by Marcia Ware
Maggie had artfully managed to untangle herself from Sissy’s grip and gently took her hand. “Yes, I know,” was all she said.
None of this was lost on Lanie, who was watching with mounting curiosity.
“Okay, girls, time to get these wheels in motion,” Lanie finally said. “Maggie, I’ll call you when I’ve nailed down Blake Fabian to produce,” she said. “I know he’s gonna know the right players to get, and he’ll really take your sound to the next level.”
Maggie shook her head in amazement. “I still can’t believe Fabian’s even a possibility.”
Smoothing out her amazing hair again, Lanie said, “In our world, Sweetie, everything’s a possibility. Leave it to the star makers. It’s what we do! Now, go call whoever it is that’s been texting you and share the good news.”
Maggie looked at her phone and then looked at Sissy. “It’s just Joe,” Maggie said. “I’ll call him back in a minute.”
“No, no, honey, call him now,” Sissy said, barely masking her jealousy. “We’re done. Like Lanie said, once the details get hammered out, we’ll be in touch.”
“Alright then,” Maggie said excitedly. Backing toward door, she stopped, momentarily dropped her gaze and said with gratefulness, “Thanks again, and I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Sissy, I’ll see you soon right?”
“Yes, you will,” Sissy said. “Guess there’s some family get-together this weekend at Joe’s place.” She casually flipped through the touch screen on her cell as she spoke. Without looking up, Sissy said rather haughtily, “I’m sure he’ll tell you about it.”
With that statement, not to mention the tone in which it was delivered, came the irrefutable truth: The battle lines had been clearly drawn. Lanie’s curiosity was beyond piqued as she paused from signing some papers Beth had handed her to watch the subtle showdown.
“Actually, I got a call from him this morning,” Maggie said coolly, confidently aware of the advantage she possessed. “Your parents are in town and we’re all getting together after church on Sunday, right? I’m bringing my chicken pot pie.”
Sissy’s eyes narrowed; completely betraying the seemingly friendly smile that emanated from her lips. “Oh that sounds fantastic. But then again, you’ve always known your way around a kitchen now, haven’t you?
With an uncomfortable laugh Maggie simply replied, “Right. Okay then, I’m gonna head out. Lanie…again, it was a pleasure. Beth, as usual, when I knew you were in the room, you were a delight.”
Beth covered her mouth to hide a slight giggle as Maggie made her exit. Lanie approached Sissy, who was attempting to make another call.
“What…was…that?” Lanie asked.
“I have no idea to what you’re referring, Lanie,” Sissy replied, lowering her phone.
“So, are you gonna tell me the truth of why you pestered me to stay on this project, or am I going to use that strange little exchange to divine it for myself?”
“Lanie, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking…”
“Spare me the snow job, Gwyneth,” Lanie said as she regarded her own image in a mirror. Using her fingers to comb through her hair, she said, “There’s something going on between you and Maggie, and I’d be willing to bet my Jag it involves that guy. I have no intention of getting into the middle of your melodrama.”
“I assure you, Lanie, there is no drama.”
Lanie raised her hand, her fingertips meeting her thumb as she said, “Shut it.” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow to emphasize her point. “I’ve been in this game long enough to see when someone’s playing ‘keep your friends close and your rivals closer.’”
Sissy was silent as she stared off into the distance.
“Well, your nothing says everything, as far as I’m concerned,” said Lanie. She stepped in front of Sissy and faced her squarely. “I don’t know what is really on your mind, but I’m telling you right now, it had better be about the music. Keep the personal stuff on the back burner. This isn’t Junior High. Capice?”
Sissy returned her steely stare. She didn’t flinch or blink. “I hear you loud and clear.”
Chapter 11
“Terrific, Maggie. We’ve got that one down. Just terrific.”
Maggie was in heaven. Lanie wasted no time in setting up everything that Maggie could possibly need for the process of putting her first project together. She had no idea what it was costing, but she didn’t care. From the arrangements to the production, to the amount of creative freedom Blake Fabian was allowing her to have, Maggie was willing to sell just about everything she had in order to afford it.
