by Megan Ryder
“Piper has a good solo career going. Why should she start a partnership? It made sense for us, June. At the time, we were stronger together. She might just be his stepping stone,” Carter pointed out.
“I don’t want to use anyone to get ahead. I make it on my own or not at all,” Ty protested, struggling to his feet to pace in front of the fireplace.
Piper sighed. This was not going as she had hoped. “So, we have a few ideas for you, Ty. Ways to start to generate some buzz. First, of course, we want to record the song. You and I as a duet. We’ll talk with Darren and get a contract in place, if you want to have him manage you too. Then we talked about having you play at a couple of smaller venues where some up-and-coming musicians play. It’s a great way to get attention and get some traction.”
She held her breath, waiting to hear his thoughts. She had already prepared him for most of this, especially since he and Darren had already had a business conversation back in Montana with Hailey sitting in to ask some questions about money and legalities, as best she could. Piper hadn’t wanted to push him too far out of his comfort zone, trying to stick to things he already knew.
He stopped in front of the stone fireplace and stared at the empty hearth. Finally, he turned and nodded. “All of that sounds fine. It’s basically what we already discussed. But I want to lock down that song. It’s really Tara and West’s song, not ours.”
Her mother opened her mouth to protest, but Piper gave her a warning look and she subsided, with a slightly disgruntled look. “Fine. Fortunately, we’re all in town for the next few months and can provide some support if you need it. Just let us know how we can help.”
Her father asked Ty to show him his guitar, and they disappeared to the office, with Mom following. Piper slid down sideways into the chair and let her head fall back. “God, I didn’t realize how uncomfortable these chairs are.”
Colt just laughed. “As compared to that conversation? I think the chairs are way more comfortable.” He got up and slid into the chair next to her and she swung around to face him. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, lil’ bit? He doesn’t seem comfortable here.”
“Of course he’s not comfortable here. He’s a cowboy from Montana. This is like Mars for him. But he sings amazingly and has such talent. He can do so much more than rope cows.”
Colt sipped his beer and set it down on the coffee table. “I get that he’s handsome or whatever you think. He’s a damned sight better than that pretty boy you had before, so good job there. But are you just trying to keep him around because you want to see where it’s going? We both know how this town, this industry, can chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Look, it’s true I want to see where this could go, and a long-distance relationship would be damned hard. But have you heard him sing? He has such emotion in his voice. He sang your song, the one you won a CMA Song of the Year for: ‘Set Me Free.’ Damned if he didn’t sing it better than you did. Way better. If he gets the right songs, he could go far.” She sighed, squirming to get comfortable, missing the couch in her cabin in Montana. “I’m under no illusions. I’m a decent singer, but I’m not a great performer. But with him, I’m better. Yes, he could help resurrect my career. Or, he could eclipse my career and be better than I am, alone. If he wants it.”
“Does he?” Colt asked quietly. “Because he sure seems torn.”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Was Ty doing this for him or for her?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Piper sighed in the recording booth and watched Ty struggle with the song for the fourth time. He waved off the other guitar player, the lead guitarist from her backup band, and stalked away to fiddle with his own guitar. Alone. They had decided to have a practice session in the studio with her backup band, the same group they might use at a couple of venues, so he could get accustomed to playing with them. Normally, when they recorded, they’d layer in the other sounds later, but Ty needed some time to get to know the band.
If only things were going better.
Darren gave her an arched look that translated to get in there and do something. He’d never say anything in front of the staff, never let them know he was worried, but it was obvious.
She stood. “Let’s take five, everyone.”
The room cleared and she headed into the studio with a couple of bottles of water. Ty perched on a stool, his guitar on his knee, not doing anything. She sat in the chair kitty-corner to him and took a deep swallow of the water. After a moment, he opened the other bottle and drank.
“This isn’t working.”
“Harder than you thought, huh?”
He gave a wry grin. “Come to gloat? When I thought you were no more than a dancing poodle?”
She laughed and smacked his leg. “You never actually said that, I don’t think. And if you thought it, don’t tell me. So, what’s wrong? New band? Not feeling the music?”
He laid the guitar in the stand and began to pace the small space, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m just not feeling any of it.”
She nodded. “Performance anxiety. All guys get it.” He scowled at her, and she just laughed. “Come on, Ty. Lighten up a bit. That’s the real issue. You’re putting all of this pressure on yourself, and some days it just doesn’t happen. You’re getting used to a lot of new things. Ease up. Let’s try something new.”
She handed him his guitar and she grabbed hers. “Let’s just play, on the stools. You and me. No one else.” She pulled up two stools and sat on one of them, gesturing to the other. Then she started strumming the introductory chords to “Cold Hands, Warm Heart,” the first duet they sang together.
He sighed and slid onto the other stool, wrapping a leg around the base. Slowly, he settled into the chords and they started to sing, effortlessly blending their voices and guitars into the duet that had made her parents famous. As the song ended, clapping filled the small space; the band had filtered in and the recording booth had filled.
Darren leaned forward, pressing the intercom. “Now, that’s what we’ve been waiting for.”
