. Margaret’s parting words when Hannah left home had been to inform her she’d never succeed and would come crawling back home a disgrace. And her mother hadn’t decided whether or not to accept Hannah back into the family fold.
Yet despite her mother’s dire predictions, Hannah had eventually come out ahead. To sever ties to her family, Hannah dropped Fredericks, going by her first and middle names. With a bit of luck and a lot of hard work, it had only taken her a dozen years or so to become an overnight sensation. After the success of her most recent studio album, she’d earned enough to plunk down millions in cash for a house that would’ve made her mother green with envy.
Bottom line? Even if Hannah could take it or leave it, her mother would kill to live here.
This simple fact should have had Hannah jumping with joy. Instead, she was left with a hollow ache she couldn’t escape, one she feared would swallow her whole.
She had everything she ever thought she wanted—fame, fortune, adoring fans. But the house was too big, the silence too deafening. She had to keep music playing 24/7 in the background just to keep all of her negative thoughts from invading her mind. Her success came at a steep price, and when she stopped to think about it—Nope, don’t go there.
As for adoring fans, they didn’t keep Hannah warm at night, no matter how many of them would’ve volunteered to try. But ever since her breakup with Sam five years ago—the woman whose cruel indifference had inspired the song that had launched Hannah to stardom—she slept alone.
Fame made it difficult to trust anyone, and Hannah had trust issues that, stacked end to end, would stretch from Nashville to the moon and back again.
Thanks, Mom.
Sighing, Hannah trekked barefoot across the foyer to the home office where her assistant, Brooke, was already working, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
“Morning, Hannah,” Brooke said in greeting, barely glancing up from whatever pressing email had most of her attention. Dressed impeccably in a tailored blouse and dark jeans, Brooke somehow managed to look both professional and effortlessly chic.
Another life skill that earned Hannah a failing grade. Just ask her mother.
“Hey, Brooke.” Hannah’s voice sounded weary even to her own ears. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Carla is on her way over with costume samples for your upcoming tour.” Brooke shuffled some papers around on the desk, not making eye contact, as if sensing this was unwelcome news. “She found some incredible designs that she thinks you’ll love.”
“Great,” Hannah muttered under her breath. The last thing she needed was Carla swooping in, all sharp angles and demands, insisting Hannah make changes she had no interest in making.
She had a sinking feeling that her own ideas of incredible would differ vastly from her manager’s. The older woman seemed determined to mold Hannah into something she wasn’t, and the mere thought of it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Carla was the hands-on kind who weighed in on all decisions, big or small. She’d even had opinions on the house. She’d wanted Hannah to buy something even more obnoxiously grandiose.
Picturing how her upcoming interaction with Carla was likely to go, Hannah let out an anguished sigh.
“Try to keep an open mind,” Brooke said gently, seeming to sense Hannah’s mood souring with each passing second. “You never know. You might end up liking what Carla’s picked out.”
Hannah bit back a sarcastic retort, opting for a tight-lipped nod instead. Conventionally pretty, with a solid job and a nice boyfriend, Brooke was the kind of girl a mother would gush about to the church choir. Hannah knew her assistant meant well, but the woman couldn’t possibly understand the pressure that came with being forced to conform to someone else’s vision. And although Hannah had tried to communicate her desire to remain true to herself and her music, it seemed that no one was willing to listen. Not even those Hannah employed. There was maddening, and then there was wanting to scream your head off for distant life forms in other galaxies to hear your cry for help.
One thing Hannah knew for sure was that Carla and Margaret would have been bosom buddies. The irony didn’t escape her. Hannah had left home at seventeen, worked her tail off to get the freedom to be true to herself, only to have a manager disagree wholeheartedly with every decision Hannah made. It was like the universe wanted her to pay for her mistakes, over and over again. As if, somehow, she could atone for—
No. Don’t go there.
Hannah sucked in a breath, focusing on the Faith Hill song to help shove the unfinished thought from her mind. She wasn’t going to think about her past, giving it power over her. What was done was done. Time only moved in one direction, and that was forward. Hannah had to do the same.
