by Jaye Ripley
The temporary smirk she flashes me turns into a radiant smile when she addresses Price. “While their original music does show off their considerable talent, the songs produced so far aren’t going to necessarily get the numbers we need.”
Price taps his fingers in a triangle in front of his face as he leans back in his chair. “There are some hidden gems in what I’ve listened to so far. Some of those songs might be perfect for another of our artists if worked the right way. Thanks to the team of Mr. Ford there and Mr. Summers.” He looks at the other guys for clarification, and Mac raises his hand. Price nods at him.
Mac’s knee hits mine, indicating he’s got the same question I have. What the hell’s Price Howard doing listening to our music? Although, he doesn’t hate it. One point for our side.
He continues. “But you haven’t hit the mark yet. And we have access to songwriters and a full catalog of songs to choose from to help find you a blockbuster. With today’s social media and current technology, we can push you guys out much faster than it used to take. Building your image, you can hit it big right away.”
My stomach drops at the same time Aislynn’s face beams. The last resort of walking away from our deal in breach of contract looms in the near future. Mac and the other guys look at me. They all give me a slight nod, giving me permission to drop the bomb when I need to.
Price straightens up in his chair as he spots someone outside the room. All three of the execs stand up. Aislynn follows their gaze and does the same. We’re the last to see who they’re paying respect to.
Stacia Rollins walks down the hall, trailed by two young women hanging on to her every word. Her flaming red hair that blows beautifully in the wind in her videos is contained in a bun, strands of it falling down around her face. Unlike Aislynn, whose outfit suggests a little more sex and club, Stacia wears a tight pair of jeans tucked into some worn cowboy boots. Her simple tank top doesn’t match the typical shine and sparkle her photos show. And she wears a navy blue suit jacket, cropped and tailored for her figure.
All of us guys stand up in unison when she walks in. The noise of commotion overtakes the room as she greets the executives and hugs Price. She walks around the table in our direction, her smile a bright beacon.
“Please excuse my tardiness. Had to set some things straight with the boys upstairs.” She points her fingers toward the upper floors of executives further up the food chain. “Oh my God, I am so happy to meet you guys. I’m Stacia.” She shakes each of our hands, waiting for us to give our names and not focusing on any one of us in particular. “You guys are one talented band. And I love your name almost as much as I love your sound. You rocked the Showcase.”
Not one of us can form a full sentence. Different versions of thanks and admiration burst out of all of our mouths. In less than a minute, we’ve turned into sick little fanboys, all propriety of business gone.
She gushes some more about our performance and works her way back to the other end of the table. Aislynn misses it when Stacia stands behind her chair. When the room grows quiet with awkward silence, Aislynn looks up from her phone. Stacia gives her a smile dripping with too much sugar. With a small frown, Aislynn stands up. The two young women with Stacia sit down next to her, forcing Aislynn to move to the other side of the table.
Amusement dances in Price’s eyes, as if he wouldn’t expect anything else from his superstar. “Stacia asked to be a part of this meeting, in case you were wondering.”
“Yes, I’m extremely interested in the next steps for you guys.” She crosses her hands in front of her on the table.
Aislynn perks up. “We were just discussing how Hunter and his band should record some selected songs that will fit the right image to launch them.”
Stacia nods. The euphoria of meeting her weakens. If a megastar like her agrees, then we have no voice in the matter.
“If we can perfect Hunter’s style, then he’ll be the perfect front man,” continues Aislynn. “The responses online have been astronomical so far.”
“Because online popularity and perception are always on point.” Sarcasm drips from Stacia’s response. “The internet is full of truths.” She holds her eyes on Aislynn, daring her to contradict her statements.
“Look, I understand that you’ve had some difficulties—” begins Aislynn.
“Price, can I have the room for a moment?” Stacia’s eyes fix on the feisty A&R rep for a moment. We all stand up, but she smiles down at us like a lion toying with its prey. “You boys stay.”