Jake, the band’s guitarist, came forward. “Never heard that song sung quite that way, even by your parents, Piper. That was awesome. Grab some chairs, guys. Let’s gather round and jam a little. Let’s figure out this sound. It’s a little different than what we’ve been playing.”
Piper eased back, letting Ty and the group cycle through a few songs to get a feel for Ty’s take on the songs and how he played. She quietly closed the door and went back to the recording booth to rejoin Darren, who stared at her with new respect.
“Nice job. You settled him right down and got this whole session back on track.”
She shrugged, feeling a little left out from the whole process, despite the praise from Darren. She had never had the kind of interaction and camaraderie Ty was having with the group, and she had toured with them for the past three albums. Was it a guy thing or something else?
“I know Ty’s sound, and the group is a little too used to my songs, which are definitely different than Ty’s.”
Darren only looked thoughtful. “You even sounded different, more range in fact. Maybe a remix of that song would be great for your album, and his if we can get one made. You guys should play that at the Cafe this week.”
She froze and stared at him. “The Cafe? You got him into the Bluebird? I thought they were booked. How is that possible?”
Darren grinned. “I got you both booked, together. One of my other singers had to cancel at the last moment so I called in a favor and asked if I could slip you in as a replacement. They were thrilled, especially when I promised both of you would sing that wedding song. You don’t understand how many people loved that song.”
She let out a laugh and hugged him. “Sometimes you really piss me off and then you go and do something like this.”
“Just make sure he’s ready. It would help if he had something original
to play.”
She turned and watched Ty laughing with the guys. “He’ll be ready. I can’t promise on something else original though.”
Darren sighed. “Next time.”
She hoped there would be a next time. Both of them had a lot riding on the Bluebird.
*
Ty stretched out on the chaise longue on the deck where he was supposed to be working on material to play later that night, only he couldn’t get his head straight, not here. He needed someone else for that. Piper had disappeared again, back to the studio by herself this time, to prepare for the big appearance later that day, since she had top billing. The whole process stuck in his gut, churning. Part of it was certainly nerves over the upcoming show but the rest…well, that was something else entirely, something he wasn’t sure he could clearly articulate. Maybe someone else could help.
He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. Within a few rings, a small boy answered. “Uncle Ty? How’s Nashville?”
Ty grinned, couldn’t help it. “It’s great, A.J. How’s school going?”
“Aw, that’s done. Me and Dundee have been hanging around trying not to cause trouble, helping in the barn,” A.J. continued. “Dundee is doing good, but I think he misses you.”
That explained it. A.J. must be helping Chase with the horses and Chase asked A.J. to answer the phone. “I miss him too. You take extra good care of him and give him lots of attention, okay?”
“I will. You want to talk to Dad?”
Ty’s heart clenched. He remembered Chase telling them A.J. had asked if he could do that after the wedding, even though Chase wasn’t his real dad, and Chase had teared up. Ty never thought he’d see his brother with tears unless he’d been kicked by a cow. But he’d now seen it twice.
“Ty? Didn’t expect to hear from you. Things going okay?” Chase’s voice came over the phone, and Ty heard horses in the background.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Nah, I just finished putting Ginger through her paces. Hang on.” Ty could hear muffled voices. “I sent A.J. and Dundee out to play. He’s really enjoying your dog. I think I’ll have to get him one unless you’re not coming back anytime soon?”
The statement ended on a question, Chase’s oh so subtle way of probing. “You’ve gotten soft since you’ve gotten married. So soft and gentle, brother. Everything is fine. I had some time and thought I’d check in.”
Chase made a noise. “West and Tara got back last night. Never seen West so relaxed. He didn’t even rush out to check on his babies until this morning.”
Ty chuckled. “Are you sure it was West who came back and not an alien who took over his body?”
“We wondered the same thing. But he’s out checking the herd as of the ass-crack of dawn today so I think we’re safe. So, tell me about Nashville. What’s going on?”
Ty settled into the dark blue cushion, trying to find a comfortable spot where he wasn’t completely swallowed by the overstuffed chair. “Everything is great. Hotter than I’m used to, slower. Less to do. Spending some time in the recording studio getting used to a new backup band. We’re playing at some cafe or something tonight. Guess it’s a big deal or something. Piper sure has a bug up her ass about it, practicing like crazy the past few days.”
“Piper? I thought you were playing. And a cafe? Shoot, Ty, you can handle that in your sleep if you can play at The Rock with all of us throwing shit at you.”
Ty sighed, not sure how to put it into words. “It’s a pretty exclusive place and a major deal. Piper acted like it was the Grand Ole Opry itself, or close enough, especially for my first appearance. We got in under her name. I’m riding her coattails.” The words seemed to stick in his throat, but he got them out anyway. Maybe her father was right. Maybe he was using her, trading on her name, her connections, just to get ahead. His talent might have nothing to do with any of this. Could he be putting her at risk, jeopardizing her future, especially if he crashed and burned spectacularly?
Chase made another noise. “And that’s what’s bothering you? That you need Piper to get you into places?”
