by Robyn Nyx
“Louie appears to be female, though I can’t speak to their gender identity. There’s such a spectrum these days, it’s hard to keep up.”
Savana’s informed response saved Heather the possible trouble of saying anything at all.
“And that doesn’t worry you?” Donny pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket and chewed on its end. “What happened to the days when girls wore heels and a skirt and guys wore jeans and a tee? I liked that. Things were less complicated.”
Savana glanced at Heather and rolled her eyes. “I can handle anyone who hits on me, Donny, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “I learned the hard way that women can be just as much of an occupational hazard as horny guys.”
Savana’s statement sounded loaded, as though she’d had an unsafe situation with a woman. She also seemed sad and still affected by it. Heather wasn’t surprised by her admission. Sexual violence wasn’t limited to male perpetrators.
“Well, as long as she stays behind the scenes. Rocky Top can’t be seen to be promoting unnatural states of being.”
Heather tensed her whole body and tried to remain visibly unaffected by Donny’s outrageous statement. Savana flashed her a look she couldn’t decipher, and it was gone before she could decode it.
“They’re auditioning tomorrow. I’ll let you know how it goes, but it’s my decision, Donny.”
Savana’s repeated and deliberate use of they instead of a female pronoun impressed Heather further, but it also made her think she might need to reassess her own position. Heather identified purely and simply as a femme lesbian, and she was attracted to women and the female form in all of its different manifestations. If Louie labeled herself as something different from that, what might that mean for Heather’s attraction?
Donny mumbled something, but Heather didn’t catch it, and either Savana didn’t or she simply chose not to react. Conscious of the time and her now overwhelming desire to consult with Emma about all things gender, Heather held up her iPad. “So, thoughts about Gabe?”
Donny nodded. “I can’t deny he’s a great singer, and his performance was flawless.”
Heather felt a “but” was imminent and chose to head it off. “It was. He’s a natural on stage. He’s charming and cute. I think his appeal cuts across all ages of women.” Heather saw Savana raise and drop her eyebrows. Didn’t she agree? “If he joins us now, he’d be young enough to carve out a long-term career, and I think he’d be loyal when everything he sings goes platinum.”
“You seem to have a lot of faith in him, Heather. Why?” Savana asked.
Heather felt her forehead wrinkle at her question. She swept her hand across her face to move her bangs and disguise her surprise. Savana shouldn’t even be here, let alone be asking questions.
Donny pulled the cigar from his mouth and re-pocketed it. “That’s a good point, Savana. Why are you backing this horse so strongly, girl?”
Heather swallowed and composed herself, unsure as to why Donny was suddenly following Savana’s lead. “He’s got that something extra that goes beyond a few hit songs. I think he’s got staying power, and he’ll work twice as hard as anyone else given this opportunity. It’s a win-win situation for the label.” Heather couldn’t explain why she was so sure Gabe would do any of what she’d said, but she felt strongly that his drive and desire backed her belief. She glanced across at Savana. She smiled and looked innocent enough, but Heather couldn’t help but think she was somehow manipulating the situation to push her own agenda. If that was the case, Heather wanted to know. It seemed like a conflict of interest could be imminent, and Heather wasn’t sure which position meant most to her and where her own agenda should lie. She did know she wanted all the information to make that decision, and she hated being kept in the dark.
“I have to think of the label’s reputation, Heather. Consumers look to us when they’re looking for new artists to follow. We have to be careful about who we’re pushing on them,” Donny said after a long pause.
Pushing? Gabe wasn’t cocaine. “What are you saying, Donny? Are you afraid of something?” Heather leaned forward in her chair. When Donny’s eyes fell to her breasts, she reclined so they were away from his lecherous scrutiny. For once, it’d be nice to have a professional discussion with her boss without his gaze falling south of her eyes.
“I’m not afraid of anything. I’m just not as sure as you are that the boy suits who we are.” He scratched his cheek. “Sticking a cowboy hat on his head and a checked shirt on his back wouldn’t make him country. This isn’t just music. It’s a way of life. And I don’t think your boy is genuine.”
