by Cathy Cole
That was true, Rhi realized. Slowly she moved round to the other side of the car, opened the heavy door and slid into the leather interior beside the person she least wanted to see in the whole entire world.
“You don’t do nice things unless there’s something in it for you,” Rhi said, mentally preparing herself for a fight. “What do you want?”
Eve studied her nails, letting her hair fall across her face. “You don’t have a great impression of me, do you?”
“I have plenty of reasons for that,” Rhi retorted.
Eve shrugged. “I guess you do.” She leaned forward and tapped on the glass separating her and Rhi from the driver. “Take us to Cliffside, Paulo,” she instructed. Checking the little silver watch on her wrist, she added, “And do hurry up. This guy won’t wait all afternoon.”
Rhi wondered fleetingly if Eve was going to bury her under one of her dad’s construction projects. She sat tensely on the leather seat and gazed out of the window. Maybe she should text Polly to let her know she was in trouble.
Eve spent the journey texting, her manicured nails flashing up and down the neat little screen on her smartphone. The black car cruised through a part of Heartside Bay Rhi had never seen before. Huge cliffs towered over them on the right, and the sea was directly to their left.
Eventually the car drew up in front of a magnificent beach house. Rhi stared at the neatly painted clapboard walls, the clipped topiary hedges, the decking that looped the whole way around the building. A grand white gate at the back of the house opened right on to the beach, with a footpath snaking through whispering marram grass towards the white sand and the sea.
“Finally,” Eve said with a roll of her eyes. “I thought we’d never get here. Wait, will you, Paulo? We’ll be about half an hour.”
Rhi got slowly out of the car. “What is this place?” she asked cautiously.
Eve opened her arms. “Surprise! Max has told me everything.”
Rhi felt the colour drain from her face. This was it. The end.
“Max has told you… what, exactly?” she whispered.
Eve wagged a finger. “What did I tell you about nasty little men coming up to you at weddings with business cards? Of course he was a fraud. I smelled that one a mile off.” She nodded at the beach house. “This guy is the real thing.”
It was a few moment before Rhi managed to calm her racing heart. She stared at the extraordinary house, as different from Dave Dubois’s cat-smelling flat as it was possible to be. “A scout lives here?”
“Not a scout,” Eve said, heading towards the grand front door. “The best producer in the business. He’s a business acquaintance of Dad’s. I pulled some strings and put in a call and he said he’d see you today.” She checked her watch again and tutted. “But we are seriously running out of time. Come on.”
Rhi felt like all the breath had been punched out of her. “But, why?” she stammered, following Eve up the path.
“Because I wanted to do a good deed, I guess,” Eve said, with a lift of one shoulder. “What’s the point in having money and influence if I never get to use it to help my friends? And maybe I owe you one after the business with Max,” she added, looking about as uncomfortable as Eve ever got. “This way, you can forgive me and things can go back to how they were.”
Rhi didn’t know what to say. This was overwhelming. “Thank you,” she managed.
Eve rang the front doorbell. “Hey,” she said generously. “It’s what friends do.”
A tall, handsome man in white jeans and an open-necked black shirt stood on the doorstep, raising his eyebrows enquiringly.
“Hello, I’m Eve Somerstown.” Eve held out her hand with the assurance of a movie star. Rhi could only marvel at her confidence. “You must be Andy Graves. This is Rhiannon Wills, the girl I told you about on the phone today.”
Andy Graves’ eyes flickered over Rhi. She felt like she was being assessed like a prize cow. If she’d known she was coming here, she could have dressed up a little. Her school uniform had never felt so terrible as it did right now.
“I don’t have long,” he said, sounding a little bored as he stood away from the door. “I’m on a conference call in fifteen minutes.”
Rhi’s throat went dry. This clearly important person was about to give her some of his time. What if she messed it up?
Andy Graves’ phone rang as they stepped inside. He pulled a phone from his shirt pocket. “Contracts will be with you nine a.m. Pacific Standard Time,” Rhi heard him say. “Half a mil up front sounds right. Do it. Talk later.”
