She sighs and looks down at the offending gift, her lip curled up on one side.
“I told him it was the wrong size,” she says.
“So return it,” I say. “His feelings won’t be hurt.”
She looks around the mall, at the throngs of people hurrying to capitalize on sales and exchange unwanted Christmas gifts, and shrugs. “I’ll come back another day. Besides, even in that baseball cap and sweats, you’re starting to get some stares.”
“‘Stars—they’re just like us!’” I say. “‘They return Christmas presents with their besties!’”
Stella laughs and links her elbow through mine. “Let’s go, superstar. I want to get my nails done.”
“Look at these sketches,” Stella coos once we’re back on tour after New Year’s. My styling team handles the pieces of card stock as if they are ancient scrolls that could crumble at our touch. Tonight is Miami, our first show back from break, and Anita sent over a FedEx today with some Grammy dress options. Even though “Music’s Biggest Night” is a little over a month away, planning for the big event has been in high gear over the past couple of weeks, and I’ve got a huge binder full of ideas and designs.
“The pleats here are perfection,” Amanda whispers. My head stylist, who is impressed by very little that life has to offer, looks like she might faint. “Oh, and this one with the intricate print.”
“Right?” Stella agrees. “And I just can’t with these swatches. Feel this fabric, Bird.”
“I like that one best,” I say, pointing to a coral, form-fitting, floor-length gown with a high neck.
“That’s my favorite for you, too,” Stella says immediately. “Your body shape is perfect for this.”
“I absolutely agree,” Amanda says. “And I adore the way the fabric falls around the back, almost like a cape but also giving the illusion of fuller sleeves. It’s genius.”
“How do you think they’ll want your hair?” Tammy asks as she puts the finishing touches on mine.
“I think we should go bold with the makeup for your actual performance,” Sam chimes in. “But if that’s the dress you go for on the red carpet, we should keep it sweet and natural with maybe a statement lip.”
I stare at myself in the mirror and zone out as they buzz around me: Tammy fussing with a stubborn curl in my hair, Sam preparing his pouch for touch-ups throughout the show, Amanda steaming my opening dress, and Stella finally putting my sketches away as if it pains her to do so. They get back to dressing me, their doll. I think about the other celebrities who will be at the Grammys, the same ones at so many of my events, all of us contemplating how we will look and all of us parading down the red carpet, exactly like a string of paper dolls.
And inspiration strikes.
I lean down and grab my bag, ignoring Tammy’s complaints. When I have a pen and my songwriting journal in my hands, I allow her to get back to work, but a song has taken hold and I’ve learned that nothing is more important than seizing the moment. This time the Grammys feel bigger than the other events, and it’s not because I’m nominated for four this year or because I’ve been requested at so many other events that weekend. It’s because Adam will be on my arm, and he never seems to care how I look.
I hear the melody in my head and chase it across the page with a pen:
Some see a paper doll.
Strung out for all to admire,
Who would curl and crumble in the fire,
Two-dimensional.
But there’s more to me.
I’m a different person than they see.
I’m not a paper doll.
Not their paper doll.
At all.
28
“BIRD, THERE’S DAVE Grohl!” Adam whispers in my ear as we wait our turn to walk the red carpet together for the first time ever. I am giddy with anticipation.
“Be prepared for your mind to be blown over and over and over again,” I tell him, both of us stupendously elated to be at the Grammy Awards after weeks and weeks of preparation. “You thought the Clive Davis pre-party was something? This is that times ten.”
“Then my mind will explode tonight because I had a ten-minute conversation with Keith Urban at that party, and I don’t think my brain has fully accepted it. I’m still in shock. I don’t even know my own name right now.”
I laugh out loud. “When my brothers and I were here last year, we felt like we were in a Madame Tussauds museum. Like, are these people real?”
“Bird, Adam, are we ready?” Anita asks briskly, adjusting her diamond bracelet. She chose a deep-midnight Gucci dress that fits her like a glove; she’s a complete pro at looking glamorous while blending into the background. “It’s showtime.”