The way Donny repeated “boy” several times scratched at Heather’s racism radar like metal claws on a blackboard. He wouldn’t say it outright. Donny was obviously too clever for that, but Heather knew what he was saying. Perhaps he hadn’t been sure if Gabe’s color could be whitewashed just enough to make him more palatable for narrow-minded rednecks, and he needed to see him in the flesh to decide.
“What do you think, Savana?” Donny turned his attention away from Heather.
Savana shook her head. “This isn’t my label, Donny, it’s yours.”
Heather ran her hand through her hair and sighed. She hadn’t wanted Savana to be here, but if she spoke up in favor of Gabe, Heather would appreciate it. She’d been in so many of these auditions with Donny and he’d never asked for anyone else’s opinion. Why was he starting now? Did he think that Savana wouldn’t stay with the label if he signed acts she didn’t approve? If this was the way labels worked, it was yet another thing she wouldn’t be doing when she had her own.
“Humor me. What if it were your label?”
She smiled broadly and shook her head again. “Not my call, Donny. I’m a performer. This kind of decision isn’t for me.”
Savana’s avoidance of an opinion one way or the other was expert, and Heather supposed it was a necessary evil adopted during years of deflecting awkward and potentially inflammatory questions from the media. Having a strong opinion on anything might endanger an artist’s popularity with factions of their fans. Watching Savana do it, however, made Heather lose a little respect for her.
Donny grumbled and swiveled back to face Heather. “It’s a no.”
Heather felt the dismissal like Donny had thrown a leaded weight at her heart. She was always saddened when Donny didn’t give contracts to her find, but she felt this particular one more deeply. It was as if Gabe were her own brother. And his connection with the oh-so-enigmatic Louie had possibly secured his place in her heart. But his hope, his pure desire to achieve his ambition, had put lighter fuel on her own goal of creating her label, a haven for talent who were wickedly overlooked by the bigoted giants of this industry. Donny’s excuse of being careful what he was “pushing” on their consumers was a pitiful excuse, and it didn’t credit the American people with the musical intelligence to know good music when they saw it, whether it came out of a black, white, or bright green mouth.
“Edwards,” Donny half-yelled. “Bring in the next act.”
“Yes, sir.”
Heather watched as Edwards reacted to Donny’s barked instruction, indicating their discussion was over. He straightened the jacket of his one and only Brioni suit and strutted toward the door. She knew it was worth the equivalent of six months’ salary and had often wondered why he’d waste so much money on a suit that he couldn’t rightly afford. His sycophantic toadying to Donny had gotten him this gig, and depending on her mood, it amused or sickened her. With Donny’s rejection of Gabe, Heather leaned toward the latter today.
The realization that she would have to let Gabe down was slowly taking root. Usually, Heather called the unsuccessful acts to tell them they weren’t joining Rocky Top, but she knew she’d have to do this one in person. She wanted Gabe to succeed, and she didn’t want this setback to floor him. She decided to visit him early tomorrow morning before she got into work, and before Louie came in to see
Savana. Heather was looking forward to seeing Louie again but had hoped it would be under celebratory circumstances. Still, it gave Heather the chance to be close to her, and she’d take that no matter what the context.
Chapter Eighteen
Louie scrubbed at her face with both hands and squinted at the time on her phone: nine a.m. “Who the hell is coming by this early?” She pushed the thin blanket away and reluctantly climbed out of the bed she now called the cloud. Her sleep had been fitful with her dreams swinging between hot sex with Heather and intense songwriting sessions with Savana. The two of them had kept her restless most of the night, irrespective of the most amazingly comfortable bed in the world. The bell had sounded twice before their early morning caller had gotten impatient and started knocking on the glass through the screen door. Gabe was obviously a heavy sleeper, although Louie suspected he might still be unconscious after the number of tequila shots he’d had in celebration following his audition. He was one hundred percent sure he’d be getting the yes call sometime today.
