by Elle Viviani
I stare at her. “I haven’t seen the song list and now you’re wanting me to record an album? I haven’t even agreed to sign with Sunny.”
Rhonda returns my skeptical look with one of pure calm. “The pop world moves quickly. You have a few seconds of fame before another shining star steals the limelight. So we move fast, keep producing, and make sure your name stays in constant circulation. That includes getting a single out before your debut album, Ms. Hart.”
“But I’m not sure I want a debut pop—”
Cody slaps the table with his palm. “Music to our ears!”
Rhonda’s red lips spread into a wide smile. “Wonderful! Any further questions?”
“No, I think—”
“Yes,” I burst out, hitting the brakes on their little party. I have no idea what’s gotten into Cody. I realize he’s my manager, but I don’t like how he’s steering the conversation. “First, I’m not agreeing to anything today.”
“But babe.”
“Anything,” I repeat, throwing him a back off look. “I will look over this contract and be in touch about the possibility of moving forward.”
I exhale when Rhonda gives a terse nod. Things were headed off the rails for a moment back there. “Second, when’s your deadline for this?”
“I understand your tour begins in a few days?”
“That’s right.” I take a deep breath as the familiar nervous feeling rises in my chest. I always get panicky before a big tour like this and having, what I’m sure, is a multi-million dollar record label added to the mix does not help my nerves.
“Right.” Rhonda snaps her binder shut with a sense of finality. “Well, we’d like your answer before then.”
I frown. “Why the hurry?”
“I’m serious about getting your name out there. We have to act now. If all goes according to plan, we can release your debut pop album once this tour wraps up.”
I sit back with a dazed look. “But that’s in six weeks. Even if I sign your contract, I’d have to write the songs and work out the tempos…”
Rhonda holds up her hand. The rock on her ring finger looks more like a disco ball than a diamond. “Remember what our team is for, Ms. Hart. You won’t have to deal with any of that nonsense anymore. You can focus on the important things.”
Nonsense? Important things?
“Which are?” I ask testily.
“Image, marketing events, performances.” Her right eyelid closes in a conspiratorial wink. “The tour we’ll have you on will put this one to shame.”
“I see.” Dread settles over me as I lay my hands flat on the table and look Rhonda straight in the eye. “I’m afraid this won’t work.”
“Autumn,” Cody hisses to my right. I ignore him.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t make a decision like this days before a nation-wide tour.” I stand and gather my purse. “If Sunny’s not willing to give me more time for such an important commitment, then I’m afraid I can’t work with you.”
Cody’s jaw drops as I head for the door. “I’m so sorry for my client.”
Client?
Rhonda’s voice rings out across the conference room. “No need to leave just yet, Ms. Hart.” I pause as she pushes back from the table and stands. “You’ve made a compelling argument, and Sunny is willing to accommodate a talented artist such as yourself.”
Her eyes scan me as she joins me by the double doors, re-evaluating. “Please, take the next six weeks to think over our offer. You may inform us of your decision after your tour.”
I glance down at the manicured hand offered to me. “Really?”
“Yes.” She smiles when I take her hand. “I do have one favor to ask of you, though…”
I nod for her to go on.
“I’d like to introduce a few changes to your tour that may ease your hesitation to sign with us. Country and pop are different, yes, but different doesn’t necessarily mean bad.”
The corners of my eyes crinkle. “What kind of changes?”
“Additions to your stage presence, PR events, a few trips to the recording studio to give our songs a chance.” Her narrow shoulders rise and fall. “Nothing major, and all on your schedule. You wouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Hmmm… Sounds too good to be true.
“I’ll think about it.”
Rhonda rushes on. “Trust me when I say these additions will augment your tour, not hinder it.”
I find myself wavering as her arguments begin to make sense. Everything she’s proposing sounds reasonable and safe, and I won’t say no to something that may “augment my tour”. “Would I still have artistic license over everything?”
Her eyes widen. “Of course! I’ll work everything out with your manager, and again, it’ll only be what you choose to do. I promise you won’t even notice the additions.”
I glance back at Cody. There’s a look of sheer desperation on his face. He’s always telling me this is the next step, so why am I hesitating?
Because I’m not pop, I’m country… Well, who says I can’t be a little bit of both?
I nod. “Deal.”
“Fabulous!” A cloud of Chanel No. 5 descends over me as she leans in and plants a kiss on my cheeks. “I’ll have my assistant contact you, dear, and don’t worry about a thing!”
With a hurried exchange of goodbyes, she leaves the conference room and clacks down the hall out of sight. Cody and I share a long look before he lets out a whoop of triumph.
“Why are you celebrating?” I ask with no hint of cheer.
“Because Sunny Records is interested in us, babe!” He gives me a sharp look. “Though you seemed hell-bent on pulling the plug for a second there.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “And why do you think I’d do that?”
Cody shrugs. “No clue.”
“Oh, please. I thought you had all the answers.”
“Wait, you’re mad?”
My patience reaches its limit.
“Are you serious?” I explode. “You blindsided me! Cody, what the hell? This was a preliminary meeting and they had a record deal drawn up.”
