“No. Hyde Love, an artist.” Truman hit a button on a remote. “A country artist.”
Tassia focused on the screen. A tall, incredibly good-looking man – emphasis on man – populated the screen. He looked tall on the screen, but that could have been due to camera angles. Through his backward baseball cap, she spotted his light brown hair. His scruffy beard kept him from looking like a teenager like Dorian. At one point, Hyde looked directly into the camera. Tassia had been told that for an African-American woman, her green eyes looked hypnotic. She didn’t see it. Now looking at Hyde’s eyes, she understood.
Tassia looked away from the screen before she got sucked in even more. “Looks like he’s a good performer.”
“And the singing. What did you think about his singing and the song?” Chantel grabbed the remote and turned up the song.
Tassia brought her attention back to the screen. She hadn’t been a big fan of country music, even the crossover version. Hyde sang a song about finding the one when a person figured out and fixed their flaws, kind of deep for what Tassia imagined for country songs.
“He sounds good.” She shrugged. “Song sounds good. I like that he’s singing about more than beer and hayrides.”
Truman cleared his throat. “Nothing wrong with songs about beer and maybe more beer.”
Damn. Tassia had a feeling she would have to do her research about her boss. She knew Chantel’s catalogue. As a fan, she devoured her music. Despite Truman marrying her idol and being her boss, she didn’t listen to a lot of his music. She knew that any song she had given him, he killed it.
“So what’s the deal with him?” Tassia crossed her legs. “Is he a Charisma artist?”
“Not really. We’re trying something new. We want to try something new. We’ve met with his management, and we want to do another album of duets where we cross genres.” Truman stopped the video.
Oh, no. Tassia saw the writing on the wall.
“We want you to do an album with Hyde.” Chantel beamed. “Bring your soul edge along with his country flavor to make something groundbreaking.”
Tassia volleyed her attention between Truman and Chantel. “Like what you two did.”
Chantel glanced at Truman. “Something like that. We think that now is the time to cross boundaries, show people that being different doesn’t mean you can’t work together.”
Tassia had to wrap her mind around several concepts. Her first album would be a duet with a country singer she didn’t know. It sounded like Chantel and Truman saw this as some sort of political statement.
“I don’t know.” Tassia shook her head. “I envisioned my first album having my own sound.”
Chantel sat up straighter. “It still will. Truman and I want you and Hyde to write all of the music on the album.”
“Does the album have to have a political slant? I don’t think I want my brand to be that.” Tassia tried hard to get out of this situation as tactfully as possible.
Chantel furrowed her eyebrows. “So you hate being called a ‘hook girl,’ but given the opportunity to do something substantial, you don’t want to do that?”
Tassia didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She had to turn this around and put this in her favor. “I truly appreciate you two thinking about me for this special project. I can tell it means a lot to you. I don’t know if I can give this project the right flavor it needs.” She grabbed her purse strap to signal she wanted to go.
Chantel looked at Truman before dropping her gaze for a beat. “I understand. I’m sure you’re exhausted. We are asking for a lot from you.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Tassia stood.
“We do. I hope you understand that right now work at Charisma has slowed. Lots of tours are ending, so not a lot of work for backup singers. Christmas albums have wrapped for the upcoming season. And no need for studio work.” Chantel stood. “Enjoy your time off.” She put her hand out. “If you decide that you change your mind about recording, let us know.”
Shit.
Tassia smiled as she shook Chantel’s hand. In a nutshell, her boss laid out Tassia’s financial future at the label. Do the duets album and get paid, or do nothing and have no work.
She had a lot to mull over and not a lot of time. So much for a summer vacation.
* * * *
“I love you, Hyde!” A female fan screamed through the darkened window of his limousine.
Thankfully the fan couldn’t see Hyde’s expression. He rubbed his eyes while hanging his head down. “Can we go, please?”
“What? You don’t like this attention?” Hyde’s manager looked at the chaos happening around the car. Abe enjoyed this attention more than Hyde, especially when the young women pulled their tops up and pressed their naked breasts against the glass.
The first time he saw that, Hyde couldn’t believe his luck. Of course, he saw his first set of naked boobs when he started in the business at eleven. Fifteen years later, the allure of this strange unconditional love from strangers all seemed foreign, unreal, unnatural. After all this time, Hyde longed for something real, something substantial.
