Free Diva NashVegas by Rachel Hauck Page A

bodyguard, and the roadies. There were days my rolling slumber party was more like a rolling petri dish spawning hormonal, emotional breakdowns.
    Scott: Care to share specifics?
    AJ: Well, there’s the story Melanie referenced about our drummer. And I just want to add that the band has backed me with this Melanie thing, and I’m grateful.
    Anyway, our drummer, Keeta, was having personal issues. We were about to go on at the sold-out St. Petersburg Forum when the production manager whispered, ‘Keeta is in the bathroom, crying into her cell, breaking up with her boyfriend.’ Keeta is a fabulous musician and performer, but her love life is a train wreck.
    The house lights were going down, and the crowd was gearing up, getting loud with excitement. But still no Keeta. I whispered a “blue” word to the production manager. “Tell her to get her [bleep] out here before she’s fired.”
    Meanwhile, the sound engineer was looping a prerecorded intro over and over, and the fans got ansty, stomping their feet, whistling, hooting. I don’t know if you’ve ever faced an angry mob, but it’s very scary.
    Then, all of a sudden, the music kicked. My heart flew out of my chest. I bet I lurched forward a good two or three feet. Keeta had found her way to the stage, and she took out her heartache on the drums. She gave her best performance all tour.
    Scott: What’s your take away from this tour? I, Aubrey James, learned . . .
    AJ: [laughing] Too many lessons to name. [thinking] Here you go.
    A lesson for the ages: I, Aubrey James, learned women communicate on seventeen different levels, and for the first time in my thirty years, I feel genuine compassion for the male species. We put you guys through some crap, but all I can say is I’m sorry, there’s no cure in sight, just love us.
    Scott: [chuckling] Rafe, did you get the apology? It has to make the cut.
    AJ: Please air it. It’s true. It’s downright frightening how women communicate.
    Scott: So the tour wasn’t a big sisterly, woman-rule-men-drool slumber party?
    AJ: No. Women are amazing creatures, but I’m certainly glad God created men.
    Scott: Makes two of us.
    Glancing at the script, I try to find the next set of questions, realizing we left the planned conversation after page one. Peeking around the room, Olivia gives me the thumbs-up. Let’s see . . .
    Scott: You’re one of the most successful country artists of the past decade, and one of the most photographed women in the world. US , People , National Inquirer , The Globe , Country Weekly , Hello , Daily Mirror , newspapers, magazines, tabloids across Europe, Australia, Canada, Brazil, Mexico, Japan . . . I could go on.
    AJ: Are you telling me or asking me?
    Scott: Recounting a fact. How does this sort of stat impact you?
    AJ: I can’t win a CMA, but the Most Photographed Woman honors, I win. [laughing] When I go into Harris Teeter, which isn’t all that often, I autograph the tabloids by the checkout counter. I’m usually on two or three covers.
    Scott: Good for you. So you see this as a necessary evil and have fun with it.
    AJ: Is any evil necessary? [looks down and brushes an imaginary piece of lint from her jeans] I certainly don’t take the tabloids seriously. Except when my so-called friends dish on me.
    Frankly, I’m astounded by this whole paparazzi thing. I’m a country singer, Aubrey James, born and raised on the other side of town. How can I be one of the most photographed women in the world?
    Scott: You’re beautiful and mysterious. Your European fan club is the second largest fan club in the world, behind Bono and U2.
    AJ: Now that’s incredible. [glancing at Piper] Did you know this? I love my fans. They are the reason I tour every year. But the rest of this is a mystery. Right up there with who shot JFK, you know? I have no idea why the press follows me. Actually, I think whenever my neighbors need beer