In the month she spent working side by side with one of the hottest producers on both coasts and every major market in between, Maggie and Blake were becoming a well-oiled machine. There was hardly a move that she wanted to make that he’d not considered a split second before. With every single song, they knew they were creating sheer magic.
Her only regret was that her musical journey was taking her far from Joe. He would visit the studio from time to time, but with the semester at the university hitting its own stride, they stole whatever time they could with brief lunches, the occasional dinner date and late night phone calls.
Blake pressed the button on the console that allowed him to communicate inside the recording booth. With a smooth Australian baritone he said into the microphone, “Okay, Maggie, we’ve got one more tune to work out, and then we’re pretty much done for the day. How ya feelin’?”
Maggie sat contentedly on a stool, still basking in the glow of her efforts. “I’m almost sad to see it end,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“You need a break?”
She looked at her watch. In ten minutes it would be eleven p.m. If she could get the last song done reasonably well in the next hour, she could catch Joe before he headed to bed. But she didn’t want to rush the final song. It was the one that she, Lanie and Blake all agreed had the strength to be the first single. Recording had gone well. The players did their job superlatively, laying down instrumental tracks in record time with-pin point precision. With all of that efficiency, there was time to slow down, and Maggie decided that she wanted to take advantage of it.
“You know what, Blake? I think I’m about done for the day. Any chance we can close it up for the night?”
Blake rose from his chair and took a sip of tepid coffee. Wincing as he swallowed, he pushed the button on the console again. “Hey, you don’t have to ask me twice. I’m beat.”
Maggie gathered her things and returned to the control room to hear Blake giving instructions to the engineer and two technical assistants. “How’s noon sound for you, luv?” Blake said, as Maggie entered the room.
“Noon’s fine. Thanks.”
Blake gave her a warm smile as she made her way over to him. Tall, lanky and ruggedly handsome, his thick blonde hair was perfectly mussed with the intended just-out-of-bed look. He leaned on the edge of the mixing board, casually crossing one leg over the other. With a flash of his greenish-blue eyes, he said, “Maggie West, this has truly been one of the greatest times I’ve had in studio in quite some time.” He then took her hand and kissed it.
She felt her cheeks flush as she uttered a simple “Aw, thanks. It’s been a thrill working with you too, Blake.”
“Listen, it’s still early by Nashville standards. I was hoping to wind down with a drink over at Tin Roof. Care to join me?
Perhaps it was the combination of the accent, the eyes and the whimsical hair, but if Maggie didn’t know any better, she could have sworn that Fabian had been flirting with her from the moment he’d arrived in town. Not long ago, she might have actually considered his invitation. But her attention was elsewhere these days.
Still, the man was flat out gorgeous, and she was sincerely flattered.
My goodness, she thought, when it rains, it pours.
She said, “Mmm, that’s tempting; it’s been so long since I’ve just been out. Can I take a rain check?”
Still
holding her hand, he bowed slightly and squeezed before finally letting it go. If there was one thing Blake Fabian could sense, it was when a woman’s heart was not voluntarily up for grabs. Ah, but there’s still a little more time before the project’s completed, he thought. There will be other opportunities.
For the moment, he decided to relent. “Already spoken for, eh?” he asked.
“Yeeeaaah,” she said, drawing out the word lightheartedly.
With a wink and a turn he said cheekily, “Well, if it doesn’t work out…”
Her confidence in full bloom, she swayed her hips in an exaggerated fashion as she sauntered toward the door. “Oh honey, you couldn’t handle it,” she joked, drawing laughter from Blake and the other guys in the room. “G’night!” she said cheerfully
“G’night,” all of the men said at various times.
“I’m pretty sure I could handle it,” Blake said to the guys, who acknowledged their agreements with raised eyebrows and lowered grunts. “God knows I’d have a good time tryin’.”
