Some of the photographers had gone ahead and would meet him out the front of his hotel. All would be hoping to get another shot of him and praying for an exclusive. If they were going to get the headline, they needed it from every angle. He was used to it, although, sometimes he was too tired to play their game. Now was one of those times.
He hated being banged around, grabbed and pushed. The flashes were relentless... Strangers were calling his name as if they were old friends. Occasionally one would sound like a friend and he would turn, accidently offering them the exclusive they could sell to their tabloid papers and magazines. One single photo of Nate Bowman was worth roughly $300.00 and that was without an interesting story to accompany it.
If there was a scandal, or speculation of one, a girlfriend, or just some new activity surrounding his life and preferably in a negative light, it would go up to thousands. It was the way it was in the industry he had chosen to be a part of. Even with the paparazzis’ relentless presence, he loved the fact that he could do whatever he wanted and there was nothing anyone in the world could say or do that would change his mind. Nate Bowman was living the dream. Yet the reality was that dreams have the potential to become nightmares, ones that eventually fade away but only when a new story hits the limelight.
He picked up his phone and read the email. It made him smile that she offered to help. He wondered if she had any idea what it was she could do. He sighed and closed his eyes. Who was Carnegie Lane? Why had she had such an impact on him? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already met some of the most amazing people in the world. This was a single mother, with four kids. She was broke and she was tired. The difference was, she held no expectation of him, she wasn’t even a fan. She was not competing with him on any level, nor did she need him.
Carnegie was an Author who had written a book, one that he could relate to, a story that had resonated with him. She lived a relatively simple life, which was something he had forfeited a long time ago. He felt connected to her, but why? How?
He also knew that he had promised to keep his distance and not interrupt the process his sister was setting up now in relation to her work. He broke that promise the moment he decided to go to Bundaberg and perform the concert. He would deal with his sister later about that, and hopefully it would attract no adverse attention. Nate was in a reflective mood. He sent her a reply, not really knowing what she would say in response. He just had words he needed to say and like her, he needed an uncomplicated friendship. One that allowed him the insight into a life he had chosen not to live. One that allowed her into a world she never believed was hers to want. Now was as good a time as any to begin exploring it.
-----Original Message-----
From: Nate ([email protected])
To: Carnegie Lane ([email protected])
Sent: Thurs, July 7, 2010 4:45 am
Subject: RE: Good news and Better News just for you
Hey you,
You don’t need to thank me, I’m happy to come, it’s about time I did something different. Besides, don’t want any festering wounds around do we.
Favorite song, well that’s a tough one. Music, as you have guessed is my entire world, so there’s lots of them that allowed me to dream. “Telegraphy Road”, by Dire Straits, well that one made me want to learn to play guitar. “Home by the Sea” by Genesis, Phil Collins has a way of bringing music and lyrics to life. The Cure, well they go without saying, I believe we share that mutual passion, as does half the world.
I think if I go for the song that stands out in my life the most, that holds the greatest memory. It has to be Romeo and Juliet, off the Dire Straits Making Movies Album. I’m sure that’s part of your collection. It’s like the Police, if it’s not then it should be.
Favorite song of all time, is a song called “Roads” by Portishead. Wow, now that takes me back.
So, there’s not a lot of my life that you can’t discover, by surfing the internet, and reading the right bio, what about yours? What made you write that book, what inspired the words as they came? If it’s your first book, how did you get it so right? What makes you happy? What’s your favorite song?
I look forward to the answers. Now, for me, it’s time to attempt sleep. It’s been a long night.
Nate xx
That email didn’t have to wait long before she opened it. She was in her room, looking at her wardrobe with horror when it came in. Carnegie was mortified at the reality she would have to use her credit card and spend money, purchasing new clothes, not only for her, but for the kids, since this was going to be a special event for them all. Mostly, she believed it was for her girls. They were on the edge of the beginning of their lives. A time she remembered well and to this day, a period in her own life she refused to let go of. The precious moments of being not quite a child, yet, not old enough for life to become a burden.
There wasn’t one band mentioned in that email from Nate she didn’t already have in her extensive collection and love. She pulled out her “Dummy” CD by Portishead, and put on “Roads”, which was also a favorite of hers. She had so much music, she almost forgot about it, lost in the memory of her past. She now absorbed it, straight back into the core of her DNA, all the music that set her free so long ago.
Lying on her bed, the words sank in, going around and round in her mind. It was interesting for her to remember moments, lying in a bed with her husband and listening to the lyrics of this song, as if Beth Gibbons, the lead singer was talking straight to her soul. No matter how much she curled herself up into his arms, it felt wrong.
Their moment of being happy - if that’s what it was just a moment - was following the underground and original rock scene around Sydney. Not pretending to be ordinary and upper class people living a life that secretly made them both miserable. She remembered the nights crammed into their bed, with the twins on either side of her, her husband pushed to the wasteland edges hanging on by a sheet and tears in her eyes as those babies cried a little, thinking…How can it feel…this wrong.
