by Pratt, Lulu
I wanted to let her know the album would be fine. That my sister would come around and we would begin working more regularly, without outbursts and delays. But I knew I couldn’t guarantee that. Not when my sister cared more about her relationship than the album, and the head producer was dedicated to getting on my last nerve.
So, instead, I asked Sadie what I really wanted to know. “Are you hungry?”
Chapter 13
SADIE
MARTIN’S BBQ JOINT was one of my favorite restaurants in town and arguably the best barbecue in the state. When Wyatt said I could pick a place for lunch, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t need a reason to go to Martin’s BBQ, but showing off the city I loved to Wyatt was the perfect motivation.
On the drive over, he’d told me about his preference for Memphis-style barbecue. I had always found the big comparison laughable. It was like a rivalry between sports teams, but like with sports, I never cared much about it.
“If you want to have the best experience, you should let me order for you,” I said.
We’d just been seated, lucky to find a spot in the lunch time rush. Wyatt looked over his sunglasses before taking them off and setting them on the table between us.
“You know, this will be a good judge of your character. So, go ahead, order for me,” he said, crossing his arms against his chest. His biceps flexed, covered with tattoos that intrigued me. There was a story to them, one I wanted to hear.
“No pressure,” I said sarcastically, just as the waitress approached.
“Hi, can I…” she began her speech before laying eyes on Wyatt. “Oh, my God! I’m a huge fan!”
“Thank you,” he smiled tightly.
“Is Billie here?” she asked, looking over her shoulder, not noticing his facial expression.
“No, Billie won’t be joining us, but I’ll tell her she should come check it out. I like the vibe here,” Wyatt said, bringing a huge smile to the waitress’ face.
The vibe of Martin’s BBQ Joint was what made it one of my favorite restaurants. From the outside, the brick building looked older and more traditional, but inside it was relaxed and fully updated. The hardwood floors and community tables always made it feel like a big party.
“We would love that!” The woman blinked slowly, and for a moment I thought she may cry. “ I follow her online. I love her so much!”
“I’ll be sure to tell her,” Wyatt smiled again.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I got carried away. What can I get y’all?”
“Sadie is going to be ordering for us. She’s the one who recommended this spot. She says it’s the best in Nashville.”
The waitress turned to me, looking as though she’d forgotten I was sitting there. “I like you already!”
I laughed, nudging Wyatt beneath the table. “I like you too. I was thinking he should try a whole hog tray with hush puppies, baked beans and slaw.”
“You’re gonna like that,” she turned back to Wyatt who smiled appreciatively. “And what about you, hun?” she said to me.
“I’ll have the pulled pork shoulder tray and mac and cheese. And we’ll have two sweet teas,” I said, watching as she wrote my order on her notepad.
“You better see if he’ll share some of those hush puppies. They’re to die for,” she said to Wyatt.
“I’ll consider it,” he said with a wink, giving her one last smile.
As soon as the waitress left, a group of girls I imagined to be in high school rushed over to the table, gushing over Wyatt. “Hi! We’re really big fans. Could we just get a picture?” one asked.
“Of course,” Wyatt smiled, welcoming them to swarm him. The girl shoved a phone at me, and I stood to get a few shots of them standing together. I noticed that he kept his hands in his front pockets while the three girls were squished as close to him as possible.
A weird feeling tugged at my stomach, annoyed by all the female attention he was receiving. It was absurd to be jealous about his fans, especially considering Wyatt was my boss, but there was something undeniably bothering me.
“Thanks so much!” one said to Wyatt when I handed her the phone back. “We can’t wait to hear the new album!” another added before they left.
“This is when I need my sister,” Wyatt said once they were out of earshot. “She lives for this type of stuff. I hate it.”
“Really? Isn’t it the dream to be recognized for your work?” I asked, grateful to no longer feel the jealousy bubbling up.
“They don’t care about my songs. They just care about the fame. They want a photo to post online, that’s it.” He shook his head, moving a napkin dispenser as the waitress returned with our drinks.
“The one girl said she was waiting for the new album,” I said, reminding him that she had mentioned his music.
“Trust me, there’s a different feeling when someone loves your music. It’s like they see you, the real you. Then there are the fans who just follow trends. They like me because there’s social currency associated with it. They’ll post that photo and get likes, and that’s all they want,” he said.
“You’re like a purist when it comes to music. All anyone talks about now is social media and their followers.” I was shocked by how unaffected he was by his fame. We’d been getting stares from the moment we walked in, but Wyatt didn’t get a big head or full of himself. It was impressive. I’d seen people behave worse when given less attention.
“Believe me, I know. Billie is all about her following, impressions, and every other statistic. I can’t really make sense of it.” He paused, drinking the iced tea before continuing. “It’s like she’s started to resent me for being focused on music. That’s how it’s always been. She has a great voice, but she’s not really into the grind of being an artist. She doesn’t like recording, she hates touring, and she’s never bothered to learn the business side of things. But social media? Twitter? Instagram? And the fame that comes with the success? She’s loved them from the beginning.”
