Love Out Loud

by Aimee Salter

  I’m not usually so adamant about a song, so Conrad takes it personally. But I’m sick of fighting. I ignore the burn of Amber’s gaze on my back and stand behind him, motioning for Kelly to stand next to me. I didn’t think this through. I can’t send her upstairs when I’m in the booth. But down here they’re within arm’s reach.

  Kelly gives a little shake of her head and looks at Tommy.

  “. . . what about your girl here. She sings right? It’s just a demo. I think the higher voice would be a nice contrast.”

  “What?” she squeaks.

  “It’s really easy. A couple echoes. A couple oo-oo-ooos and aaahs. It’ll only take half an hour. And it’s just for the exec team. You want to try?” Conrad’s a nice guy, if a little pushy. But Kelly looks at me, stricken.

  “It’s up to you,” I say. But I’d love it if she’d do it.

  Kelly looks to Tommy in the booth. He’s still got his headphones on because he can’t hear us on this side without them. He grins at her. “Go for it, Kel.”

  Her forehead pinches. “I’d like to try. But I might not be very good.”

  “No biggie,” Conrad says, trying to help her not feel nervous. “We can clear out the booth if you want?”

  Kelly nods and Conrad slaps the counter in front of him. “Good. Let’s get this thing in the bag so I can get home in time for the game. You all disappear for half an hour. Me and Kelly’ll see you when we’re done.”

  I smile and squeeze her hand. Tommy stores his sticks, takes the headphones off, and ambles out from behind his drums.

  Kelly frowns. “I didn’t mean you guys had to—”

  “It’s fine, I need to talk to Crash anyway,” Amber pipes up from behind us and I could fucking shoot her for talking right now. Kelly goes still, looking down at her hands.

  Conrad’s making adjustments to the board, Tommy’s just reached us when Kel grabs his arm. “Can you stay? You can give me advice if I screw it up.”

  Tommy grins. “Sure.” He sits back down on the couch. And now I’m burning because I want to be the one she asks for help. But Amber’s already climbing the stairs and getting her out of this space is a good thing. So I squeeze Kelly’s elbow, tell her I can’t wait to hear her singing, and follow Amber up to the house. I know what she’s doing. I’ll throttle her if she does it again.

  As I climb the stairs again, behind me Conrad talks Kelly through what they’ll do and gets Tommy to tap out the beat so she can have a practice run before they put her in the booth. Just as her clear, high voice peals out and my heart lifts, I reach the landing where the soundproofing begins and the door swings closed behind me, cutting off all sound.

  I trot up the rest of the stairs, fuming, and storm into the living room to find Amber already pulling out a chair on the deck.

  Make yourself comfortable, bitch.

  Maybe Kelly and Tommy are right. Maybe we can’t do this. Maybe we need to get a different manager. But I remember Amber’s threats about the hell we’d pay before we’d get out of the contract and I know she’d do it. So I shake my head and follow her out, slamming the big slider behind me.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Amber stares like she has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “Don’t play dumb with me—”

  “I’m not playing dumb, Crash,” she says, crossing her legs at the knee. I fight a shudder. “I’ve barely spoken to you today, I got out of the room when it was clear Kelly didn’t want me there. I thought I was doing what I was supposed to do,” she says, frustrated. “I’m leaving, but before I go, we need to sort out Forever You. Sony’s still out for blood, but they know it’s impossible to stem the tide now. Since the lawyers have to keep removing online copies, they’ve decided the official version will be free on YouTube—they’ll monetize it—and they’ll release it on iTunes as a single. But hear me on this, they’re steaming that you guys put it out there without permission. They think it could have been a second single for the next album. Don’t do that again.”

  “It was an accident. You know that. We put it together for them.”

  “I keep telling you, this isn’t high school. This is a multi-million dollar business. You screwed them out of real money.”