“Oh, can't anybody see
We've got a war to fight
Never found our way
Regardless of what they say
How can it feel, this wrong
From this moment
How can it feel, this wrong”
Words to a song, or words in a book, no matter how great, or how tragic, have one thing in common. They have been written by someone who had the emotion to think them in the first place. Every word Carnegie Lane put on paper came from a place she recognized somehow belonged to her. The words carried the intense and absolute need to be loved, to belong to someone.
It is fact that even the greatest writer can only draw from the knowledge of feelings that live deep within them. Love songs and love stories display the inner most secrets of someone’s soul. When you put that down on paper, knowing exactly from the depths of your soul where it came from and be honest, you allow it to flow without ego stepping in to guide it. The words will be drawn to you. The love story becomes poetry and the poet sends the message on the wind to attract the ones it was meant for. Like a birdsong.
How long it takes for them to hear that song, depends on the strength of the intense want. Like the words in Roads, it found her wanting more, and it allowed her to explore what she was thinking at the time.
Exploring the song again now, allowed her to remember that even way back then, something in her world wasn’t working. She just had a great way of denying it to everyone around her, especially, to herself.
She remembered the day she put away her Doc Martin boots, knowing they were suddenly politically incorrect to be worn in their new circle of friends. The dark make up had to go, replaced with gentle clinic tones that highlighted what was real in a world of plastic surgery and Botox. The music she danced to in public became dull and boring, something that sat in the background and didn’t intrude on the conversations that appeared to matter more than the creation of sound. Her life was stripped bare, in order to hav
e a new life. One she never chose yet one she continued to allow, no matter how great the loss.
That was why she wrote that book. Every part of her was calling out to be found. Every word she wrote tore her apart a little bit more than she already was. Every heartache and loss showed the depth of despair she carried for not ever having found him, or from possibly losing him. It screamed how much she wanted her world back, just the way it was.
Maybe, just maybe, that was true. She hadn’t found him yet. Her world was all back to front and her marriage had really only served the part of her life that allowed her to have a family. Now it was possible that the one it was meant for just happened to be a successful lead singer in a band, who she had never met and yet, she liked him. She liked that he called her, she liked that he offered her help. Most importantly, she loved the fact he enjoyed her story. It gave her hope.
So what happens the day she finds what she is looking for? Does it all end? Does her creativity stop at one book, one story, one reflection of a dream? Or was it just the beginning? The song she was listening to ended and at the same time the phone rang, like synchronicity.
She was brought back from the memory of her life seventeen years before by the reality of a relentless digital bell. She got up and answered it. Not expecting the conversation to answer most of her questions and be the salvation to her immediate prayer.
“Hello” She said a little sleepily, still caught in the mood of her music.
“Carnegie?” The female voice questioned at the other end. She sounded too young in her opinion.
“Yes…This is Carnegie Lane.”
“Carnegie…Its Katalie Bowman, great to hear your voice.” Carnegie’s heart began to beat a little faster.
“Wow, Katalie, I wasn’t expecting a call. Hi, it’s great to finally talk to you too.”
“Well, we have some great news. We have a publisher for “Impossible Things” The offer is being put together this week, and we are having some meetings next Wednesday.”
This was clearly good news.
“That’s amazing. I thought it took much longer than this.”
Katalie laughed a little. “It often does, although this is a great read. It hit a nerve with everyone who read it, me included.” She deliberately left out the mention of her brother. This was their conversation and it didn’t belong to him. Not now. She continued on without distraction or small talk, trying to keep the conversation on track, as there was some work for Carnegie to do, that would help her secure an even more lucrative deal than the one being offered now.
“Carnegie, I recognize this is your first book, although, is there another one you have been working on? Have you thought about writing two? Often we can pull a better deal if there is more than one book on the table.”
There was silence for a moment. Writing another book hadn’t even been a consideration for her.
“Well, I hadn’t really thought about it. What kind of book do you want? I mean…I guess I could give it a go.” She was in shock, trying to come up with an idea.
“Well, have a think about it. See if you can even come up with an outline, you’re not expected to have a complete manuscript ready by next week, just a concept. If you can do that, we can get you an advance and a time frame to write it.”
“Do I get anything for the one I have written?” She asked innocently.
“Oh yes. You get a quite a lot actually. The figure isn’t set of course and as I was saying, offering another book at the same time will raise the bar on the final offer, although it is somewhere around the one hundred mark at the moment. That’s to you upfront.”
It took a while for her to read between that line. Was that one hundred dollars, or one hundred thousand dollars? Or was it Pounds?
“So, somewhere around one hundred what?” She asked with a dry mouth and with a sudden shake in the hand holding the phone.
“Oh…around one hundred thousand pounds. Sorry, I wasn’t very clear was I.”
There was no answer…Carnegie was unable to answer.
“Carnegie? Are you still there?” Katalie thought for a moment the phone had dropped out.