“I thought this is what you wanted,” he argues as I throw myself into a chair. “You said you would hear their offer.”
“I said I was interested in taking their meeting, I never expected things to get legal.” I bury my face in my hands with a groan. “You went behind my back, didn’t you? They clearly knew enough about me to draw up a contract.”
Cody slumps into the chair next to me. “I know what I’m doing, and I know what’s best here. This is a dream come true!”
I look at him. “Whose dream? It’s not mine, not like this, anyway. Not writing my own songs? No creative control? Changes, image specialists—it wasn’t a good deal.” I throw him a look when he doesn’t answer. “You know it, don’t lie.”
“Anything Sunny Records gives you is a good deal. Wanting everything to be exactly how you want it straight outta the gate?” He leans in and cradles my face between his palms. “Babe, that’s just not gonna happen.”
“Then I’m not interested.” I cut him off as he begins to argue. “You’re not listening to me, Cody, and I pay you to listen to me.”
A hurt look comes over his handsome face. “Is that all I am to you?”
“Don’t do that.”
I’m about to stand when Cody leans over.
“You look beautiful when you’re mad…” His lips press against my neck, my chin, my cheek. “…and I’m sorry.”
A slow smile builds on my lips despite my effort to stay angry. I hate how he does this to me.
“Just don’t ever spring something like this on me again. I need to know what’s going on, okay?” A wave of exhaustion settles over me as Cody nods. My tour starts tomorrow, and instead of being rested and bright-eyed, I’m worn down and tired.
In a move I’ve come to know well, Cody thumbs my chin and brings my face toward his. “You’re not going to regret working with Sunny. Th
ey’re only here to help.”
“I hope so.”
“Trust me, babe,” he says before his lips cover mine. I’ve just relaxed into the kiss when he pulls back. “Alright, time we got this show on the road!”
He stands and walks toward the stack of paper lying on the glossy tabletop. “I’ll look this over and get back to you.”
I grab my Rockstud Valentino bag off the floor and get to my feet. “Make sure you do, because I want to be involved.”
Cody has the balls to roll his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.” He grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “Now, if we’re done bickering, I think it’s time to celebrate having the biggest pop label knocking at our door.”
Or go to sleep.
My leather boots thud against the gray rug as he leads me down the hallway. While we wait for the elevator, I try mighty hard to believe the words coming out of Rhonda and Cody’s mouths. Signing with a pop label means you’ve made it, right? And if my manager is gunning for it, the one person that I pay to keep my best interests at heart, then I shouldn’t worry.
And yet, as I listen to my boyfriend chatter on about the millions of dollars Sunny Records is dangling in front of me, I start to wonder: I always said I’d never do it for the money, but now that I have the fame, is that what’s left?
Chapter 2
Bryce
I’m reaching for the white carton of beef and broccoli when there’s a knock at my door. “It’s open,” I yell, drowning out the angry rumble coming from my stomach. I’m not normally this cavalier about letting people waltz into my apartment, but it’s no mystery who’s at my door. Autumn has a sixth sense when it comes to takeout.
The latch of my door clicks open followed by a series of muffled thumps and scratching. I start toward the hall with a sigh. “What’s the holdup, girl? You better hurry up, or I’ll eat all the—”
“Heel,” a sharp voice commands. “Dolly, I said heel.”
A blur of gray and white fur is my only warning. Then I’m staggering back with two giant paws planted on my shoulders while I get French kissed from the biggest Great Dane in the state of Tennessee.
I alternate between laughing and grimacing as Dolly makes quick work of every dry spot on my face, ears, and neck. “We’re still getting to know each other and you’re already copping a feel?”
Autumn bursts into my kitchen, rocks to a halt, and glares at the Dane. “Down. Down, Dolly Barkton!”
“Doesn’t seem to be working,” I mutter through squeezed lips. Autumn rushes toward us with a murderous look on her face. I’ve seen that look before, and believe me when I say I don’t wish that wrath on anyone.
In a firm voice, I command Dolly to sit. She does immediately, pulling back and easing down onto her haunches like she was born for it. Autumn gives her dog an open-mouthed stare before slowly turning to me. “How did you manage that?”
I reach out and pat Dolly on her big head. She melts under my touch, leaning into it with gusto while her tail goes wild. “We understand each other.”
Autumn snorts. “I understand her. I’m her momma.”
“Maybe she likes her uncle more?” I ask, leaving out the part that I sneak her leftovers every chance we’re together.
A slow smile spreads across Autumn’s lips. “You’re her uncle now?”
“The fun one that sneaks her leftovers.”
“Bryce! I swear—if you’re the reason behind those farts…”
I throw up my hands and back away. “That’s one hundred percent Dolly.”
Autumn wags her finger at me. “I’ll be watching you.” She glances at her pup. “Both of you.”
She follows me back toward the counter and grabs a seat at the island. Dolly trots over to my leather couch, sniffs, and steps onto it. I’d say she jumps, but Dolly’s roughly the height of a ten-year-old. I pull a mixing bowl out of the cabinet above the sink and put it under the faucet. The first time Dolly came over, I used a soup bowl. Dolly had lapped up the water in one gulp and sat back with a look of disdain. I’ve learned my lesson since then.