  “And I keep telling you I can’t change the past, so do your job, or I’ll find someone else who will.” I don’t realize I’m leaning over her until we’re almost touching. I take a step back, overbalance, and have to catch myself, swearing because I’m trembling, sick of being on the back foot.

  She smirks like she knows it.

  My skin crackles. I force myself to lean down, a hand on either arm of her chair, and put my face in hers. “You think this is funny? The only reason you’re still here is because so many people are depending on me. And you know some of them are telling me to ditch you like last week’s bad lunch? Do you know that, Amber? You aren’t as indispensable as you want to believe. And every time you get that look on your face,” I circle a finger in front of her, “it makes me more certain I don’t want to put up with your bullshit anymore. I lived poor for my entire life until a year ago, you think I can’t do it again?”

  She folds her arms. “I think you underestimate how hard it will be to go back—and if you get rid of me, I will ruin you, Crash. You know I will.” Her gaze glints like steel. But I’m done being shaky in front of her.

  “I’m not your bitch anymore. So you do your job, and I’ll do mine. But lose the smirk.” I lean in until we’re almost nose to nose. “Here’s the other thing about growing up poor with a drug-addled mother, Amber: That river of step-dads through my house taught me to finish problems with a baseball bat. And most of them didn’t care if the person on the other end was a girl, you understand?”

  I’m so full of shit right now. But I want to make her afraid the way she’s done to me for the past year. I want her to pay for the expression I had to see on Kelly’s face. For the way I keep catching my best friend looking at me sideways like there’s something wrong with me.

  Wariness enters Amber’s gaze. She knows my story isn’t great but doesn’t know all the details. She’s smart as a whip, but also messed up. And one thing I learned growing up the way I did: Messed up people assume everyone else is just as messed up as them. They’ll hurt others, so they think everyone else will too.

  I stare her down. We both know I’ve got the upper hand here because I’m willing to give all of this up. I think she had maybe convinced herself I wouldn’t—hence all the bullshit today.

  “Oh, and Kelly might look like a kitten, but she’s angry enough to break your neck if you push her. Stay. Away.”

  “She knows?”

  “Who do you think was on the other side of that phone?”

  Amber scowls.

  “You can’t win this Amber. So you do what we tell you, or you lose the gravy train. Your call.”

  “If I go down you’ll come with me.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk.”

  “Is Tommy?”

  It’s work to hold my expression like she didn’t just land a blow. But she knows. She gives a crooked smile.

  “I’d bet this house—hell, I’d bet Kelly—that if I asked him to, he’d turn you in himself.”

  “I guess we’ll see if it comes to that.”

  “I guess we will.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Two Months Ago

  Kelly

  The next evening while I’m cleaning up dinner, my phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Kelly Berkstram?” a warm voice says on the other end.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Kelly, my name’s Bob Mendelson.”

  He waits then, like I should know his name. I wrack my brain but come up blank.

  “Uh, hi, Bob?”

  He chuckles. “Haven’t heard of me, huh?”

  “No, I’m sorry. Should I?”

  “I guess not.” I can hear his smile under his gruff voice. It makes me smile back. “
Kelly, I had a call from a colleague today, Conrad Feinstein. He tells me you’re a talented young lady.”

  What? “Conrad, the music guy?” I want to slap myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth. “The producer, I mean. He’s working with Crash and Tommy?”

  “That’s the one. He said he worked with you a little today and he was impressed. He thinks you have what it takes.”

  “For what?”

  “Look, I’ll be really frank with you. I don’t usually pick up folk singers off YouTube who only have a single original song—though, I’ll grant you, I think there’s a hit in there—”

  “Wait, what?”

  “—but apparently Crash vouches for you, and I have a hunch you may be coming into some money with the Crash Happy collaboration. That’s a very big launching pad, ma’am. And I’d like to be the one to show you how to navigate it.”

  “But, I’m not a recording artist. I just sang on my boyfriend’s demo. It’s just a demo.”