She popped a mint and made her way to the door, stubbing her toe on the solid wood couch foot on the way. She was about to curse, but she caught a glimpse of their visitor and saw it was Heather. Louie considered ducking out of the way and zipping back to her room to freshen up, but Heather spotted her and waved through the window. Louie raised her hand then ran it through her hair to tame it a little. She’d used so much product yesterday to get it into some sort of style that now it stuck out at all angles, and it felt like a lion’s mane after a raunchy night with a hellion lioness. She was also wearing last night’s shirt. “Fuck,” she whispered. Her plans to dress to impress Heather later this morning would now be colored by her seeing Louie in yesterday’s clothes. She adjusted the waistband of her workout shorts to make sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself further and reached for the door handle.
“You’re doing house calls for contracts?” Louie’s smile faded when she saw Heather’s reaction to her joke. She raised her hands—one held a paper bag and the other a tray of coffees—and looked apologetic. It obviously wasn’t good news.
“Can I come in?”
This wasn’t how Louie had imagined Heather’s first visit to her place. She’d wanted to be freshly showered, in her best outfit, and ready to sweep her off her feet with her charm. In a stinky shirt with no jeans and bed hair, Louie felt anything but sexy.
“Sure.” Louie opened the door. “Excuse the mess. We weren’t expecting any important guests.” She closed it quietly behind Heather, not wanting to wake Gabe. This didn’t look like the news he was convinced he’d receive today.
Heather placed the bag and coffee on the wooden table and looked around as if needing permission to park herself somewhere.
“Please,” Louie gestured to the couch, “take a seat.”
Heather did just that, and Louie sat opposite her on the armchair, as far from her as might be considered polite. She hadn’t checked her armpit situation, and she didn’t want to add anything else to the possible list of negatives she was sure Heather was now compiling.
“Is Gabe in?”
“He’s sleeping.” Louie gripped the arms of her chair and made to get up. “Would you like me to get him?”
Heather nodded. “You’ll stay though, won’t you?”
Louie sank back into the chair. “What’s going on, Heather?” Louie didn’t need to ask. She knew the answer but didn’t want to verbalize it. She wanted Heather to tell her she’d jumped to an unwarranted conclusion.
Heather sighed and sipped at her coffee. “I’ve got bad news, and I wanted to tell Gabe personally.”
Louie remained fixed in her chair. Movement failed her. As did her words. Heather raised her eyebrows and looked expectant but didn’t speak. Moments passed until Louie finally jumped up from her chair. “Let’s get this over with.” She knew it sounded harsher than she’d intended, and she also knew it wouldn’t have been Heather’s decision not to sign Gabe. Her belief in him had gotten him the audition in the first place. But Louie didn’t know how hard this was going to hit him. They were both convinced he’d done enough to get a contract, and they’d partied like it was a done deal. Big mistake. She walked up the corridor trying to figure out how much she should say when Gabe emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
“Is someone here?” he asked.
Louie pulled back and waved her hand in front of her nose. “That’s some morning breath you’ve got there, champ.” He grinned and blew air her way but waited for an answer. “It’s Heather King.” Louie’s heart broke a little when Gabe’s grin turned into the widest smile.
“Yes!” He punched Louie lightly on the shoulder. “I told you, buddy. I told you! Tell her I’ll be right with her,” he shouted over his shoulder as he jogged down to the bathroom.
Louie turned and trudged back to the living room. Heather looked up at her and for a moment made Louie forget why she was there. She was something special. A little younger than Louie usually liked, but Heather had an intoxicating maturity about her. This was their fourth meeting, and it was under some pretty rough circumstances, but Louie figured she might as well make use of it before Gabe came in and Heather destroyed his dreams.
“Are we destined never to have that drink?” She said it jokingly, but something swept through Heather’s eyes that partly answered Louie’s question. She wished she hadn’t asked. This morning was getting worse by the second.
“You’re going for an interview today, aren’t you?”