I nodded, careful not to take sides in the matter. I knew better than to get involved in a sibling disagreement. I felt privileged that Wyatt trusted me to confide it. The lunch crowd meant that the table next to us couldn’t hear us chat, the chaos of loud conversations and music creating a wall of privacy.
“I think she sees the music as my thing that she gets to play a part in. But the fame? And her social media following? That’s all hers, something completely independent of me.”
“That makes sense. She wants to have her own thing,” I added, repeating his conclusion.
“Yeah, but I never wanted her to feel like she wasn’t important in the music, you know? I tried to make it clear from the beginning that we were partners, equal in the group.”
I could tell he felt deeply about the conflict and his relationship with his sister. He was a good brother, that much was clear. It was endearing seeing him so empathetic, trying to understand Billie. He was so talented, I could understand her feeling outshined by him.
“Of course. I get that from how hard you’ve been trying to get her in the studio,” I said.
“I just want her to have something of her own. I don’t want her following after her boyfriend. But I guess the music career doesn’t have to be her thing. Hell, she makes enough from her Instagram to never have to sing another song,” he chuckled at the realization. “I just want her to be happy, really. That’s it. And if singing isn’t going to do that, I’m fine with it. Billie will always be a star regardless. She was born to shine.”
The waitress appeared with our food, and we both moved to make room on the table for the large plates. Martin’s BBQ Joint was known for their large servings, the true Southern way.
“You know, I was impressed with your order,” Wyatt said after the waitress left us.
“Oh yeah?” I smiled, beaming with pride.
“Whole hog sounds like a meal I’d love every time,” he grinned. “I just wish Nashville didn’t have to make this vinegar barbecue sauce.”
F
rowning, I looked at the small cup of extra sauce on the edge of my plate. “What do you mean? How is it supposed to be?”
“In Memphis, we use tomato-based sauce. It’s thicker, and better.”
“Well, after one bite of that, I don’t think you’ll be missing anything about Memphis barbecue. That there is the best pork in Tennessee,” I teased, pleased with myself for picking his order.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Wyatt said as he shoved his fork into the meat with a smile.
Chapter 14
WYATT
IT WAS UNUSUAL for Mitchell to need to drop by my house. He usually stopped by the studio sessions, but he had called asking to come by, saying he needed to talk to me in private about something. I’d agreed, worried it had to do with the studio sessions we’d discussed. I was looking forward to recording this week and didn’t want to have to deal with further delays.
“So, how is everything?” I asked, leading him through my rental home. It was a huge five-bedroom house, paid for by the label. Back home, I lived more modestly and out of the way in a small place surrounded by forest. In Nashville, it was more about convenience, so being located near the studio was vital.
“I wanted to talk to you about Billie,” Mitchell said when we reached the bar area at the back of the house.
“Yeah? What about her?”
“It’s like she’s not really into the brand this group has become. You know better than anyone, it’s about so much more than the music these days. But your sister doesn’t seem committed to either,” Mitchell continued as I poured us each a glass of bourbon, eyeing him closely.
“She came to the last studio session,” I told him, deciding not to mention our blow up and her subsequent departure.
“Well, that’s good to hear. That’s a start for sure. We want her at the sessions, that’s important. But you know there is a script when it comes to the image, and in many ways, that’s even more important than the music. There’s a way you both need to appear for optimum results.”
Mitchell took the glass of bourbon, waiting until I sipped from the glass to do the same. Waiting to speak, I allowed the alcohol to calm me, because my ideal reaction was unacceptable. I couldn’t believe his arrogance to think that he could come to me to complain about my twin sister.
No matter how frustrated I was with her lack of commitment to the album, I was always going to be on her side as far as the label was concerned. Mitchell had a way of pretending we were friends when he needed something from me. I never for a second was confused about the role he played. Mitchell was nothing more than an extension of the record label – a handler to report back to the bosses on the status of their investment.
“So, what about her image isn’t in line with the brand? Is there something specific she needs to change?” I asked, hoping to push him further.
I wanted Mitchell to reveal the true purpose of his visit, now that it was clear it had nothing to do with the album. He was displeased with something Billie had done, and I wanted him on record stated it as clearly as possible.
“Well, ya know,” he tilted his head left, and then right. He was back-peddling before he even started. I finished my drink without taking my eyes off him. “She’s grown such a large following over the past couple of years. Even without the music, she’s a major celebrity.”
He chuckled, but I knew he did not find it funny. The label loved to keep us dependent on them, which required staying one dimensional. Artists like me, who depended on continually putting out music, were their ideal employees. Billie had outsmarted them by building her own brand and following.
Whether she released any new music or not, Billie had fans who cared about every move she made. What clothes she wore, what food she ate, what items she had laying about her place. It was dangerous for someone in Mitchell’s position. It made him, and the label, dispensable. They liked it the other way around, with artists helpless without their support.
