by Elicia Hyder
I plopped back down in my seat and attempted to check my hair in the reflection of my computer monitor.
“You look gorgeous, dah’ling,” Ava said dramatically at my door once again.
I stood. “I get nervous around clients.”
She waved her hand like it was no big deal. “Jake is the last client you ever need to worry about in this office.”
Easy for her to say. She wore a black pencil skirt and a sleeveless ivory cowl-neck sweater. She looked like Nashville’s modern-day tribute to Audrey Hepburn with her flawless makeup and her smooth dark hair up in a twist. Wait. “Ava and Audrey,” I said, closing my door behind us as we walked out. “Are you two named after the actresses?”
She smiled and gave a slight nod. “Our mother was obsessed with the Golden Age of Hollywood. We have a brother named Cary and had a Himalayan cat named Clark Gable.”
“That’s hilarious. Did you call him Clark?”
She shook her head. “Nope.” We paused at Claire’s desk on our way out of the building. “Claire, I probably won’t be back in today,” Ava said. “But if Jim Beale or anyone else from Torrent calls, please have them call me on my cell phone.”
Claire scribbled some notes on the pad of paper. “Do they have your cell number or should I give it out?”
“They should have it, but if they don’t, give it to them,” Ava said.
Claire looked at me. “Are you coming back today?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’ll hopefully be back in a couple of hours.”
“Do you have a lot of work to get done?” Ava asked, holding the door open for me as we exited the reception area.
“Unfortunately. Audrey has me rewriting all of our clients’ marketing plans to include live video.”
She pressed the button for the elevator. “She mentioned something about that. She wants to use it with everyone now?”
I nodded.
“Melvin Brooks? Does he even have a computer?”
“No, and he still uses a flip phone. I’m putting it on the plan just so I can turn it in and she can see how ridiculous it is.”
She laughed as we got on the elevator. “You’re a fast learner, Lucy.”
Ava drove a sleek, expensive black sports car that I’d often seen parked in a reserved space in the garage. Inside it smelled like new leather and money. So I assumed the hassle of putting up with her sister had its perks. “Was your sister always so…” I struggled to find a word that fit Audrey that wouldn’t risk me getting fired.
“Bitchy?” Ava asked with a laugh as she merged onto I-65 South.
I glanced out the window to hide a smile. “Well, I was going to say something else, but—”
“Why bother? Bitchy fits.”
I laughed.
“And no, she wasn’t always so difficult.” She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and checked her blind spot to change lanes. “I think it’s the pressure she puts on herself. She built the company out of nothing, you know?”
I shook my head. “All I really know about the company is what’s on the website, and despite my pleas for more content, that’s not much.”
She smiled but didn’t look at me. “There’s a reason for that. Audrey has a past in this town that she’d like to keep buried as much as possible.”
My mouth gaped a bit. “Do tell.”
“Have you ever heard of the band Sugar Creek?” she asked.
I thought for a second. “It sounds familiar.”
“Back in the nineties, they were a country duo formed by two Nashville newcomers, Jana Carter and…”
“Don’t tell me, your sister?”
“Audrey Scott,” she said.
I turned all the way toward her in my seat. “Audrey was in a band with Jana Carter? Well, shit. That explains a lot.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Every single time Jana does something online, Audrey bitches me out for us not doing it better. The whole live-video thing started with her.” I gripped my forehead. “I can’t even begin to believe Audrey was ever in a band.”
“Siri, play ‘Bleeding Heart’ by Sugar Creek,” Ava spoke to her phone. A familiar tune flooded through the speakers.
I laughed. “Shut up! I know this song!”
“They even won an ACM award for Best New Artist that year,” she said.
She pointed at me. “If you ever dare tell a soul that I told you, I’ll deny it.”
“I’ll never tell.” We listened to the song for a moment in silence. “What happened to them?” I finally asked.