“You’re going to lead us down the carpet, right?” Adam asks, plainly nervous.
“I’ll be a few steps ahead,” she says. “And remember, you’re not alone. Your date is an expert.”
I smile over at him, and it hits me that it wasn’t that long ago that I was as clueless and slightly terrified as Adam is now. But tonight, I’m not nervous at all, just excited to claim my man in front of the world.
The minute we are in view of the press line, I hear my name. I do as I’ve been trained, plastering on a smile and posing as they shout. Camera bulbs pop and flash as I pay homage to the gorgeous creation Zac Posen tailor-made for me. I fell in love with the coral color and luxurious fabric the moment I saw the first sketch and swatch, and tonight I hope to make the designer proud as I stand tall in his formfitting gown, throwing my shoulders back to accentuate the fabric billowing freely to my midback. Sam kept my makeup light and natural, and Tammy styled my normally loose waves back from my face in a twist of delicate braids.
“You are radiant,” Adam says, after giving me the initial moment in the spotlight as Anita instructed. But now that he’s next to me, I feel even more beautiful. He wraps his arm lightly around my waist and rests his hand on my hip as we smile to our left, then slowly move our heads to the right so we aren’t looking in opposite directions in all the photos. He had scoffed at the red carpet tip sheet Anita sent him, but now that he’s here in the madness, I bet he’s glad we went over it. I know he’s nervous, but he looks totally cool and absolutely edible in his crisp black Calvin Klein tux.
When we’re a quarter of the way down the carpet, Anita gives me the signal that it’s time to be cuddly. I can show the world that Adam Dean is not just my tour opener or my date tonight, but also my boyfriend. I smile at him, not used to seeing his face free of stubble, and kiss him on the cheek, giggling when I see that I’ve left a lipstick mark. I hear a swell in the crowd’s chatter and know that we are the center of attention. I beam at my date. “I guess we’re official now.”
“I don’t know,” he says, putting his forehead against my own. “I think it could be official-er.”
The moment is perfect, it’s magical, it’s the stuff of my dreams from four years ago as his lips brush mine. I hear a little pop of excitement, see flashbulbs on the back of my eyelids, and know we made the press happy with our PDA.
Anita gestures for me to walk forward to an Entertainment Tonight reporter, and we give them the first “official couple” interview. Then we continue to pose our way down the red carpet, stopping occasionally to talk to reporters behind the press line as well as other celebrities we bump into. I introduce Adam to Bridget and Bria, reality show twins I ran around with when I first got a place in LA. He also gets to meet the members of Caitlyn’s Cradle, a band I really like that was in the Best New Artist category with me at the last Grammys.
“Wow, are your cheeks hurting?” Adam asks me after half an hour.
I grin, totally able to relate on most occasions, but tonight I don’t have to fake it. My cheeks don’t get tired from smiling, my lips don’t go dry, and I don’t have to worry about my eyes bugging out. I feel so at home with Adam on my arm that when we finally enter the Staples Center, I know we’re in for a night that neither of us will ever forget.
“You were incredible!” Adam says when I get back to my seat after my performance of “Shine Our Light.” I’ve never seen him so pumped up in my life. The calm demeanor is gone now; he’s losing it, shaking his head as he holds one hand to his forehead and the other tightly around my Grammy for Best Country Song. “That was phenomenal! People out here were going nuts, Bird. It was crazy!”
“Adam!” I laugh. “You are too much right now.”
“Listen, I’ve seen you perform live for months, but nothing has come close to that. That was at another level completely, and that’s not just lip service.”
I grin. “Well, I sure could use a little of that.”
He laughs, shaking his head at my corniness, and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. A few other Open Highway people reach over to compliment my performance, and we all take our seats as the host starts introducing the next presenter.