  Say demo again, Kelly. You sound suuuper intelligent right now.

  “I understand. And I won’t make any promises. I just know there’s a chance to shift your narrative—if you want to—and I wanted to touch base, see if maybe we could meet and talk about what I do. Then, if that’s good, we can discuss a formal working arrangement.”

  I’m staring at the linoleum in the kitchen, my chin almost on my chest. Do I even want to be recording music for a living?

  “Look, Bob—”

  “Don’t say it, Kelly. I can hear it in your voice. How about this: You give Crash a call and tell him I want to meet, and see what he says.”

  “Um. Okay?”

  “Great. I’ll talk to you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” I need a new word.

  “Bye!”

  “Goodbye.” With a shaking finger, I tap the end-call button, then immediately call Crash.

  “Hey,” his voice, warm and pleased that I called, makes me smile. “What’s up, babe?”

  He shouldn’t call me that. Yet. “Hi, so, I got this call from a guy named Bob Mendelson? And I was wondering—”

  “Bob called you? Kel, that’s awesome! He’s great! Does he want to rep you?”

  “I think so. He says Conrad called him, the guy who did the demo?”

  “That’s fantastic!”

  “The thing is—”

  “Tom! Bob Mendelson called Kelly—he wants to rep her!”

  There’s a deep murmur in the background.

  “Crash?”

  “Sorry, I just know Tom likes Bob.”

  “Okay. So, you think I should talk to him?”

  Crash snorts. “Managers are sharks, Kel. Remember that. But as far as sharks go, he’s a good one to have on your side.” He hesitates.

  “What?”

  “Well . . . Maybe you should know, we asked Sony to let you sing on the single.”

  “What?”

  “Your voice blends so perfectly with mine. And it seemed like a good opportunity to get you some exposure. I mean, if all else fails your YouTube channel will go off, right?” He laughs nervously. I’m torn between the fizz of exhilaration, and an undeniable conviction that this has nothing to do with my talent, and everything to do with Crash’s sway.

  “Crash.”

  “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he says. “I didn’t think anyone would move on it that quick. I was going to talk to you tomorrow. I just wanted you to have the chance, you know?”

  I bite my lip. “Yeah, thanks. So you think I should talk to him?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. A million people out there would kill to talk to him,” he says.

  “Okay, then. Thanks. I guess I’ll call him back.”

  “Let me know how it goes, okay? We’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, but text me and I’ll call you when we’re out.”

  “I will. Are they still mad about the song?”

  His voice goes darker. “Yeah. I mean, they kind of have to be stoked because the publicity is great and YouTube’s monetizing it. But you know how it is. They want to control this stuff and they didn’t get to, so they’ll slap us on the hand.”

  “Well, you let me know how yours goes and I will too, then, I guess.”

  “Cool. Will we see you tonight?”

  I look over my shoulder in the direction where Dan disappeared. “I don’t think so. Tomorrow. After school. Once I’ve got everything sorted out.” I’m behind on homework and with everything going on I don’t know how to get caught back up and get all the new stuff done in this week.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just busy. I’ll text you when I know what this guy has to say.”

  “Okay. Go kick some ass. And remember, Sharks. Don’t let him push you around. If you end up signing with him you need to take control right from the start.”

  Is that what he thought he did with Amber? “Thanks for the advice. I will.”

  We hang up and I stare at the phone for a second, my stomach twisting. But I don’t want to analyze the feelings I’m having, or what they mean about the future, so I just tap the record of Bob’s call. He picks up after a single ring.

  “Kelly, I’m glad you called back.”

  “I’ll be really honest, I don’t have a clue who you are, but I was told you’re worth talking to.”

  He guffaws. It sounds so good, I laugh too.

  Almost an hour later, we’ve arranged to have dinner on Tuesday. Bob will bring the contract and talk me and Dan through it. I was reluctant to bring Dan, but as Bob said, since I’m a minor he’ll have to co-sign the contract anyway.