35
Hunter
Price opens the door to allow everyone to exit. Aislynn attempts to talk to him, but he shakes his head. The look on his face holds amusement and interest. He makes sure everyone else leaves, and looks at me, winking as if he’s in on what’s about to happen. All of them stand outside the room for a moment until Price escorts them down the hall.
Stacia’s face changes as soon as the room empties. “Whew, that’s better, don’t you think? You guys need something? Water? Tequila shots?”
Her joke eases our discomfort but gives no clues as to what’s happening. The five of us obeyed her command without thinking, our butts remaining in our seats. But those chairs might as well have been made out of hot coals as much as we’re fidgeting.
“Ma’am, I appreciate you diffusing a tense situation, but may I ask why?” Mac dislikes games, especially not understanding the one being played around him.
“Because I know what expectations labels can place on an artist. I’ve experienced firsthand the manipulation of an image. Now, I’ve fought back hard to get where I am and to earn the respect I have. And if I can do something to help out a fledgling group with potential like yours, than I damn well am gonna do my best.”
Stacia Rollins had started out as a reality show contestant. She’d earned her first contract at the age of twenty, singing songs more suited for pop stars than country singers. The media portrayed her as having a bad attitude, being hard to work with, and having no talent. Her first attempts to break the false images came on her YouTube channel where she’d recorded her own versions of her biggest hits, showing off her voice and musicality. At twenty-six, she’d had more experience dealing with the downside of fame and turned it into a successful brand for herself. She out-earned all of the current Lyric Ridge artists, showing no signs of slowing down.
“I’ve been researching the hell outta you guys all weekend since the concert. You already have a pretty decent following online. The videos from your last concert at that club are the real deal. Y’all can kill some covers, but I’m more interested in your originals.”
EJ leans forward. “Mac and Hunter do most of the writing. The rest of us add what we can and follow their lead.”
Her eyes check out EJ for an added second. She shakes her head and continues. “I’m in agreement with Price that you shouldn’t re-record any of your old songs. Better to sell your albums as a back catalogue and make money that way. But your newest stuff doesn’t quite hit it yet, you know what I mean?”
My heart beats against my chest. Mel’s suggestion to bring in better songs led to us downloading some of our unfinished but better stuff onto his phone.
“Ma’am, if you don’t mind, we’ve got a rough recording of some of our newer stuff that you might want to hear.” Mac pulls out his phone.
“Sure. As long as we all agree right here and now that you won’t be calling me ‘Ma’am’ anymore. I ain’t your momma.” She laughs.
EJ whispers to Mac loud enough so I can hear, “She sure as hell isn’t.” Mac elbows him as he plays the first song for her.
We all lean into the table, listening and watching for her reaction. My ear catches the lyrics.
“Shit, that last couple lines in the second verse don’t work as well as they should. Maybe change it to something to end the leading rhyme about pain, and the last line of the verse about summer rain.” My mind races through better possibilities.
“And the chord progression doesn�
�t quite work yet,” Mac adds.
EJ takes his eyes off Stacia, jumping in. “I keep telling you guys to keep the main part of the verse in minor chords and transition to major on the last line and lead in to the chorus. Same with the bridge.”
“Yeah, the bridge needs work,” I agree.
“I’m sure you boys will work on it until it’s a perfect fit.” Stacia smiles at all of us. “I like your work ethic and watching you figure things out.”
Mac plays the second song, the one with lyrics that came after reconnecting with Mel. Stacia breaks her passive role, paying the song more attention. She nods and smiles, her finger tapping along.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. More like that one. That will make you a hit once you polish it.”
I sigh and sit back. “If we can convince them to let us. So far, we’ve recorded more hollow upbeat songs, and my guess is that the execs here at Lyric Ridge want more of them from us based on the reaction at the end of the show.”