Maggie smiled to herself as she exited the building. Scrolling down her phone to Joe’s number, she couldn’t imagine how life could get any sweeter.
She looked at the clock. It was a few minutes past eleven. Joe was usually still awake; but even if he were in bed, he always welcomed a wakeup call from her, so she took her chances and pressed the button.
Sissy placed the neatly folded dish towel over a stainless steel rack. Locking the dishwasher door and pressing a button, the low purr of the first soaking cycle began as she turned out all of the lights in the kitchen, save the one over the stove. Its solitary glow cast a warmth over Joe’s freshly cleaned kitchen. She stood in the doorway that led to the living room and admired her work. As was always the case when she’d spent the better part of a day there, she indulged herself in feeling as though this were her home.
She’d spent the evening helping the kids with homework, making them dinner and lovingly seeing them off to bed. With Sissy taking care of the children, Joe was able to work with minimal interruption, for which he was certainly grateful. There was a bit of self-sacrifice in her deed; she knew that Joe needed to work, and she was much less expensive for him than a sitter. But her true satisfaction came from achieving her primary purpose: using the music to keep Maggie as preoccupied as possible; thus keeping her away from Joe.
Finally emerging from his study, Joe simultaneously walked and stretched before collapsing on the living room sofa next to Sissy. “Thanks so much, Sis,” he said through a yawn. He reached over without thinking, grabbed Sissy’s hand and kissed it. “You have no idea how much you’ve saved me today.”
Sissy felt the rush of his touch from her fingers to a point somewhere in the depth of her stomach, and took advantage of his fatigue by gently maintaining a grip on his hand. “It was my pleasure, dear,” she said.
With his free hand, he scratched his head and made a low, tense sound. “Ugh,” he sighed. “I am so wiped.”
Staring at his profile as he sat motionless with his eyes closed, Sissy allowed her mind to travel to that place where it was the two of them at the end of a long hard day, sharing stories of his activities at the university; hers at the record label. In her perfect world, they would sit on the couch and share their dreams and hopes for the children.
They were fantasies she indulged for years, practically from the moment they met. She’d long since gotten past the guilt she felt where Grace was concerned.
She tried to think of a topic, any topic that would keep the two of them engaged in conversation. “I can only imagine. You’ve been really burning the candle at all ends this week,” she said. “How’s it all going over there at the school?”
Joe finally withdrew his hand and leaned forward, bemused by Sissy’s interest in what he did for a living. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave her a warm smile. “It’s not without its daily dose of drama, but all in all, it’s a good semester, thanks for asking.” Turning to face her he asked, “You’ve been pretty busy yourself, Ms. Executive producer. How’s that working out?
It was a subject she was hoping they’d never broach, but the inevitability was just too great. “How’s what going? You mean Maggie’s project?”
“Any other amazing vocalists we know in common?”
With a manufactured smile, Sissy worked to remain upbeat. She rose from the couch and made her way back to the kitchen, hoping that by busying herself she could mask her disinterest in yet another discussion about the greatness of Maggie West.
Calling out to him as she poured a glass of wine, Sissy said with faux brightness, “Oh, She’s kicking butt out there. She’s focused, brilliant, wowing the socks off of all of us. I’ve never seen anything like it.” It galled Sissy to admit to herself that her comments weren’t just for Joe’s appeasement. She was telling the truth.
As she returned with a glass of chilled Pino Grigio in each hand, she said in her sophisticated tone, “What I can’t understand is why she’d make you stay away. You’re missing some really incredible moments.”
With an irritated expression, he leaned back and stared at her directly. “What? She’s never made me stay away. Why would you say that, Sis,” he asked.
Sissy realized she was letting her confidence run a bit too far ahead of her. Quickly backpedaling, she said, “I’m sorry; I’ve just never seen you there. I figured it was safe to assume…”
Joe softened his attitude. He was tired, easily irritable and missed Maggie incredibly. Feuding with his sister-in-law was not a way he wanted to expend his energy. With a much more even manner, he said, “I’m usually there to catch the tail end of something she might be doing; between my schedule and hers, we don’t get much time to hang out. But yeah, I’m there.”
