by Mandy Baggot
‘What are you so afraid of, Honor? D’you think if you listen to country music Tammy Wynette’s gonna leap out of that iPod and hit you with a six string?’
‘Listen, me inviting you in for a drink doesn’t give you a right to ask me questions like that,’ she snapped back.
‘How can you fight what’s in your soul like that? Listenin’ to stuff like this - manufactured, weak, poorly-constructed bullshit - when you feel nothin’ for it?’ he continued.
She shook her head. She shouldn’t have invited him in. It was a step too far. Going to the studios again was one thing, inviting a man into her home, one who wanted her performing to thousands of people every night…it was madness.
‘I’m sick and tired of people thinking they know what’s best for me! You, Larry, Mia and him! Seeing him tonight, seeing the man I used to share a life with, living my dream … ’ She stopped when she realized she was getting more and more worked up. Damn him! She was letting him get to her. She swallowed then took a jagged breath. ‘When we were together, after my attack … Dan Steele wanted me to spend some time in a mental health facility out of state.’
She looked across the room and watched the light go out of his eyes.
He bit his teeth together and tried to remain in control. That asshole. She had had a relationship with that fucking piece of scum. He wanted to yell at the top of his voice. He wanted to pick something up and smash it to pieces. Instead he sat there, keeping it all inside, fighting to temper his anger.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve had way too much to drink and you don’t want to hear about this.’
He put the beer bottle to his mouth and drank down as much as he could in one gulp. He wished he’d laid Dan Steele out and left him unconscious on the floor.
‘Tell me,’ he urged.
‘We didn’t date for long…a couple of months. Then…well I had my accident and…he suggested what he suggested and we broke up.’ His interest was piqued. His eyes found hers again.
‘He thought after something like that you should recover quick or be locked away?’ he asked.
She touched her hair, bringing it over her cheek. ‘He didn’t deal with it very well.’
‘He had the easy role.’ He hadn’t meant to but the tone he’d attached to his voice was pure aggression.
She shrugged, turning her body to the side in a defensive move. ‘After it happened he…he couldn’t look at me.’
Before he could check himself he’d shaken his head and slammed the bottle down on the coffee table that separated them. He put a hand to his head, and clenched the other into a fist.
‘I should have plastered his face across the walls of that bar.’ He shifted on the seat, uneasy and mad as hell.
‘I don’t blame him for that. I mean, at the beginning I was on the cover of Country Music and after, well I’d have been lucky to make it onto Plastic Surgeon’s Monthly.’ She shrugged and let out an unconvincing laugh.
There was an ugly-looking ornament on a low table to his right. He curled his fingers into his palm and thought about throwing it against the wall. Instead he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his iPhone.
‘Kill this crap,’ he said, indicating the music.
She clapped her hands twice and the room was thrown into silence.
‘After we met last week, I couldn’t get that song outta my head. I hope you don’t mind.’ He touched the screen.
The second the first note played she recognized it as her song, Goodbye Joe. But the way he’d changed the phrasing, the way he’d altered the composition was nothing short of masterful. The more she heard, the more she realized what he’d done. He’d made the bones of her song into something that sounded like it could be a hit record.
But she didn’t want that. Her songs were her songs. They weren’t for changing and they weren’t for public consumption. She shook her head. No, she couldn’t think like that anymore, not if she wanted this second chance at a career. She was just about to go back to the studios and start recording new material. She’d be working with a producer, other musicians with ideas. There was also always the possibility that another artist would want to cover her music. She couldn’t get protective and insular like that anymore.
The real truth was it felt uncomfortable sitting opposite someone in the country spotlight who had taken her rough start to a song and made it into something…special.
On the iPhone his voice hit a note on the bridge and goose bumps ran up her arms. The tone and edge to his vocals was so raw, so powerful. It was as if he told a story with every line he sang.
The song came to an end and she sat unmoved, holding onto the last note in her head.
‘I have this principle I’ve stuck with since I started.’ He picked up the phone. ‘I never record anything but my own material and I don’t intend changin’ that.’
She watched him. He put the phone back in the pocket of his jeans and picked up his beer bottle.
‘Work with me here, Honor. Let’s try some stuff together,’ he suggested.
She was already shaking her head before he’d finished the sentence. She’d barely got her mind around the fact she was going back to the industry next week. Working with another artist on new material, it wasn’t something she’d done before. It wasn’t even something she’d considered before.
‘What happens then? We write some songs together and you force me on tour with you?’ The statement had come out a lot harsher than she’d meant.
‘Honor, I’d never force you to do anything.’
She swallowed as she looked at him. That comment had hit him hard. He was breathing heavy and biting his bottom lip.
‘Listen, I made that track last week and I wanted you to hear it. That’s all. Thank you for the drink.’ He stood up, putting his hands in his pockets. She stood up too, feeling she ought to. He’d made it clear he was leaving.
He moved out of the room towards the hall, heading for the front door and Honor followed.
‘Do I have to command the door to open or does it work with the handle?’ he asked.
She opened it for him, letting in a draught of warm air. This felt awkward.
‘I’ll see you,’ he said, stepping out onto the porch and touching his hand to his cap in goodbye.