But would she ever truly bloom in her own way? A dandelion, unashamedly herself. She could only hope so.
“Any chance of a cup of coffee before I head into battle?” Hannah attempted a smile, but feared the result was something that would frighten the neighborhood children if they caught sight of her.
“How about a latte?” Brooke offered, jumping up from her desk.
“Perfect.” This time, Hannah’s grateful expression bordered on genuine. But as she sank into her plush office chair to await Carla’s arrival, Hannah couldn’t help but feel like a pawn in a game she didn’t want to play, never mind understand.
It was hardly the first time in her life she’d felt that way.
Before Hannah had consumed nearly enough caffeine to function as a genuine human, a sharp knock rattled the heavy wooden front door. Brooke lurched up to answer it.
A moment later, Carla swept into the room like a tidal wave, bringing with her a flurry of glitter and glitz. Costume samples draped over her arm sparkled with the intensity of a thousand suns, burning holes straight through Hannah’s retinas and her soul. Her heart sank as she took in the sheer number of sequins and rhinestones. Whole continents were probably experiencing a shortage of shiny doodads, and it was all her fault.
Flannel and hoodies were more Hannah’s jam. To hell with it being the stereotypical lesbian uniform. What did she care about stereotypes? All she wanted was happiness and to wear clothing that didn’t make her arms break out in an itchy rash.
“I’ve found the perfect costumes for your tour!” Carla announced, her voice brimming with enthusiasm, putting on a show. “These are going to keep the tongues wagging in the best possible way.”
Hannah bit her lip, trying to hold back the barrage of profanity that threatened to burst forth like water from a broken faucet. “They’re... very sparkly,” she offered, keeping her tone in neutral territory through a sheer act of will. It was way too early in the day to declare a full-scale war.
“Exactly!” Carla beamed, laying the samples out on the table before Hannah.
Hannah couldn’t help but wince at the sight of the barely-there fabrics, the plunging necklines, and the thigh-high slits. “Are you sure this is everything? I mean, shouldn’t clothes… uh… cover me?”
“You’re a riot this morning. These outfits scream Hannah Taylor is a superstar.” Carla zoomed a hand through the air like reading the words on a billboard. “They’re from one of the hottest new designers and just what you need to take your career to the stratosphere.”
If Hannah didn’t speak now, she’d regret it.
“I don’t care if they’re woven from gold,” Hannah said as softly as she could muster, which didn’t turn out to be as soft as she’d liked. “My fans don’t come to see a fashion show. They’re there for the same reason I am. The music.”
Carla sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Your image is just as important as your voice. Sex sells, and if you want to reach a mainstream audience—”
“My audience likes me for who I am,” Hannah snapped, knowing in this case the word mainstream was code for not queer. “I won’t prance around onstage half naked just to appeal to a bunch of leering men.”
“You’re being completely unreasonable,” Carla said, doing a much better job of keeping her cool, although her left eye twitched. “This tour could make you a legend, but not if you insist on dressing like a frumpy lumberjack. Seattle grunge is so last century.” She narrowed her eyes like a hunter ready to swoop in for the kill, making Hannah’s skin crawl.
“Carla, these aren’t me.” Desperation had crept into Hannah’s voice.
“I know you feel that way.” Carla’s tone was patronizing. “But we both know this industry is more than just the music. Image matters. And right now, we need to work on yours. Starting with your weight.”
“My weight?” Hannah echoed, anger bubbling beneath the surface at the unexpected attack. It was high school all over again, her mother pointing out each and every flaw, both physical and moral, that prevented Hannah from being the perfect southern belle.
“Let me be frank, darling.” Carla’s expression was serious. “These costumes will look stunning on stage, but they’ll look even better if you lose twenty pounds.”
“Twenty?” Hannah knew she’d put on a little extra weight lately, what with all the stress of finishing up her album, not to mention a holiday season spent alone. No more than ten pounds, tops. She was curvy, sure, but was that really so bad? Plenty of women liked thick thighs.