“Thanks for babysitting this bad boy while I was up there,” I whisper, reaching for my golden Gramophone. I totally freaked out when they called my name—I won my first Grammy!—but somehow, I managed to read my thank-you speech without going over the time limit.
“You know,” Adam says as he passes the Grammy toward me, clutching it tighter when I try to take it. “I can hold on to it a little longer if you want. Even stash it on my bus for safekeeping.”
“Ha-ha,” I say, jerking it out of his hands. Then I cradle the prize and whisper, “You’re safe now, baby. Shh. Momma’s here.”
“Bird,” Anita says, leaning over Adam to get my attention as the next presenters take the stage. “This is the moment. I sincerely believe in The Road to You, but no matter what happens, remember that the cameras will be right there.” She points to a guy setting up in the aisle beside me. “And you need to be gracious in your reaction either way. It sounds cliché, but it really is an honor to be nominated.”
“Hey, I agree a hundred percent,” I say, nodding.
A shiver runs up my spine as music goddess Beyoncé Knowles walks across the stage in a shimmery silver dress, escorted by her copresenter Adam Levine. As they approach the microphone to uproarious applause, everyone in the audience knows what’s next.
“‘Music’s Biggest Night’ celebrates music from all genres, represents people from all parts of the world, and celebrates cultural differences right here in our own country,” Beyoncé says. “So do this year’s nominees for Album of the Year.”
My competition is stiff. As Adam Levine reads from the teleprompter, a snippet of each nominee’s biggest hit plays over the speakers.
“Catch Me Crazy. Mz. Communication,” he announces. “Drifting. Evangeline Grey,” he continues as we clap. The same progression for Delightful Chaos, me, and Kingdom-Luxe. Then I see all our faces projected together on a humongous screen as we wait with nervous anticipation. There is a camera right at my feet, right there to capture my reaction, win or lose, and I can feel the eyes of the world watching. I grab Adam’s hand and squeeze.
Beyoncé takes the mic again. “And the Grammy goes to…”
Adam’s knee is bobbing up and down involuntarily, and a trickle of sweat drips down my side even though it’s freezing in here. I can feel the nerves from the entire Open Highway team in the seats around me. It’s one of those moments when you wish you could fast-forward a few seconds, or pause for a minute, because experiencing it in real time is absolute torture.
“If I can get this open,” Beyoncé says. Except for a few random shouts, the Staples Center is eerily quiet as she prepares to announce the winner for the biggest award of the night. “Oh, I loved this album. The Road to You. Miss Bird Barrett.”
My mouth falls open. My hand is at my heart. I know people are cheering, are squeezing my shoulders and slapping me on the back, but it’s like I am watching it all from outside my body. Somehow I rise to my feet and then Adam has me in a bear hug, sweeping me into the aisle as Dan, Anita, and a bunch of other Open Highway people file out of our row. I give my first Grammy back to Adam and follow my Nashville producer, Jack Horn, to the stage, walking in a trance toward Adam Levine and Queen B.
When I get to the stage, I am fighting tears. “I can’t believe I just hugged Beyoncé,” I say into the mic, my voice quivering as I look down at the award in my hands. The crowd laughs, and it brings me to the present with clarity. “Oh man, this is unbelievable. Thank you, first and foremost, to my fans. You did this,” I say. I hold the Grammy up and repeat myself. “You did this, Birdies!” The upper decks go nuts, and it’s the greatest feeling in the world. “I want to thank my family, my boyfriend, my publicist, my manager, and especially this man, Dan Silver, the president of my label, who believed in me from day one. The Road to You started off bumpy, and I’m so grateful that I can call Open Highway Records my home, that I get to write honestly and that I get to share what’s in my head and in my heart. Thank you to all the producers up here who know me well enough that when I think I’ve given my best, they push me harder.” I pause and see Bruno Mars nodding along and Adele smiling in the front row. I continue to scan the elite section: Mumford & Sons, Pharrell, Rihanna, and Taylor Swift all staring at me, all smiling as if to say, Cherish this moment.