“Well, Audrey was always interested in the business side of things. She already had an MBA by then, so she was really good at it. Todd Calaway, Sugar Creek’s manager and Jana’s boyfriend at the time, didn’t like that Audrey was doing a better job than he was. He encouraged Jana to go solo, and the rest is history.”
“Wow,” I said.
“I think it’s what drives Audrey still. It’s like she always has something to prove to the music business, that not only Jana made the right choice, but so did she.”
“That makes sense.” I’d felt that way about moving away from home the first time. Like I needed to be super successful to prove to everyone that I made the right decision. That I was truly destined for bigger things than Riverbend. And I’d accomplished it, for the most part. I’d graduated college and gotten a great job far away from home. Then Mom got sick, and even though I’d only returned to the small-town life to help take care of her, in a way, it still felt like defeat. When Dad’s sudden remarriage gave me the excuse I needed to escape from Riverbend again, that same determination returned tenfold. It was what drove me at my job, and was probably what drove me at roller derby too.
“What happened with Jana and Todd Calaway?” I asked.
“They were together till she signed with Shoestring Records. Then she dumped him and got a new manager.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Kind of ironic given recent events in your love life.”
She sighed. “It’s more ironic than you think. Guess who Lawson signed with?”
I clapped my hand over my mouth. “No.”
“Todd swooped in the moment news of our failed wedding hit TMZ.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head.
For the rest of the drive, Ava talked about the music business and the fiasco her personal life had stirred in it. She barely touched on the reasons she’d broken up with Lawson Young, and still, if I didn’t feel bad for her already every time I heard “Bitch, Please” on the radio, I certainly did by the time we got off the interstate in Franklin.
“This is it,” Ava announced a little while later when we pulled up to a tall iron gate.
She pressed a button that was clipped to her visor, and the gate slowly rolled to the side. I gulped. “Do you ever get nervous?” I asked her. “Around celebrities all the time?”
“Around Jake?” She laughed. “Hell no. The magic fades quickly after someone has thrown up on your shoes—more than once.”
“Eww,” I said.
She drove down the long cobblestone driveway. “I’ve known Jake since before he had a pot to pee in. I was working at a bar on Broadway during college, and he was a regular act there on Friday nights.” She chuckled quietly. “We were kids then. Barely old enough to drink.”
Ava put the car in park, in the dead center of the circular driveway, right in front of the steps to the front door. “Come on. It’s time to ruin your fantasies about Nashville’s elite.”
*
Jake Barrett, number sixteen on People Magazine’s current list of Most Beautiful People, opened his front door wearing gray sweatpants that left not enough to the imagination, a Dallas Cowboys jersey older than me, and Adidas flip-flops over white tube socks. It was like Ava Scott had made me a promise about bursting my celebrity bubble, then shifted the universe to keep it.
“Ava,” Jake said, stepping onto his welcome mat that read COME BACK WITH A WARRANT. He wrapped his arms around her, e
xposing a hole in the jersey’s armpit big enough to fit my head.
“You smell.” She pushed him back a step. “I told you to take a shower before we got here.”
He strained his eyes, looking down at the spot on his wrist where a watch was not. “What time is it?”
“Ten forty-five,” she said.
He groaned. “God, it’s so early.” He raked his fingers through his wild brown hair and finally noticed me standing on the step behind my boss. “Well, hello there. What’s your name?” His eyes were bloodshot and heavy.
“Jake, this is Lucy from my office,” Ava announced.
He flashed his superstar grin. “Hello, Lucy.”
I gave a small wave.
“She’s very unimpressed to meet you,” Ava said, flashing a knowing smile at me over her shoulder. Then she pushed him aside and led the way into his foyer.
His house was beautiful. Chocolate wooden floors, high ceilings, and stone archways. But wow, he needed a housekeeper. Ava knelt down and picked up a lone pink sparkly stiletto off the floor and dangled it off her fingertip. “I don’t even want to know,” she said, tossing it against the wall by the door.