“Well, then, you know a little of how well it’s going,” she said as she sipped her wine.
“I do have one question, though.”
“Shoot.”
“Every time I’m there, there’s always that big Marlboro Man-type guy who seems to have the whole room spellbound. The one with the accent. Who is that guy?”
Sissy closed her eyes and sipped again, taking a moment to relish the fortuitous situation in which she now found herself. “That’s Blake Fabian, producer extraordinaire,” she said.
“Where’s he from? Australia?” Joe asked, his expression clouding over.
Sissy could sense his concern. She proceeded cautiously. “Yep. I’ve known Blake for years,” she went on, “And I have to admit, on the one hand, he’s one of the best in the business. On the other, the man is a charmer. I can’t think of one woman on the planet who hasn’t been blindsided by that accent.”
Joe stared straight ahead and made a low sound in his throat that clearly conveyed disapproval.
He is jealous! Sissy thought. She motioned to the wine; Joe merely pursed his lips and shook his head. “You read the magazines much,” she asked.
“Never been a tabloid kind of guy, I‘m afraid,” he replied.
“Well, there was that little pop star he managed to romance right out from underneath the clutches of her A-list actor fiancée,” she said with a smirk. “Three weeks before the wedding, as a matter of fact. Blake Fabian knows women as well as he recognizes how to craft a hit, that’s for sure.”
“I’m sure it was more than his voice that reeled her in,” Joe said ruefully.
Embracing her slight upper hand, Sissy ran her fingers through her hair and said, “I know how focused Maggie is, but I’d be shocked if she’s not as caught up in his hype as any other girl he encounters. But then again, she’s a pro. She won’t let anything stand in the way.” Another sip of wine, she felt her confidence growing. “You know,” she said, “Now that she’s no longer with that attorney, it would be great to see her get out there again. To be with someone who understands her lifestyle.” She finally looked over at Joe, who was watching her intently.
“Drink up,” she said, pointing to his glass. “Or, if you want, I can make
you some of that tea you love so much.”
“No thanks on either count,” he said, rising to take his glass back to the kitchen. “The tea will keep me up too long, the wine will knock me out too soon.” Then he thought, You’d do well to slow your roll on the wine yourself, lady.
Walking past her toward the main staircase, he said, “I’m gonna hit the shower, then try heading to bed.”
What Sissy could hear in the tone of Joe’s voice was difficult to ascertain. What she did know was that her words were planting the appropriate seed of doubt in his mind. “Joe, are you okay,” she asked.
Resting his hand on the banister, Joe hesitated. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You just tired or is there something you need to talk about?”
He did need to talk, but he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it with her. Joe could tell Sissy was baiting him; perhaps hoping that he’d spill some info on his relationship with Maggie. He never could understand the underlying tension that seemed to exist between the two women. Perhaps Sissy was feeling protective of her baby sister’s memory. Maybe it was an issue of territory.
Maybe his mother was right about Sissy all along, and he was simply oblivious to it.
It didn’t matter. Joe was exhausted, and he wanted to talk to Maggie. He loved that she was in her element, working hard and happy doing it. But it made for a hard couple of months. As much as his head told him that he had nothing to fear between Maggie and Mr. Hotshot-Record-Producer Guy, Sissy‘s disclosure had left his heart feeling more than a little insecure.
Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. “Feel free to make yourself at home. You gonna camp out on the top floor?”
“Sure. Do you still have that old shirt?”
“Yeah. I’ll leave it on that table in the hall.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
“Glad to have you. Sleep well.”
“G’night.”
Sissy leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa and closed her eyes. She imagined the changes she would bring to the house. Or better yet, she thought of some of the homes of her colleagues: those massive structures in the upscale neighborhood of Brentwood. She could talk Joe into selling this old house for something newer, more modern. Somewhere that didn’t have one trace of his previous life.