“Oh…Sorry. Yep. I’m still here.” She was only just there, working hard not to faint. The blood in her body was rushing to her head.
“So…What do you think? Any chance you could come up with a theory for a second book?”
“And the second book, it brings in more money on top of that amount?” She asked again, wondering if this was way too easy. Also wondering how she missed this for so long as a career option.
“Yes it will, not as much since you’re not offering a complete manuscript, but enough to allow you an income to continue writing uninterrupted.” Katalie did this every day, none of it was remarkable to her so it rolled off her tongue as easily as water over a rock.
“I’m sure I have a few ideas I could put together in the next week. I’ll do my best Katalie, and thank you…For the call.” It wasn’t that she was deliberately cutting it short. She just needed to get off the phone, sit down and allow it all to sink in.
“It was great to finally catch up with you Carnegie. We will talk again soon, in the mean time I’ll send you an outline of the offer and an email that will explain how it all works.”
“That would be great. Talk to you soon Katalie, bye…and thanks!”
Carnegie put the phone down, sat on her bed and burst into laughter. For the first time in her adult life, she’d just earned an income and it was by no means a small one. All of the financial pressure suffered from that messy divorce lifted… in the space of one phone call.
“Paddington, here we come.” She muttered to herself under her breath, happy now to continue the dissection of her outdated wardrobe. It didn’t matter anymore. She was about to go on a spending spree, and felt the excitement of it. Once, shopping held no reward. It was easy and money was no object. When the kids got home it was the first thing she was going to do, give them free reign to shop and make their absolute own decision on what they were going to buy. Simply, because she could.
She danced and imagined her way through the rest of her afternoon to the sounds of Sigur Ros, throwing out bags of clothes, anticipating tomorrow and waiting for her kids to walk through the door, expecting nothing.
Carnegie Lane, single mother of four, idol to inanimate objects and almost author, was suddenly and unexpectedly, about to acquire a small fortune. And she did it all… by… herself.
Hey, whenever I fall at your feet
Won’t you let your tears rain down on me?
Whenever I touch your slow turning pain
The finger of blame has turned upon itself
And I’m more than willing to offer myself
Do you want my presence or need my help?
Who knows where that might lead?
I fall
“Fall at Your Feet”
Written by Neil Fin
Crowded House - Woodface Album – 1991
8
Hours became days that slowly became a week. There was one more week to survive. One more week of secrets she had to keep from the miserable girls that dragged their feet behind them with every step. Carnegie had found her own distraction, in the attempt to write an outline for another book. It came a little harder than the first, although ultimately, she had an idea that she could spin into a good yarn, one she was sure would be well received.
She had kept up her emails with Katalie, back and forth, until eventually she had a suitable outline with a full synopsis of the idea to support it. Now, it was up to Kat to see what she could pull out of her magic hat. All Carnegie had to do was believe she could write it.
She was aware she hadn’t replied to Nate’s email. Instead she dissected every tune from the body of music he had offered so freely. Every song held a memory for her. He wanted her memories, he had asked her what it was that made her who she was. She was exploring exactly who that someone was since up until now, she had been too numb to even consider givin
g a clear and honest profile of herself.
She had changed somewhere along the road of her life and now, before she could sit comfortably in her own skin, she had to change back. Remove from her timeline the parts that didn’t make sense, yet still leave in the parts that she refused to let go of. The children being the classic example of her dilemma. In one week, this man who had offered her respite from the average, was going to play a concert, just to make her daughters feel better. The very least she could do was reply to his email.
-----Original Message-----
From: Carnegie Lane ([email protected])
To: Nate ([email protected])
Sent: Thurs, July 14, 2010 10:15 pm
Subject: RE: Good news and Better News just for you
Hi Nate,
Sorry for the late reply to your last email. I have been lost in a world of music from your selection, I love them all! And Yes.. I had most of them too by the way.
So you asked me what music I like? Wow, my tastes are huge and varied. A long time ago, I followed the punk rock scene and explored the underground and emerging music around the city, really liked a band called Rocks, very indie of me. I loved a band called Up’s and Downs, they formed in Brisbane before moving to Sydney, and I made a point to follow them to every gig they did, along with another band called The Church. They later went on to have a few hits that made the charts. They did well. Another band I followed, called The Moffs, they were awesome, oh and never forget The Headstones! Another great band. I still have their 7” vinyl somewhere. So many memories. I have always had a passion for live and original. I fell in love with a band called Australian Crawl, in fact I think I wanted to marry the lead singer at one stage. Dragon, they were so good live. Oh… and I was in a film clip once for The Angels at the Maroubra Seals Club, I think the song was called the Nature of the Beast. They filmed it at their concert, I was so impressed. This list of blissful live original music from the 80’s that I tracked religiously could go on for hours, so we will leave it at this, I’m sure you can still find some of their stuff on YouTube. It has everything known to man on there and then some.
The Unexpected Life of Carnegie Lane Page 8