“You missed one hell of a party last night, Ava,” he said, scratching his chest and yawning so wide I could count his fillings.
She pointed toward a hallway. “Please go take a shower and put on decent clothes.”
Jake put his arm around her waist. “Wanna come wash my back?”
Her face soured. “Gross.”
He laughed and kissed the side of her forehead. “Give me five minutes.”
She held her nose. “Please, dear god, take ten.”
“Make yourselves comfortable!” he called, walking toward the hallway.
“The camera and lighting guys will be here at eleven!” she yelled.
“Yes, ma’am!”
I looked at Ava when he was gone. “Camera and lights?”
She nodded. “For the video.”
“Whose idea was that?” I asked.
“Audrey’s.”
I shook my head. “You can’t advertise a live video with a full-production ad clip. It needs to be casual and definitely unedited.”
She thought for a second. “You know, what? You’re exactly right.” She pulled her phone from her purse and tapped the screen. “I’m going to call Maurice and cancel.”
“Will I get in trouble?” I asked.
“I’ll take the blame if Audrey’s mad. We’ll add it to my list of transgressions.” She laughed, then spoke into the phone. “Hey Mo, it’s Ava…”
While she was on the phone, I helped myself to a tour of Jake’s living room. There was a black baby-grand piano in the corner and overstuffed leather furniture centered around the largest flat screen TV I’d ever seen in my life. It was mounted on the stone fireplace, up above the mantle that held three CMA awards and, holy shit, a Grammy.
I walked into Jake’s massive kitchen. I’d only ever seen anything like it on the Food Network. The Food Network kitchens were much cleaner, however. Jake’s marble countertops were covered with beer cans and half-eaten trays of stale-looking wings and wilted fruit. Beyond them, his refrigerator caught my eye. It was large and steel with a touch screen that covered one of its French doors. For a second, I wondered if it might actually be Optimus Prime’s culinary sister. On the front was a magnet holding a picture. The magnet had a chicken on it, and the photo was of Jake kissing the cheek of another woman with graying brown hair.
“It’s a chick magnet.” Jake’s voice behind me almost made me yelp.
I grabbed at my chest as I turned around. His hair was wet and standing up in a thousand directions. He was wearing nice designer jeans and a black T-shirt that was so tight it clung to all the reasons he was in People Magazine. “You startled me,” I said, panting.
“And that’s my mom,” he said, pointing the photo.
How sweet, I thought. “Really?”
He laughed. “No. That’s Loretta Lynn.”
I looked at the photo again. It was Loretta Lynn.
“Where’s Ava?” he asked, looking around the kitchen.
“I’m here.” Ava walked into the room and dropped her purse on the lone clear spot on the counter—next to a full laundry basket and a half-eaten bowl of fruit salad crowned with a woman’s pink bikini top. “The camera crew is canceled.”
He held up his hands. “Then why did you wake me up?”
“Lucy’s going to shoot it on her phone,” Ava said.
My eyes widened. “I am?”
“Sure. Tell him what to do,” she said, pointing at Jake.
He stretched his arms wide. “I’m all yours, Lucy. Direct me.”
Oh boy.
I cleared my throat. “OK, well, where are you most comfortable in the house?”
Jake cocked an evil grin and winked at me.
“Oh my god,” Ava said with a groan. “The bar. He’s most comfortable at the bar out back by the pool.”
I laughed. “All right. Outside is good.” I looked at Jake. “We need to shoot two different videos to post on two different days, so can you grab another shirt?”
“Here.” Ava reached into the laundry basket and tossed over a fleck of fabric I wasn’t sure would even fit me. “You can wear this one.”
He shook out the blue T-shirt. “This one has a logo on it.” It was a Bud Light brand.
“Then here.” Ava threw him another shirt, rolling her eyes. “And I swear, I’m sending Happy Maids over here as soon as they’re available.”