Stacia sits back in her chair. “I get why they wanted you to record that song. Any band could have recorded it, but the spin you put on it gives it life. And it definitely could be a top hit. But the question is whether or not it should be your top hit. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you alone.
“See, with my career going the way it is now, I’ve managed to secure myself enough power that they won’t mess with me as much as they used to. But that took more fight than any new artist should have to give.” She points upstairs again. “Their job is to rack up the cash, even if every song sounds almost the same. At the same time, music’s changing right under their noses. More indie bands gaining ground by using social media the way it should be used. Adding up fans and followers slowly but effectively because they’re allowed to produce the music that fits their style. Like you guys have already started to do. And the execs don’t know how to compete with that.”
Mac pockets his phone. “And you do? Not meaning to disrespect you, but aren’t you a part of this label, ma’am?”
Hart cringes at Mac’s use of “ma’am.” EJ knocks Mac’s leg hard enough that Mac bumps me.
“I’m about a year younger than you guys. I’m not about to start calling you ‘sir.’” She directs her attention at Mac. “But I do appreciate the respect, and your question. Yes, I will be staying under Lyric Ridge Records’ umbrella. But after careful negotiations, they’re giving me my own label. Long Road Records. And I want you boys to be the first ones I sign to it.”
All of the air in the room disappears. White noise fills my ears. I only remember to breathe when Mac taps my arm.
“But we’re already signed. How can we jump labels?” he asks.
“Technically, you’re not. Long Road Records will be a Lyric Ridge imprint. My imprint. Whatever we make, ultimately a small percentage goes to them. Money talks. And in my deal, I made sure I could have my pick of newly signed artists if I wanted them. Mainly, I did that with Tailgate Down in mind.”
“Would we be working directly with you?” Levi asks.
“I get most of the control of who I want to be a part of the right team for the success of the artists. So you’ll be working with producers that I feel will understand the mission of Long Road Records. For now, until he can’t handle you or finds someone else, Price will be working as your manager. But he’s good at what he does. Took a chance on me once, and now he’s willing to do the same with you since you’re our first guinea pigs. I’d trust him with my life.” A haunted look passes over her eyes for a split second.
“And A&R?” My icy tone holds more bitterness than I intend.
“We’re just starting out, so I don’t have my entire team put together yet. For the time being, you may have to deal with what you’ve got. Although I hope we can convince that pit viper, Aislynn, that you’re more than a sexy lead singer with a backup band. And to back off shaping who you guys are through terrible wardrobe choices and online posts.”
Stacia’s dislike for the internet and how it can warp perception works in our favor. Shit, the online media’s portrayal of her being too stupid to last in the business misses the mark by miles. With her help and business plan, maybe those like Aislynn will back the fuck off, and Tailgate Down can succeed on its own merit.
She stands up. “Listen. I’m not gonna lie. It’ll be a longer haul than what Aislynn’s trying to sell you. You’ll have to work harder at marketing yourselves. And I won’t have the money to pave the way for you to become country stars immediately. But with hard work, the right production team, and the room for you guys to help develop how you break into things, I think we can form a lifelong successful partnership.” She sticks out her hand. “Does this sound anything like something y’all would be interested in?”
“Where the hell can I sign?” EJ blurts.
Hart and Levi look at Mac and me. If something sounds too good to be true, then shouldn’t we walk away? We already got ourselves way in over our head before. At the same time, I trust her word based on the implications of her experience.
I stand up as representative of the band and take her hand in mine. “Deal.”
Stacia texts on her phone, and everyone minus the two suits walk back in. Price welcomes us as the first artists signed to Long Road Records. Aislynn’s wide smile and silence speak volumes. Her business demeanor probably masks the schemes running through her head of how to stay on Stacia’s good side. We’ll have to negotiate losing that conniving bitch if at all possible. Despite her negative energy, no one can pop the cloud the five of us walk on.