The limo eased up a little before finally pulling away from the ravenous crowd. Once on the interstate, Hyde removed his cap, now an unexpected signature trademark, and tossed it on the seat next to him.
“Great show.” Abe pulled out his phone and started typing over the screen. “Put the hat back on and smile.” He held his phone up to Hyde’s face.
“Will you give me a break? No photos right now, all right? I just want to chill. Can’t I just…” He leaned back, kicking his legs out front of him and crossing them at the ankles.
“Your fans want to know all about you.” Even with his eyes closed in the darkened ride, he saw through his eyelids a bright flash. “They’ll have to accept a picture of you sleeping.”
“Damn it.” Hyde shook his head. “Does every part of me have to be for sale?”
“If you want to sell records and sell out arenas, yeah. You have to give up a bit of yourself. Besides, you have more sales that that Justin kid out right now doing the pop thing. That’s unheard of in country. Not since Garth Brooks and Tim McGraw.” Abe knocked his foot against Hyde’s. “You have broken barriers.” He cleared his throat. “That reminds me. Are you awake enough to discuss business?”
“No,” Hyde replied flatly.
He really didn’t want to talk about anything except for maybe a scheduled break. He hadn’t had one of those in several years. Between recording, touring, interviews, and other appearances, Hyde’s life no longer belonged to him. Record labels and fans dictated every part of his existence.
“Okay, I’ll talk. If you fall asleep and miss what I’m saying, I’ll tell it to you again later.” Abe clicked the overhead light in the limo.
“Light off.” Hyde didn’t ask for much, and he couldn’t really be qualified as a diva. Quiet and silence came at a premium. Whenever he could get it, he demanded it.
“Fine.” Abe turned the light back off. “So I had an interesting conversation with Truman Woodley.”
Hyde lifted his head and tried looking at his manager in the darkened car. Although Truman started recording professionally only a few years ago, Hyde liked his style. He especially liked the fact that Truman recorded songs with heart and substance, post “Beer and More Beer.” Being married to Shauna Stellar must have changed his whole perspective.
Hyde almost wished he could find a true love like that. In his business, he didn’t know who wanted what from him. Fans wanted his time. Some women who went after him wanted his money. Other artists, especially the newer ones, wanted his fame. Truman didn’t seem to fit in any of those categories. He married the most famous woman in music.
“What did Truman say?” Hyde hated that Abe baited him into this conversation. His curiosity got the better of him.
“Truman and Cha
ntel are looking to do an album of duets. They checked out your catalogue of music, and they like your style. They want to know if you want in.” Even in the darkness, Abe’s teeth shined brightly.
“Are you serious? Truman wants do an album of duets with me, not his ultra-famous wife? Doesn’t make sense.” Hyde sat up and drew his feet back.
“The duets wouldn’t be with Truman or Shauna or Chantel or whatever she’s calling herself nowadays. It would be with you and one of their artists.” Abe looked at his screen and started typing something over it.
“Do you know who? They have lots of different artists signed to them.”
“So you’re interested.” Abe rubbed his hands together like he wanted money.
“I’m curious. There’s a distinct difference.” Hyde scratched the back of his head.
“We’re in North Carolina. It’s a hop, skip, and a jump to Virginia. I can set up a meeting with Truman and his wife. That is if you’re still curious.” Abe had a playful lilt to his voice.
Hyde thought about the possibilities. Lately he had lost the love he had with country music. Maybe this would give him the boost he needed.
“Set it up.” Hyde settled back in the seat.
“Done.”
Hyde would see if this new project would give him the love that he lost in music. If it didn’t, he had to reevaluate his desire to stay in the business.
Meet the Author
Crystal B. Bright graduated with a B.A. from Old Dominion University with a major in Creative Writing and a minor in Communications with an emphasis on Public Relations. She earned her M.A. from Seton Hill University in Writing Popular Fiction. For more information about Crystal and her writing, please visit her website at www.CrystalBrightWriter.com. You can also find her at https://www.facebook.com/crystal.bright.397, or follow her on Twitter @CrystalBBright.
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