‘Jared.’ It was a desperate sound. Almost a cry for help.
He turned to face her. Those stormy gray eyes were wide. They looked soft and honest. She was suddenly blanketed in a feeling that she could trust him, implicitly. That she could tell him how she felt about things and he wouldn’t judge. It was a strong gut reaction and one which made her start talking.
‘So I’m…I’m at Black Monkey on Tuesday, about eleven for a couple of hours or so,’ she stated.
He didn’t say anything, just carried on watching her, as if waiting for her to continue.
‘I’ve never written a song with another artist before,’ she stated.
He shook his head and his lips spread into a smile. ‘Yes you have.’ He tapped the pocket of his jeans and the phone within. ‘We just heard it.’
Chapter Ten
‘How’s my little darlin’?’
She should have known Larry wouldn’t let her make her own way to the studios. Mia too had already called to remind her. No one trusted her to keep an arrangement. Or maybe they all knew how terrified she was. She was terrified, there was no point denying it, even to herself. She had changed four times and ended up back in the first shirt she’d picked out. It was plaid. She hadn’t worn it in years. It was everything she’d been and everything she wasn’t now. She brushed her hand down the front of it hoping to feel inspired. She smiled at Larry and let him in.
She led the way to the kitchen, grabbing up the flask of coffee she’d been drinking from. It tasted terrible but was giving her the caffeine buzz she needed.
‘A big day today, honey,’ Larry said, laying his hat on the island.
‘Oh, Larry, please stop with the loaded phrases and the over-the-top se
ntiment. I’m going to go to the studios. I said I would and I am and I don’t really need an escort,’ Honor responded. The coffee needed more sugar. She was sounding as bitter as it tasted.
‘I know that. I’m just coming with you for moral support that’s all,’ Larry said.
She took another large mouthful of coffee and almost gagged. She’d had far too much.
‘Everyone’s making more of this than there is. I know it’s been a long time but I do remember what a studio session’s like.’
‘Of course you do, darlin’, of course you do. I just…’ Larry stopped, as if unsure whether to continue.
‘What?’ She looked at him straight.
‘Heard you met Dan Steele on Friday night.’
Her shoulders hunched at the mention of him. She hid her expression against the flask. She knew Larry had caught the body language but she didn’t want him to see it in her eyes. Dan being in town had been a shock. She’d never considered their paths crossing in the future, although perhaps it had been naïve not to think about it. He was a country musician. His dream had been her dream. She remembered how badly he’d wanted the record deal, the fame and everything that went with it. He’d talked about it often enough. He’d tried to ride her career to get his own. No, that was harsh. She shook her head.
‘You OK?’ Larry asked.
‘You might have mentioned he was here in Nashville. You could have told me he had a stage name,’ she responded.
‘I didn’t know, honey, not ‘til I saw him. He’s in the Herald this morning. Been chosen as the indie act to open the Marlon Festival,’ Larry informed.
‘I thought you had your finger on the musical pulse.’
‘He’s an unsigned artist. That’s the talent scout’s concern not mine.’
He was right. It wasn’t his job to inform her if her ex-boyfriend was back in town.
‘Sorry,’ she offered.
‘Heard Jed Marshall almost ended up in a fight with him,’ Larry continued.
She tried not to react, put her mouth to the flask. So the town grapevine was working well. She wondered if Larry knew Jared had taken her home. If he did he was sure to have an opinion on it.
‘Loose cannon, Jed Marshall. Trouble follows him around.’
Honor gave him the biggest smile she could muster and replaced the flask on the counter.
‘So, are you ready darlin’?’ he asked.
‘Can we go the long way?’
The thought of a studio session had never fazed him before but today he was something like nervous. Friday night had been weird. Dan Steele turning up. Honor asking him to take her home. He knew she was fragile, that there was nothing in it. She was still getting used to the idea of going back to music. But he’d seen the expression on her face when she’d heard what he’d done to her song. She’d come alive in that moment. She’d shown herself to him. She was country. It ran through her veins, just like it did through his. She just needed some time and some support. Maybe it wasn’t his business to give it, but he was making it that way. Because of the tour. Because she was good. That was all. But, like it or not, he couldn’t deny when he heard her sing something inside him folded.
He picked a khaki shirt from the wardrobe and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned over his black vest top. He grabbed a cap from the dresser and put it on his head. He checked his watch, then snatched up the remote for the TV.
‘…and did you ever think this would happen?’ It was the blonde presenter of the morning show, her microphone stuck out for someone to comment into.
‘When you have a dream that’s so special to you…when you feel it in your heart and soul … you’re never going to give up on it.’
He felt his blood start to heat up as the interviewee came on camera. It was Dan fucking Steele on his TV. That asshole was on morning primetime! What the fuck was going on? He turned the volume up and paid attention.
‘So I guess opening the Marlon Festival is a dream come true but what you’d really love is a recording contract. Am I right?’
‘Sure, that’s the ultimate goal. I’ve been working the bars, getting some great feedback. I’ve also got a couple meetings lined up with some labels so we’ll see what happens. It’s all very exciting.’