“I thought the label wanted us to engage with fans. You’re always getting on me about not posting enough,” I continued, pouring more bourbon in my glass. I was goading him, because of course I knew exactly what Mitchell was insinuating.
“Well, yes,” he paused, finishing his drink and then extending the glass in a silent request for another. Obliging him, I poured the bourbon, noticing sweat on his forehead. He was nervous, aware that he was stepping into an uncomfortable territory.
“You post about music, and upcoming tour dates or the release of a new video when you do engage online. It’s on brand, targeted towards the audience and in line with the narrative we want to tell. Most of your posts are created by our social media team, which means they’re damn near perfect.”
“But I don’t post enough,” I added, leading him right where I wanted him.
“You could be more present online, for sure. There’s an untouched market of your fanbase that wants to hear from you. They want to know what you’re doing and what you’re wearing. It sounds crazy, I know, but they care about everything. If you could share that, it would help convert casual listeners into your base.”
“So, you want me to do exactly what my sister is doing now?” I asked, stunning him. Mitchell’s cheeks reddened, realizing he’d walked into my trap.
Because he was refusing to say out right what he didn’t like about Billie’s social media, it was easy to twist his words. He drank the bourbon in one gulp, wiping his forehead before explaining.
“Look, it’s her inclusion of her boyfriend that makes things difficult,” he finally said what he’d been tiptoeing around.
“What about Brad is difficult, Mitchell?”
“Well, the fans like to admire her, ya know? The women want to be her and the men want to date her. Billie’s gorgeous and, in their far-off minds, attainable. When she flaunts her relationship, it reminds them that they could never have her, ruining the fantasy.”
It never ceased to amaze me how much the label wished to control your life. The music wasn’t enough anymore. They needed to schedule your sponsorships and social media. They wanted to create an entire new personality for artists, and if you didn’t fall in line with it, they often found ways to replace you.
“Billie is much more than bait for fans, Mitchell,” I said, hearing the disappointment in my voice.
“Right. I know that, Wyatt. We all know that,” he cowered.
“Her relationship is important to her, and she wants to share it. Fans can always feel when something isn’t genuine. She’s connecting because she’s being true to herself and sharing her actual life.”
“We get that. I get that. But, Wyatt, you can’t tell me Brad doesn’t get on your nerves sometimes,” he reached across the bar, playfully shoving my arm. He was trying for the friend card again, but a real friend would know to never try to pit me against my sister. It would never work.
“If Billie is happy, I’m happy. I don’t want her to have to choose between what makes her happy and what you want. If she wants to post about her boyfriend and focus on her relationship, I support her. I always support my sister.”
Mitchell nodded quickly. It was evident he was not making any progress with me. There was no way I would ever speak poorly about my sister, even if it was how I truly felt. Then I thought of how honest and vulnerable I had been with Sadie. She was the only person I’d confided in about Billie and her lack of commitment to the album.
To my surprise, Sadie didn’t judge me. Even better, she didn’t jump on the bandwagon and begin talking negatively about Billie. She tried to help me see her side, defending my sister even though she had been less than kind to her.
“Let’s forget about it,” Mitchell changed the subject. “You’re right. Authenticity always connects. Let’s just focus on the music and go from there. How are the songs coming along, by the way?”
“I’ve gotten like three new songs composed, almost ready for demos.” Reaching in my back pocket, I pulled out my phone, skimming through my notes.
When
I couldn’t find the lyrics, I looked in the small notebook I always carried to capture thoughts I later used as inspiration. I couldn’t find them anywhere, which pissed me off.
“I’ll tell you about it later. I can’t find the notes I made about it. But I think we’ll have something to listen to by the end of the week.”
“No problem. I need to get out of here anyway. Let me know when you’ve got something for me. I can’t wait to hear it!” Mitchell excitedly shook my hand before letting himself out. His driver had been waiting in my driveway patiently.
Before his car pulled away, I remembered the journal I’d used at the last session. It was on the piano, which made me wonder if it belonged to Sadie. With my phone in my hand, I dialed her number.
“Hey,” she picked up on the second ring.
“Hey,” I said, pausing at the soft sound of her voice. She even sounded attractive. “I was looking for some notes I made during the last session. They were in a red leather notebook. Was that yours?”
“Yeah, it’s one of my notebooks. Do you need them now? I can bring it to the studio.”
“Oh, I’m not at the studio. I’m at home. Mitchell just came by and I wanted to show him what I’d been working on.”
“Well, I’m out now. But when I get done, I can swing by and bring it to you wherever you are.”
“Really? That would be great, but I don’t want you going out of your way,” I warned her. I’d already been feeling guilty about how many random requests I’d asked of Sadie. Sessions at her house, impromptu lunches, and listening to me vent.
“It’s not a problem, Wyatt. Just text me your address. I’ll stop by in an hour or two.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
We ended the call, and I texted her immediately. Besides my sister and Mitchell, she would be my first guest. Suddenly, I felt nervous, wondering if she’d like the place. I had to remind myself she was a collaborator. Nothing more.
Chapter 15
SADIE