“Oh, I love this one,” Jake said. The shirt he was holding up was red with white letters that read HUG DEALER. He grinned at me. “The ladies love it.”
“I’ll bet they do,” I replied. “You ready?”
He gestured for me to go first. “Lead the way.”
Ava huffed and grabbed his arm. “She doesn’t know where she’s going, you dumb idiot.”
He laughed. “Oh yeah.” He draped his arm over her shoulders. “It’s a good thing I’m cute, right?”
“You’re impossible,” she said.
I followed them down a hallway to a door that led out to a huge open concrete patio. There was a large pool with a waterfall and built-in hot tub. Next to it, a gas fire pit was still burning, probably from the night before. Surrounding it were wooden chairs on one side and an arched stone wall covered in throw pillows on the other. To the left, in front of what appeared to be a raised stage, was the bar Ava had suggested. It was littered with half-empty liquor bottles, paper plates, and…a guy asleep on a barstool.
“Jake, who’s that?” Ava asked, her hand on her hip.
He just shrugged and held his hands up.
Clearly frustrated, Ava looked around. “Lucy, why don’t you shoot the first one at the fire pit, and I’ll get rid of the drifter and clean up the bar for the second one.”
“OK,” I said.
Jake and I walked over the stone wall. He reached under the fire pit and the flames went out. “I’m going to hate to see that gas bill,” he said.
I pointed to the edge of the wall. “Jake, why don’t you sit here, so I can get the pool in the background.”
He sat down among the mix of teal and yellow pillows. “Here?”
“Perfect,” I said, pulling my phone out of my purse and navigating to the video camera. “Dang it. I wish I’d brought my tripod for this thing.”
Jake perked up. “I have one. It’s in my bedroom. Hey, Ava! Run to my room and grab the tripod for the phone. Lucy needs it for the video!”
Her eyes doubled. “I don’t wanna.”
He waved her off. “There’s nobody in there. It’s in the corner behind the recliner.”
“Should I hose it down with disinfectant first?” she asked, her face sour as she walked back toward the door.
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” he said flatly with a smirk. When she was gone, he looked at me. “She secretly loves me.”
I nodded and turned my palms up. “Doesn’t everybody
?”
He pointed at me. “You and I are going to get along just fine, Lucy. How do you like working at Record Road?”
“Working for Ava’s great,” I said.
He flashed me another moneymaker grin. I was surprised there wasn’t an award on his mantle for that too. “And Audrey?”
I didn’t respond.
He held up two fingers to his temples like horns and hissed.
I burst out laughing.
“She’s damn good at her job though,” he said.
“Absolutely,” I agreed.
He settled back against the pillows. “So about this video. What do you want me to say?”
I held up my phone to check the lighting. “It will be short. Maybe twenty seconds or so. Just be casual.”
He put his feet up on the bench and laid down.
“Not that casual,” I said with a laugh.
“You have to be very specific with him. Use small words,” Ava said, walking over and handing me the tripod.
Jake sat back up and flipped up his middle finger toward her. She laughed and walked back to the bar.
“Just say, ‘Hey this is Jake Barrett. I’m having a release party for my new album…what’s it called?” I asked.
He scowled. “You don’t know the name of my new album?”
I cringed. “I forgot.”
“The Gun Show,” he said, flexing both of his biceps.
I burst out laughing. “Oh yes. How could that slip my mind?”
He kissed his right bicep. “I’ll bet you’ll never forget again.”
“Feel free to push him in the pool!” Ava shouted.
Those two. They were fun.
“Just roll the camera. I’ve got this,” Jake told me confidently.
“OK.” I held up my cell phone and centered him in the middle of my screen. I clicked the record button and nodded slightly.
“Wait,” he said, holding up a finger.
I stopped the video.
“Ava, when’s the party?” he called out.
“Not this Saturday but the next at six. But don’t say that in the video. Say ‘this Saturday’ instead. And you’ll be recording at seven before you get drunk and act like a moron.”