Jared gritted his teeth. That stinking ass was going to end up being signed soon and then he’d be forced to interact with him professionally. In this industry there was little rivalry. He was good buddies with most of the top stars, but Dan Steele…he wasn’t sure he could put his feelings aside.
His cell phone started to ring. Buzz.
‘Hey, you’ve reached Jed Marshall. Leave a message after the beep,’ he spoke into the handset.
‘I know that’s you, Jed. So, tell me, are you ready to sign on with Raintown?’
‘I’ve got five days left. Listen, I’m gonna be pretty tied up today. Can you do somethin’ for me?’ He listened to Buzz’s aggravated breath before continuing. ‘Can you call Gear? I want you to make it clear to them that if they even think of signin’ Dan Steele…if they even think about thinkin’ about signin’ him…I’m out.’
‘You heard he’s opening the Marlon,’ Buzz stated.
‘I don’t care if he’s openin’ for Obama. There’s no way he’s gettin’ on my label. Make it clear, Buzz.’
He ended the call and punched the off button on the TV.
‘So, this is Milo, he’s your new lead guitarist and Greg and Johnny you already know.’
She was smiling so much her cheeks were hurting. Russell Johns from Black Monkey was doing the introductions and his violet-colored shirt was bringing on nausea. Greg and Johnny had been with her ten years ago. Neither of them looked changed at all. Greg’s beard still needed attention and she was sure Johnny was in the same pair of jeans he’d worn that last night on stage. She shook her head, trying to make the memory dissipate. She looked to Larry who was sat on the couch at the back of the room. He stood up and was at her side within seconds.
‘Are you OK darlin’?’ he spoke softly.
She was being ridiculous. Why was this such a big deal? Nothing bad had happened at the studios. This was how her life had been all the time before. She’d loved it. It had been all she’d wanted. It had been her everything. She’d spent days in the studio before, pulled all-nighters to get things right.
‘Could I get a glass of water?’ she asked. She cleared her throat.
Everyone was staring at her. Greg, Johnny, Milo the new guitarist, Larry and Russell. Why were they staring at her? It was only when she looked at her right hand she realized. She’d been pulling at her hair so hard some of it was in her fist.
She opened her mouth to speak but was distracted.
He rapped his knuckles on the Perspex screen that separated the editing booth from the recording studio. He’d had to work his charm on the receptionist on the front desk before he could get inside the inner sanctum of Black Monkey today. Now he was being gawped at by five guys and Honor who had a handful of hair clenched between her fingers.
He waved a hand at her and watched her cheeks pink up. He indicated the door. They were all looking at him but no one was making any move. He hit the glass with the silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand. Was there a fucking password or something?
‘Honor, honey, what’s Jed Marshall doing here?’ Larry asked, standing in front of her. He touched her chin with his finger and made her turn to look at him. She was still holding the hair. She didn’t know how it had happened. Why had she done that? How had she done that?
‘Jed Marshall is here,’ Larry repeated. ‘Do you know something about it? He hasn’t busted the door down but he’s looking as if he might like to, darlin’.’
She looked to the other side of the room. Jed had his palm on the glass. His eyes flicked over to the door and she watched his breath steam up the panel.
‘I…I can’t do this, Larry.’
She unclenched her hand, dropping the hair and bolting for the door.
&n
bsp; Chapter Eleven
She pushed open the door and didn’t stop. She wasn’t going to stop until she was out of Black Monkey and into some air. She was a couple of feet away from reaching the door back to reception when he grabbed her arm.
‘Hey, what’s goin’ on? Where you goin’?’
Where was she going? Out, was all she knew. Where next, she had no idea. Not for this moment, not for the next or any time after that.
‘I…’ She started to engage her mouth into speech but gave up. What could she say? She had just pulled out a clump of her hair because being back at the studio was freaking her out. How lame and pathetic was she? That wasn’t who she was. She didn’t run away from situations. She hadn’t even backed up when Simeon Stewart had pulled out the knife.
‘Hey, you’re shakin’. What were they makin’ you do? Sing Vince Gill?’
He had taken her hand, was holding it in his. The sensation was tipping the balance. Fear was flooding out of her and being replaced by warmth, a steady stream of grounding emotion. She entwined her fingers in between the rings on his.
‘You want to get out of here?’ he suggested. ‘I have a studio at home. No one says you have to do this here. OK, so Micro Records might think you need to do this here but…I actually have better equipment.’
She turned away from him, redirected her focus on the men from the room who were opening the door behind her. They would want an explanation. She didn’t have one. They would say everything was cool. It wasn’t. They would suggest she took five, had a coffee then tried again. She couldn’t do it.
‘Can we go to Target?’
She’d not said a word since they’d left the studios. She hadn’t commented on his pick-up truck, just got into the passenger seat and waited for him to drive. Now she was leading the way down the aisles in Target, stopping to pick up random items. Right now she was scrutinizing a porcelain owl priced at $2.99.
‘Do you collect ‘em?’
She flinched as if she’d forgotten he was even there. She was still so spooked. He should have got to the studios earlier, been there when she arrived. Whatever those pressurizing jerks had said or done it had sent her internally freefalling.