“Your look is everything in this business,” Carla said bluntly. “No one will take you seriously until you fit the part. You need to appear sexy and alluring, and that’s not going to happen the way things are now.”
“This is ridiculous,” Hannah snapped, her desire to hold back evaporating. “I don’t need to be some stick-thin pop princess to be successful. My fans want me to be who I am. They don’t need rhinestones and glitter.”
“Your existing fans, sure,” Carla countered. “But the ones we’re trying to win over, like a new lover, will appreciate the extra effort. We’re talking about super stardom here. Don’t you want that?”
“Of course, I do,” Hannah admitted, her voice barely a whisper. It was all she’d wanted for as long as she could remember, the entire reason she’d come to Nashville the minute she was able to strike out on her own. The only reason she’d been willing to abandon certain elements of her past, no matter how painful it had been. Not that she had much of a choice, but still.
“Good. Then it’s time to play the game.” Carla’s voice dripped with condescension. So much for the woman’s restraint. Did that mean the gloves were off? “You’ll thank me when you’re a household name. These outfits will help get you there.”
“Fine,” Hannah murmured, staring at the glittering garments before her with bitter resignation. “I’ll at least give them a try. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“Good girl,” Carla cooed, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Once you see the results, you’ll be singing a different tune.” Carla studied Hannah for a moment, as if weighing her next words carefully. “Let’s move past the clothes for now. I’ve got some news on how you’re going to get ready for the tour in March.”
“Other than, I don’t know, practicing the songs?” Hannah glared skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You know the songs forward and backward. I’m not worried about that. I’d like for you to spend some time at Serenity. It’s a top-of-the-line health spa in the lush, wooded hills near Waynesboro, Tennessee.” Carla’s eyes widened with anticipation. Or was she readying for battle?
“Lush, wooded hills? You can skip the marketing brochure prose,” Hannah interjected as she tried and failed to refrain from letting out a snort. “What day am I supposed to go? Or is this an overnight type of deal?”
“It’s a four-week intensive stay,” Carla said, though Hannah wasn’t convinced she’d heard correctly. “You’ll work every day with a personal trainer and nutritionist to help you lose those pesky pounds.”
“Did you say four weeks?” Hannah was nearly too stunned to breathe. “I only have six weeks until rehearsals begin, and you’re shipping me off to some kind of rich person fat camp? I never agreed to any of this. You’ve gone too far this time.” Hannah was proud of herself for not spraying the room with f-bombs, but she envisioned them in her mind, Carla running from one explosion only to smack into another.
“You’ve got it all wrong. It’s a luxury wellness retreat,” Carla corrected as if the distinction made all the difference. “Besides, it’s not just about weight loss. They offer various services, like yoga classes, meditation sessions, and massage therapy. Think of it as a posh summer camp for adults.”
“It’s winter. And I hated summer camp.” Hannah struggled to keep her composure. “Nothing but rain and mosquito bites. Can’t I just work out in my home gym and skip dessert? We have yoga classes right here in Nashville. Or do they do downward dog differently in Waynesboro? Wherever the hell that is.” She may not have dropped those f-bombs with wild abandon, but Hannah failed miserably to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.
“Sweetheart, you know as well as I do you lack experience in this business,” Carla chided gently. “You need to trust me on this one. I’ve seen the updated choreographies Henry has in mind, and with the shape you’re in right now, you’re not up to snuff. When was the last time you made it through a full workout?”
Hannah opened her mouth to reply, but as she counted up the days in her head, she snapped it shut again. Remaining mute was her best defense.
“That’s what I thought.” Carla had the nerve to flash a victorious smirk. “Serenity is the best way to prepare you for being up on that stage. You’ll emerge from this retreat looking and feeling your absolute best. Believe me; you need this to level up.”
Hannah gritted her teeth, trying to push down the frustration that curdled within her. She’d always been proud of her authenticity. Now it seemed as if every decision was aimed at turning Hannah into something she wasn’t. Strip away her dandelion DNA and bloom like a rose without thorns because sharp edges weren’t ladylike.