Rhi started to feel seriously terrified. Half a mil? Half a million pounds? Maybe dollars? And wasn’t Pacific Standard Time Los Angeles? This guy made Dave Dubois look like a funfair sideshow.
Andy Graves slid his phone back into his pocket and studied Rhi with intent blue eyes. “You have a good look,” he said. “Even in that hideous uniform. Can you sing?”
“She sings really well, Mr Graves,” said Eve. “You won’t be disappointed.”
Andy Graves continued looking at Rhi.
“I… think so, yes,” Rhi stammered. “I have a demo but I don’t have it with me. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Come out to the studio, we’ll put you in the booth and record you,” he interrupted, checking his watch. “And please,” he added, “don’t sing me any Adele songs. I’ve heard the real thing.”
Eve gave Rhi a gentle shove in the small of her back. Numbly Rhi followed Andy Graves through the bright, sunlit house, and out into the artfully designed beach garden. A large wooden building stood behind the house, glass windows gleaming in the setting sun. Andy Graves opened the door and ushered Rhi inside. She gazed at the mess of fibre-optic cables, the microphones, the sound desk and headphones and gold discs framed on the walls. An acoustic guitar stood propped against one wall in the soundproofed recording booth.
“Mic the right height?” Andy Graves asked. “I’m going to record you. We can take it from there.”
If she was going to do this, Rhi decided, she had to do it right. She eyed the guitar. “Could I borrow that?”
She could hardly believe they were her own hands stretching out to receive the acoustic guitar Andy Graves was handing her. She could see Eve through a glass wall, lounging back on a comfortable chair like she sat in famous producers’ recording studios every day.
Rhi lifted the cushiony headphones beside the microphone and settled them on her head. Focus, she thought as she tuned the guitar. Your life depends on these next fifteen minutes.
“Sound check,” said Andy Graves, now on the other side of the glass with Eve. “Say something for me, Rhiannon. I need to get the levels right.”
Rhi leaned in to the mic. “Um, hi. It’s Rhi. My mum only calls me Rhiannon when I’m in trouble.”
“Fine. Good. Rhi. Ready when you are.”
The guitar felt strange in Rhi’s hands. She cleared her throat. “This is a song I wrote called ‘Heartbreaker’.”
She fluffed the intro. Her fingers felt like sausages.
“Take your time,” Andy Graves said in her ears.
Rhi began again, plucking the strings carefully. Her fingers settled into the rhythm. Her emotions poured into the song.
“Heartbreaker, lead me astray…”
It was just her and the headphones, the guitar and the words she had written to express her private heartbreak. She wasn’t inside a recording studio. She wasn’t inside Max’s room. She was inside herself.
She was almost surprised as her fingers fell away from the final chord.
“Come back here, will you, Rhi?” said Andy Graves after a moment.
Rhi took off the guitar and set it against the wall. She opened the adjoining door from the recording booth, feeling so nervous she wondered if she was going to be sick.
Eve’s face was unreadable as Andy Grave
s flicked a switch and played the song back, commenting as they went along.
“A bit pitchy there… fell off that note… not sure that transition worked… you need to work harder on your breathing, it’s all over the place…”
The criticism continued right to the end of the song. Her cheeks stung with humiliation. Rhi had never been so glad to hear the final chord of “Heartbreaker” in her life.
“Thank you for your time, Mr Graves,” she mumbled at the shining wooden floorboards under her feet. “I’ll go now.”
ELEVEN
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he said. A smile was splitting the producer’s face in half.
Rhi blinked. “What?”
“I said,” Andy Graves repeated, smiling more broadly, “you’re not going anywhere. Hold on a second.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed a button. “Susi? Postpone my conference call, will you? Shall we say an hour?”
Eve, normally so unflappable, sat with her eyes fixed on Rhi’s face, looking as shocked as Rhi felt.
“You… you like me?” Rhi said incredulously.