We take a few casual pics with Stacia, but nothing official. Since we’re her first band, she plans to do a smaller reveal for her imprint online, using the tool that both broke her and built her back up into the megastar she is. But we’re all invited over to her house for an informal celebration party in a couple of nights. As everyone exits the room, she hugs each one of us and thanks us. Price adds a strong handshake. He and Mac corner each other outside and talk while the rest wait on me.
Stacia holds me back from the others and places her hands on my arms. “One more thing. We have to talk about what we can do with that song ‘Wind Blows West’ and who that girl is that sang it with you in the video.” She gives me a final hug, and I escort her out of the room.
Only one other person can make me feel any better than I do right now, and she’s the first person I’m calling to tell.
36
Mel
There are nights when the world’s brighter, the jokes are funnier, the laughs are louder, and nothing goes wrong. Hunter has given me more nights like tonight than any other person in my life. Like someone adjusted the brightness and contrast nobs so that the blur becomes blinding.
I could listen to Hunter gush for hours about the new deal and Long Road Records. With Stacia Rollins and Price Howard handling the band’s career, maybe he’ll get the happy ending he’s been dreaming about. Even the selfie she took with the band makes me smile. I ache to be with him. Each time he asks me about coming to visit, I keep deflecting. But tonight, I’m staying after work to talk to Trey about taking some time off so I can go celebrate with my man.
The rush of seeing him, holding him, touching him in maybe less than a week energizes me. No request gets refused tonight. Ladies’ Night rocks! All bitches welcome! Whatever anyone wants, they get. Even the fruitiest of drinks. My motto for the night: Fuck yeah!
“What drug are you taking?” Shane ribs me as we maneuver around each other.
I smile. “Nothing.”
“My ass. You haven’t stopped grinning all night. It’s an unusual look for you. Makes you look—”
“Beautiful? Sexy? Badass? Be careful how you finish that sentence, Shane. I can still take your balls in a split second.”
“And, the bitch is back. Good. Harley needs six shots of Blue Balls for one of her tables.”
Not even one eye roll from me. I set up six low-ball glasses and begin the show. Anyone can mix the ingredients together fo
r a drink. But do it with a little style, and everyone gets a little entertainment with their buzz. And we get more tips. It’s been a while since I’ve performed, and Shane throws a towel over his shoulder and leans back in silent challenge.
The trick to entertaining drinkers comes in the flash, the wow factor. Shane and our bar-back will kill me for dirtying so much of our equipment, but if my moves work, the good vibes of the customers may pay out in attitude and cash. No fancy throws or anything that can fail with loud broken glasses. I’m going for the multi pour. Shane has me beat with four. No better time to kick his ass.
The music changes over to a familiar hard rock tune with a heavy beat. Perfect for a show. With the help of the customers hanging by the bar, I get the crowd interested. Challenging Shane in beating his record revs the girls to cheer me on. I set up six cold tins, fill them with ice to the right height to equal the width of the glasses. Each one gets the same ingredients. Stacking the metal tins up on top of each other, I position an empty smaller one on top. Grasping the base one firmly, I pull the tins so that they line up against each other like a spine and tip them slowly over the glasses. The blue shots pour out into each of them one after the other. The crowd cheers, and Harley high-fives me as she loads them on her tray.
Shane saunters over to me. “Game is so on.”
We set up more ordered shots and cocktails, asking the customers to get as crazy as they want. Shane does a multi pour of six different colored shots, earning him female adoration and at least one phone number. I mix four different kinds of martinis, and the night progresses until money pours in.
At one point, one lonely boyfriend at the end of the bar pouts because of Shane’s turn pulling the attention of his girlfriend. I make a show of adding him into my routine in front of his girl. She shoots the entire thing on her phone as I give him the tins and tell him how to pour out the three drinks I’ve mixed. His hands shake a bit, but he hits every single glass, a smile beaming on his face. Before the two take off, he shakes my hand, slipping two folded up twenties into mine and thanking me for making him the man.