Ty pushed himself up, struggling a bit with the cushion until he was in a sitting position. “It’s not just that. I mean, she has to perform there, too, and she hates performing. She just got off a long tour and deserves some down-time, but I’m dragging her ass back out on stage.”
“Are you forcing her out there, or did she volunteer? You know, we all need a little help once in a while. No one gets anywhere without assistance.” Chase gave a quick, low laugh. “Man, when I first went on the bull-riding circuit, I was a dumbass kid who thought I knew everything. I mean, how hard could it be to ride a bull for eight seconds, right? You climb on and hold the rope, swing your arms a little to look good and hop off. I was alone the first couple of years; Adam hadn’t joined me. So, I didn’t have anyone to ground me, not that Adam was the grounding type.”
Chase let out a breath. “Anyway, I was hanging with the wrong crowd, drinking, sleeping with any girl I could, and not hanging on to the bulls like I should. And losing. Badly. And all of us resented the hell out of those Brazilians. They were kicking our asses. One day, an old-timer came up to the fence while I was watching one of those guys and said, ‘You know why they’re kicking our butts? Because they do it right.’”
“Chase, I’m not riding bulls. I’m playing music. It’s different.”
“No, it’s not. See, the Brazilians work together. Before they come up here, they help each other, teach each other. They stick together on the road and on off days or the off-season, they hang together and work on technique. See, to them, it’s more than fun. It’s serious. That old-timer, he took me under his wing and started teaching me about the bulls, how to analyze them, how to prepare for a ride, and how to ride them. I traveled with him that whole year, and I learned so much. And I started winning. Would have never done that if he hadn’t given me a leg up.”
“You think I need to let Piper do this, just give up and let her be miserable.”
Chase sighed, an exasperated sound. “Is she miserable? Have you even asked her? I think you need to talk to her and ask her how she feels about this whole thing. Look, you two don’t know each other very well, but I can’t imagine Piper doing anything she doesn’t want to do.”
Ty stared out past the lawn to the river that wound its way by the house. “I don’t know. She’s different here. I barely see her, and she has a lot going on.”
“Well, of course she does. That’s her home and her business. No different than you here, with the ranch. Talk to her, okay? See where she’s at with everything.”
“Man, you have grown soft. Marriage has changed you.”
Chase laughed, sounding so at ease and relaxed, completely different than before when everyone thought he was easygoing and happy, but he was actually brittle and scarred. Hailey had healed him, brought him peace, and Ty envied him and was grateful for it too.
“You wish you were this lucky. Now, you got the music, right?”
Ty swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. How long had you guys been waiting on that?”
“It was all West and Douglas. Well, Douglas really. West only found out a few months before Douglas died. He told West that he would know when to give it to you. Hope it was okay.” Chase sounded tentative, nervous.
Ty cleared his throat. “Yeah, it was fine.”
“Good. Now, Hailey just came in and reminded me to tell you not to sign anything beyond what we talked about. Don’t let those city boys con you into anything. Got it?”
“We love you, Chase!” Hailey yelled from the background.
“Bro, I am not saying it. Don’t wait for it. Let us know how it goes. And when you play the Opry, then we’ll come down, even if it’s calving season. West too.”
Ty laughed and ended the call. Yeah, calling home always put things in perspective, even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear. Maybe it was time to look at the old music, time to
put his old ghosts to rest. Then he’d deal with Piper.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ty had spent the past couple of days since the recording session in an ever-increasing state of anxiety. He had practiced over and over, trying to be ready for his first Nashville appearance, even spending some time with Colt, Piper’s brother, and the guys from the backup band. Colt had been the one to impress upon him the importance of the Bluebird and the impact it could have on his potential career. His stress level was growing, even as Colt and Piper tried to reduce it. Darren didn’t help, strongly suggesting that he have new songs, but Piper overruled him, saying two days wasn’t enough time to prepare. But the Bluebird preferred original music, so the burden was on Piper and he would only spotlight a few songs, something to tease the crowd.
Again, he was putting Piper in an uncomfortable situation to further his own situation, especially when she was not thrilled about performances. Yet Piper had thrown herself into preparations, spending time herself at the studio, looking for something new to play, to make the appearance special.
And he felt like a burden, which just pissed him off.
The Bluebird Cafe in its strip mall setting and canvas awning seemed like such a small place to create such nerves in everyone. They headed inside and met up with Colt and Piper’s parents, who were already seated at a round table in a corner. This seemed like such a small place to have such a big impact on a musician’s career. Maybe he was missing something.
Ty leaned over to Piper when they were seated. “I don’t understand. You could fit four of these places inside of The Rock. Are we in the right place?”
Colt grinned. “There are a ton of these little places all over Nashville for up-and-coming singers and songwriters. But the Bluebird is known as one of the best places to hear the songwriters behind the hits, and even the big names stop by. It’s very exclusive. You’re lucky to get in here.”
Piper nodded. “I’ve only played here once. Same with Colt. It’s difficult to get in. But this could be a great shot for you.”