“I love you.” Andy Graves’ blue eyes were now as warm as the Caribbean sea. “Your voice needs a little work, but your depth of tone and feeling remind me of some of the greats.”
Rhi had never loved her ex-friend as much as she did right at this moment. Eve had made the impossible possible. Impulsively, she threw her arms around the red-haired girl. Eve briefly returned the hug, then pushed Rhi back.
“There’s no need to get soppy,” she said briskly. But Rhi could see that she was smiling.
Andy Graves opened the door of the recording studio and ushered them out into the darkening garden. “There is a great deal I want to do for you, Rhi,” he said, striding towards the house. Rhi and Eve had to run in order to keep up. “You’ll need a complete makeover, of course. I know a band that’s looking for a new lead singer. You would be the ideal replacement. They have a recording contract in place and are coming down to record in my studio next month. We’ll go up to London next week and meet them…”
“Next week?” Rhi squeaked.
“That sounds acceptable, Mr Graves,” said Eve.
Rhi didn’t know how Eve could sound so cool. She was having difficulty keeping her feet on the ground. This was all happening so fast. Lead singer of a band? What kind of band?
Andy Graves laughed. “I’m glad to hear it’s acceptable. Questions?”
Rhi had so many, it was difficult knowing where to start. She grasped for the question that, to her, felt like the most important one in her head right now.
“Did you like my song?” she said. “Or… or just my voice?”
“Your song was adorable.” Andy Graves ruffled the top of Rhi’s head.
Rhi felt oddly deflated.
“But this band I have in mind are going to be the next big thing, especially with you at the helm,” Andy Graves went on. “You could be touring next year. I’ll have my assistant call and set up a meeting to discuss contracts as soon as possible. There’s no time to waste. The music industry moves fast, young lady. We have to move with it.”
The next half hour passed in a whirl of words. Agents, PR, promos, managers, session rates, digital downloads. Rhi sat in a haze on a large white sofa in the brightly lit sitting room, letting it flow over her like water. She couldn’t help feeling they were discussing someone she didn’t even know.
“Good,” said Andy Graves, clapping his hands briskly to indicate, Rhi supposed, that the meeting was over. “I’ll have my assistant call and set up a meeting to discuss contracts in more detail. Make sure you leave good contact numbers. I’ll be in touch.”
Outside, Paulo the driver clicked the passenger door shut behind Rhi and Eve and slid into the driver’s seat. As the engine roared into life, Rhi pressed her palms to the car window, watching Andy Graves spotlit by his big beach house with one hand raised in farewell.
They were halfway up the road when Eve suddenly whooped: “My God, Rhi, he liked you. Do you have any idea how unusual that is?” She flopped back against the leather seats, looking smug. “I knew I’d done the right thing getting that guy on board. You’re going to be famous!”
“This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me,” Rhi said, shaking her head.
Eve patted her arm. “It does now. Let’s go to the Heartbeat and celebrate. I’ll let the others know we’ll be there in half an hour. They are going to bust a gut.”
Thanks to some swift texting on Eve’s phone, everyone was waiting for them at the Heartbeat. Rhi had barely squeezed through the café door before she was jumped on and hugged half to death by her friends.
“You sneaky thing!” said Lila in delight. “How come you didn’t tell anyone you were going to see a real producer?”
“I didn’t know,” Rhi said, high-fiving Ollie. “Eve did it all.”
Eve gave an elegant shrug.
“And he was the real thing?” Polly said, her eyes wide and amazed. “Not another dodgy money-maker like that guy and his smelly cat-flat?”
Rhi hugged Polly tightly. “If his house was anything to go by, he was the real thing all right. You should have seen the size of his living room!”
“Of course he was the real thing,” said Eve, rolling her eyes and flopping down at their usual table. “I wouldn’t have contacted him otherwise.”
“That’s fantastic news, Rhi,” said Max warmly, coming forward to hug her.
Rhi tried not to stiffen. How was she supposed to manage her feelings for Max, now that Eve had done this incredible thing for her?