Autumn grabs the bag and peeks in, eyeing the cartons of Chinese food like a lioness eyes a gazelle. “How’d you know it was me, anyway?”
I set the bowl on the floor and shrug. “Who else would it be?”
“A robber?” Autumn offers, setting the takeout containers on the table one by one with glee.
“How many robbers knock before entering?”
“An ex-lover, then?”
I laugh. “You need to date to have an ex.”
“So still no one special…” She gives a pointed look around my sparse condo and rented furniture before refocusing on me. “Are you still renting?”
I turn and grab two plates from the cabinet. I know where this interrogation is heading. We have this fight every time we hang out these days. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes sense.”
Her brow furrows as I set the plates on the marble tabletop in front of her. “Why would renting make sense? You have money to buy, and the market’s good—”
“Beer?”
She blinks a few times and shakes her head. I head for the fridge.
“I think I’ll have one. Might as well live up my last night of freedom before your tour begins.”
“Bryce, I’m trying to say something.”
I grab a brown ale, turn, and let the door swing shut behind me. “What did I miss this weekend? Anything big?”
Autumn glowers at me for a moment before looking away. It’s been like this since I moved to Nashville three months ago. We were friends, but rough around the edges, and there were still a few subjects we danced around. What I’m doing when Autumn’s tour ends in October is one of them.
I know I’ve won back the conversation when she gives a tight little shrug. “Maybe, if you count being offered a multi-million dollar record label ‘big’.”
My hand pauses on the cap of my beer. “What?”
Autumn nods, a slow smile building on her lips despite being vexed with me. “Sunny Records. They want me.”
The beer goes clinking onto the counter as I sweep Autumn up into my arms. “Bry!” she shrieks as I twirl her around in the air. “Agh, I’m gonna puke!”
The grin she wears lights up her entire face. My breath catches as I stare down at her, her soft body pressed against my chest as I slowly bring us both to a stop. Our eyes lock when I set her back onto her toes, and the connection—a little too long and potent—sends a wave of heat through me.
Suddenly everything’s wrong. My skin is on fire, my thoughts jumble, my blood races through my veins.
I release Autumn like she’s hot to the touch, a small gasp escaping from her as I rip my arms from around her waist and step back. Touching Autumn is still like touching a live wire. There are only so many times I let myself get burned before I learned to stay away.
I grab my beer and step around the island, putting a healthy distance between us and then some. Sometimes I think I never should’ve answered that phone call—the one this past March where she asked me to be her security on tour. What if being near her again is torture? What if rekindling our friendship obliterates the walls I erected between us? But I’d had enough of the SEAL life when my contract ended in May, and I knew another six years wasn’t for me. Maybe I needed a change, I told myself, and maybe that change was in Nashville.
The summer hadn’t been that bad; we barely saw each other with me settling in and her on vacation. But that’s all about to change when the tour starts tomorrow, and I’ll find out, once and for all, if letting Autumn back in my life was the right choice.
Autumn wipes a lock of chocolate-colored hair from her cheek before easing herself back onto her stool. “So,” she says a few long moments later, “do you want to hear about the meeting or not?”
I take a big sip of said beer and motion her to go on. I don’t trust my voice right now to speak.
“It happened so quickly. They called to set up
a meeting days before my tour. Totally out of the blue. We walk in there—”
“We?”
“Cody and me.”
“I see.” I raise the beer to my lips and take anther sip, this one longer. Autumn had been single when she asked me to join her team, so imagine my shock when I arrived in Nashville a month later to find her glued to the side of a total douchebag.
She grabs the takeout carton and starts spooning food onto the plates. “He worked this all out. I wouldn’t be here today without him.”
“That’s not true. You were with Nashville Universal Records before Jensen came on the scene.”
Her hand stills over her fork. “Yeah, but he’s the one who got me this meeting.”
“You got you this meeting.”
The sharpness in my voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “Are you okay?” Autumn asks after a long look.
I give a tight shrug. “I don’t like how Jensen has you thinking you’d be nothing without him.”
“I don’t think that. I’m saying Sunny Records wouldn’t be offering me a pop album and a tour and millions of dollars if he didn’t pry open a few closed doors.”
My beer stops midway to my lips. “Pop album?”
Autumn’s teeth dart out across her bottom lip and tug. “Yeah, that’s the thing… Sunny is interested in selling me to the world, which means pop.” As the hard silence between us draws out, I get the feeling she’s not telling me something. “It took me by surprise, too, but they’re certain this is the right direction for my career.”
That line sounds like it’s right out of Jensen’s book. “And you?”
Autumn squirms under my piercing gaze. “What about me?”
My beer bottle barely makes a sound as I slowly place it on the table. I don’t know why I force myself to try to like the stuff. I only seem to fall for its siren call when I’m stressed. “Do you think signing with Sunny is the right direction for you?”
Autumn takes a long time to answer, but when she does, her voice has lost its trademark edginess that drives fans wild. “I think I’d be crazy not to give this opportunity a chance.”
Don’t get involved, man.