  We’re getting ready to hang up and I’m feeling oddly hopeful when Bob catches himself.

  “Oh, and if Sony calls you before we meet, about recording that duo, you call me and we’ll move this up, okay? I have a hunch they might jump on that in the morning if the numbers keep rising.”

  “Duo?”

  “Yeah, that YouTube song.”

  “The thing I recorded was just backing vocals. On a demo.”

  “Wait, Kelly, you are Broken Girl Singing, aren’t you?” I can hear the panic in his voice, that he might have had this entire conversation with the wrong person.

  “Yes!” I hurry to reassure him. “But I haven’t sung any duo.”

  There’s a pause on the other end, then, “Have you been on YouTube today?”

  “No.”

  “Kelly, you don’t need to be coy with me. That vlogger named . . . JustATrainspotter? He took your song and Crash’s and put them together. They’re . . . well, it’s obvious they were intended to be played together. You’re a smart cookie. It’ll create a lot of momentum for you. And really generous of Crash to let that go out for free—”

  “What are you talking about?” I squeak, my chest tight. “What mash-up?”

  The next few minutes are a blur. At Bob’s insistence, I bring up YouTube on my phone and find the video he’s talking about.

  Crash’s new song. The one that felt so familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. He wrote it to play over my song. And it’s incredible.

  Call and response. Just like we messed around with on that song about his mom. It tells our story, from different perspectives at the same time. And it makes me cry sheets.

  After I get off the phone with a very bemused Bob, I can’t stop playing it over, and over, and over again.

  In the description, the guy who made it talks about how the dedication on Crash’s song made him wonder who Broken Girl was, so he researched and found my song and did some research on me, found the photo of Tommy at my house, so listened to my songs and, well, he figured out they worked together.

  There are hundreds of comments on the video already, all talking about me and Crash and asking some very scary questions.

  I’m terrified and touched and my YouTube channel is creeping up on thirty thousand subscribers. I don’t know what to do with this.

  Crash did it on purpose. He knew. This song he wrote that
was so different. The one that the label liked. He planned it.

  I press replay again, and let the words sink inside my skin as with every line I sing, Crash’s song responds.

  You had so many words that day

  (You never knew the truth)

  Promises, vows, words were stars

  (The ends, the means, they broke me)

  You had so many things to say

  (You never heard my heart)

  All I heard were lies.

  (I’ll never forgive myself.

  For you.)

  Bury me. (Deep inside)

  Dead and gone

  (For life, for you)

  (I’m in hell)

  Just bury me (In you)

  (I’m in hell) Without you.

  Bury me. (Deep deep down)

  I’m all wrong

  (Without you)

  (There’s no more hell)

  ‘Cause you buried me (Deeper)

  Without you.

  (Now I’ll never)

  (Forever, you)

  I walked past your house today

  (You never saw reality)

  On the map of stars

  (The dark, the beast it owned me)

  Laughing windows, singing strings

  (You never heard my heart)

  I knew it was lies.

  (I’ll never forgive myself.

  For you.)

  I’m shaking, ecstatic and terrified. With trembling fingers, I text Crash the line from his song that lights me up every time.

  I don’t want to never forever you

  My phone, still on silent, lights up a second later. Crash calling.

  “Crash?” My voice breaks.

  “Kelly?” He’s immediately panicked. “What’s wrong? Did Dan—”

  “No! Nothing like that. I just . . . thank you, Crash. For that song. I didn’t know. I didn’t catch it. But they did and it’s huge and I don’t know what to say!”

  “What?”

  “Crash, some guy on YouTube figured out your song and mine go together. He’s posted them as a mash-up and it’s amazing.” My voice gets so weak on that because even though it’s incredible, it’s so scary to me. This is all moving so fast. And this song says so much. And I don’t want to lose forever with him. But I’m so terrified that trying for it won’t work.