“And to the other nominees, your albums were brilliant. To every musician sitting in the seats tonight, in every genre, you continue to raise the bar, you continue to create amazing beats and hooks and lyrics, you continue to touch lives with music from your soul, and you should see my iTunes playlist. I may be a country artist, but you inspire me. I want to be bold like Mz. Communication, vulnerable like Evangeline Grey, rock hard like Delightful Chaos, and be able to fuse sounds like Kingdom-Luxe consistently does so well. As I look out at this diverse crowd of musical geniuses, allow me to say: I am a fan.” Pockets of people start to clap, and I finish up over the applause. “I learn from you. Music is meant to be shared, and so I share this award with you all.”
Much to my surprise, Wiz Kahlifa stands up and shouts, “Hell yeah!” Then Drake is on his feet. Jay Z, Justin, Katy Perry, the Black Keys, every person in the Staples Center stands up and applauds passionately. It is a beautiful chorus, a beautiful moment of unity. “Thank you, everybody!”
As the orchestra music swells, I follow my team across the stage a changed person, never again to be Bird the fiddler in her family’s band or Bird Barrett an act to watch, but for now and forever more as Album of the Year Grammy–award winner Bird Barrett. I clutch my gold statue tight, just so I have something to keep me in the moment, just so I know that it’s real.
29
“THIS PLACE IS packed,” Adam shouts over the music at an after party later.
“Right?” I say. “But packed with megastars. It’s like a weird dance club where everybody you pass is a little more famous than the last person you saw.”
“Exactly!”
Every time Adam and I end up in a conversation with a huge celeb, we are downright starstruck. We completely gush over their music, but the cool thing is that it’s not long before we and the celebrity find common ground and are just talking shop, like we’ve been friends forever. This event is like a fantastic otherworld, where every person here is in awe of some other person here. Rather than any one of us being the star of the room, we’re all regular people having a good time. My brothers and I didn’t hit up any after parties last year, so it’s been fun to experience something completely new with Adam.
But it’s been a long night. “How long do these things last?” he asks, trying to suppress a yawn.
I shrug. “Is it lame to leave?”
“Lame to call it a night at two in the morning?” he asks. “Not at all. And now we have His and Hers Grammys to snuggle.”
I elbow him in the rib cage. “Lay off, Dean. You’ll win your own soon enough.”
“Hello, stranger,” a low voice says behind me.
“Jason!” I say when I turn around. We do the standard Hollywood double-cheek air kisses, and even though nothing even close to romantic ever happened between us,
I am a little nervous when I turn to introduce him to Adam. “You have got to meet my boyfriend, Adam Dean.”
Adam doesn’t look tired anymore. In fact, he looks quite alert as he reaches out a hand and shakes with the guy who inadvertently caused us trouble during our first go ’round.
“Hey, from ‘Make Her Mine,’ right?” Jason asks enthusiastically. “That song is terrific. I always blast it in the car. It’s country but rock, and it’s got a lot of heart, man. Jason Samuels is a big fan.”
Adam’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline he’s so shocked. “Thank you. I had a pretty tempting muse,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder.
“Bird, did you see Devyn? I’m sure she’d love to catch up,” Jason asks, the most innocently clueless man on earth. “Or Kayelee? They’re running around here somewhere.”
“I haven’t seen them,” I say, trying to be sweet. “I’ve been on tour and haven’t spent much time at our LA place lately. I did see Bria and Bridget on the—”
“Adam!”
I spin around, knowing that voice anywhere, and am dumbstruck when the devil herself comes running up to him with her cleavage about to spill out of her very low-cut dress.
“Hey, Kayelee,” he says as she throws her arms around his neck and rubs her boobs all over his chest. He clumsily pats her back and tries to pull away, glancing at me like a kid in trouble with his mom.
“How are you?” Kayelee squeals as she finally pulls away from my boyfriend and completely ignores both Jason and me.
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