“Celebrating something?”
Ryan had appeared at their table, his notepad poised for orders.
“You could say so,” Lila grinned.
Ollie flung an arm round Rhi. “This girl is going to be famous!” he announced.
“Awesome,” said Ryan enthusiastically. “Is it your singing, Rhi?”
“Well, it’s hardly going to be her tap dancing,” Eve drawled.
“Don’t be mean, Eve,” Lila said with a sigh. “Frappé for me, Ryan. Anyone else?”
Poor Ryan, thought Rhi, as he scribbled down their orders with his fringe over his eyes as usual. Lila only had to speak and he turned as red as a tomato. It was clear that he wanted to hang out and share the gossip, but his dad was calling him back to the bar.
One person was missing from the celebrations, Rhi thought, sitting back on the bench with Polly and Eve on either side of her. It was Friday, though. Maybe he’d be performing later. Maybe he’d come through the door, with his fruit-sticker guitar slung over his shoulder and his bright blue eyes gleaming, ready to wow the weekend crowd. Just now, she felt as if Brody Baxter was the only person who would help her make sense of what was happening to her.
“Ryan?” she called, feeling strangely nervous.
Ryan turned back hopefully.
“Is Brody playing tonight?”
Ryan scratched his ear with his pencil. “Not tonight, no. He’s at the Stag’s Head down on the coast road.”
Rhi was surprised at the strength of her disappointment. You’ve only met him once, she reminded herself. He’s probably forgotten who you are by now. Why did it feel so important? This was exactly what she had always wanted, wasn’t it?
“Hey,” said Eve, nudging her. “What’s with the faraway look? You’re the star tonight, Rhi, not surfer boy.”
Rhi thought she saw Max’s eyes flicker in annoyance at the mention of Brody Baxter. Refusing to let herself dwell on it, she smiled at Eve instead. “None of this would have happened without you,” she said honestly. “I am so grateful. You didn’t have to do any of it.”
Eve looked pleased. “When I feel like doing something, I do it. I’m just glad it worked out.” She squeezed Rhi’s arm. “So we’re friends again? We can put everything else beh
ind us?”
Eve’s smile seemed so hopeful, and her grey eyes so uncharacteristically uncertain, that Rhi felt convulsed with guilt all over again. She had kissed Max twice in the last few days, and enjoyed every lip-tingling moment. She had to move on. Let Eve have Max, she told herself. It’s the least you can do.
“It’s great to have you back,” she said honestly. “You may have just changed my life.”
Eve’s eyes blazed with pleasure. “Do you mean that?”
Rhi pulled out her warmest smile. “Of course I mean it, you idiot.” And she did. Eve could be difficult sometimes, there was no doubt about it, but she’d always been a good friend – at least until she’d stolen Max. And Rhi realized that she’d been missing her. And now Eve had just given her this incredible opportunity. Thinking about Andy Graves’ reaction to her singing made Rhi want to jump on the table and crow like a cockerel. It really was what she’d always wanted, she told herself.
So why did something about it not feel quite right?
TWELVE
It took until breakfast on Saturday for Rhi to work up the nerve to tell her parents about Andy Graves. Her mum was the first to react.
“This man wants what?” she said, half-rising from the table. Even on a Saturday, she was dressed as if she were about to go to work.
Rhi poured juice into her glass, trying not to let her hand shake. “He wants to sign me as the lead singer of this band he’s got, and he wants a meeting to discuss a contract. I gave him our home number because I’m underage and he needs to speak to you about everything.”
“Rhi, be serious,” said her mother with a strangled laugh. “You’re still at school. You have exams, a future to consider. What kind of person wants a young girl in the middle of a promising academic career to front a pop band?”
The way her mother said “pop” made Rhi wince. “He’s a real professional, Mum,” she said, desperate for her mother to understand. “He has gold discs on his wall. And this amazing recording studio in his garden, and he was taking a call from LA when Eve and I got to his house. He’s genuine, Mum, I know he is.”