“Is that a change of subject or is your inquiry relevant to mine?” Louie asked.
Heather smiled. “It’s relevant.”
Louie dropped back into the armchair, opened the paper bag, and pulled out a sticky Danish pastry. “You have good taste in breakfast food.”
“Now who’s changing the subject?”
Heather sipped her coffee again, and Louie couldn’t help but focus on the way her lips caressed the cup lid. “Not so. Just delaying the anticipation.” Louie took a quick bite of the Danish. She was glad she was blessed with a physique that meant a little running kept her in relatively decent shape. Subconsciously, she touched her stomach and felt a little too much softness. Maybe she needed to get back to running. “Savana told you?”
“Of course she did. I’m her exec. I’m helping her ease into Rocky Top and navigate her change of direction.”
Louie bit her lip before responding. Heather’s professional tone was quite the turn-on, and she certainly looked the part in her pencil skirt suit and killer high heels. “Is that a problem?”
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. King. Louie and I had a late night after the audition,” Gabe said as he flopped onto the couch beside Heather.
Louie ran her hand through her hair in exasperation at Gabe’s intrusion. Heather smiled and inclined her head slightly. Louie had no idea what she was communicating, but it made her want to know all her little signs and tells. Louie wanted all manner of private conversations with Heather.
“It’s not a problem, Gabe. Louie kept me entertained in your absence.”
Oh, I’d love to entertain you. Louie leaned back into the soft give of the ancient armchair and waited for Heather to drop the nuke.
“I’ll bet she did.” Gabe threw Louie a look.
He knew all too well what Louie’s intentions toward Heather were. They’d discussed them at great length last night over the tequila.
“I’m truly sorry…” Heather said then stopped speaking as though that were enough of an explanation.
Gabe’s smile disappeared, and he looked as though he might collapse and meld into the couch.
“Sorry?” he said. “I didn’t…you’re not here…”
Louie swallowed down her sudden desire to pull Gabe into a buddy hug. “I should leave you to it.”
“No.” Gabe grabbed at Louie’s wrist. “Please. Don’t go.”
His look of absolute desolation wrapped around her throat and squeezed, but Louie was already
working on an alternative plan to help his career. She’d remembered a few years ago some snot-nosed kid launching his career on YouTube, and now he had Grammys, American Music, and Billboard Music awards. Facebook was the most popular social media platform now. All they needed to do was make some decent quality videos, and Gabe’s talent would do the rest, Louie was sure of that.
“I thought you liked me.” Gabe’s lip trembled. “I thought you liked my voice.”
Heather reached over and put her hand on Gabe’s knee. “I do, and your audition was fantastic, Gabe. You couldn’t have done any more, but Donny…”
Louie shook her head as Heather didn’t utter the unspeakable, and the look on her face conveyed all Louie needed to know. Donny was a racist prick. It clearly put Heather in a difficult position. Maybe she wanted to say more but knew she couldn’t in case it got back to her boss. Gabe smiled, but there was a sadness that overwhelmed his usually bright eyes. He’d been pinning his hopes on getting this contract, but it wasn’t to be.
Gabe stood and offered his hand. “Thanks for coming over, Ms. King. I appreciate you taking the time to do this in person rather than over the phone.”
Heather took his hand in hers. “I’m so sorry you’re not joining us. There are lots of other options for someone as talented as you are, Gabe.”
He nodded, looking disconsolate, and made his way back to his bedroom. Louie waited until she heard his door click softly closed, but Heather was already out of her chair and smoothing her skirt down.
“I have to get to work.”
There was an urgency in her voice Louie hadn’t caught before Gabe interrupted their conversation about the potential of her working with Savana. “I take it that you think me working with your top artist will be a problem for this.” Louie motioned her finger between the two of them to indicate the attraction they both felt.
Heather offered a tight-lipped smile and walked to the door. She opened it before turning back. “I won’t act on anything that might affect my position at Rocky Top. It’s probably for the best.”