The Road to You

by Alecia Whitaker

  My phone beeps and when I see that it actually is Dan this time, I pull myself together.

  “Adam, I hate to do this and it really is awesome of you to call,” I say, “but Dan’s beeping in on the other line.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll let you go,” he says as if he doesn’t really want to. The concern in his voice makes it nearly impossible to keep my tears in check. “I’ll be in LA in a few days, but I just wanted to call now—say how proud I am. And how much you deserve it.”

  I sniff. “Thank you,” I say. The call waiting beeps again.

  “Call me back if you want to,” he suggests. “I’m around pretty much all day.”

  “Oh yeah, okay. Cool.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye, Adam.”

  “Bye, Lady Bird.”

  I can picture him, his slow smile, his shaggy hair…

  I shake my head, end the call, and take a deep breath. “Dan! Hi!” I say, my voice full of false pep.

  “This is Dan Silver, president of Open Highway records, the label built by incredibly talented and CMA-nominated artists like Bird Barrett,” he says as his way of greeting. “How may I help you?”

  I laugh despite myself, wiping my face with my sleeve. “Dan, you called me.”

  “Oh, Bird! Is that you?” he says, laughing. “I must have pocket dialed you.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  He chuckles and I can imagine him in Nashville, kicking back with his boots on his desk. “What a morning, huh, kiddo?”

  Tell me about it, I think.

  “I can’t believe it,” I say instead, focusing on the nominations. “I really can’t believe it.”

  “Oh believe it, baby,” he says. “We are so proud of you. I can’t say that I was surprised, but it’s still nice to hear it out loud.”

  “Yes,” I say firmly. “It is nice to hear it. It’s really nice to hear it.”

  This was just the phone call I needed. He sounds as excited as a little kid. “My in-box is already flooded. Open Highway really showed up this year—thanks very much to you. I’m ecstatic. Couldn’t be prouder.”

  “I haven’t checked all my messages, but I guess Anita’s happy,” I say.

  “Happy? She already sent out a press release!” He laughs. “I’m sure she’ll connect with you later.”

  “Did you see that Kayelee Ford was nominated in the same categories as me?”

  “I did see that,” he muses. “And you know what, speak of the devil, an e-mail came in from your old buddy Randall Strong right this very minute.”

  “Really?”

  Dan laughs again. “Oh, I love it.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “The subject is ‘Awards,’ ” he says. “And the e-mail is one line: ‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves a horse race.’ ”

  “Oh, great.”

  He laughs again, a big booming laugh so that I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “Oh, Bird. I’m not a betting man, but I’ve never felt better about my odds.”

  23

  “SO, YOU THINK I should let it go,” I say to Stella over FaceTime. We’ve hashed out the CMA day a billion times this week. I’ve called her immediately after every attempt at a make-up conversation with Kai. It’s been tense. Every time I try to explain to him why I’m hurt, I come off sounding needy, which makes me even more frustrated. But if I can’t even tell him how I feel, how is he supposed to get it?

  “Yeah, I do,” she says. “You’re crazy about Kai and he’s crazy about you, and this was understandably really hurtful, but I think he realizes he messed up. He was probably just trying not to be ‘that guy,’ you know? The type who brags about a famous girlfriend. Also, a lot of guys are intimidated by strong, successful women.”

  “Maybe,” I say, not totally convinced. I look at the vase of two dozen long-stemmed red roses from Kai on my dresser and can’t help but compare them to the poppies that Adam sent last week. The roses were a nice apologetic gesture, sure, but not original at all—and not really me. “I just feel like my music is me. It’s my heart that I put out there, my real experiences, and if Kai is ashamed of that, then he’s ashamed of me.”

  Stella nods sympathetically on the screen. “You’re right,” she says. “And you should tell him that.”

  “I mean, I kind of have, you know? Like, he knows I write my own songs—”

  “No, no, no,” she interrupts. “Boys are dumb and they need everything spelled out. Explicitly. Like you’re talking to a child.”

  I laugh.

  “I wish I were joking.”

  “Knock, knock,” Devyn sings from my bedroom door, looking as rocker chic as ever. I glance down at my yoga pants and oversized jersey-knit shirt and frown. “Are you ready for a day of pampering?” she asks.

  “Definitely,” I say. Devyn invited me to a day at the spa, and the timing couldn’t be better. Even the Money Boss—as I now not-so-affectionately call my dad—okayed it. “Hey, this is my best friend, Stella,” I say, eager to introduce my two closest friends. I aim the iPad toward Devyn. “Stella, Devyn. Devyn, Stella.”

  “Hi-yee!” Devyn says, wiggling her fingers. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Same here,” Stella says. “Nice to meet you.” I glance at the screen and frown. The average viewer would see a perfectly polite person, but I know Stella Crossley and that is her faking-it face. I hope she gives Devyn a chance. “Bird, call me later?”

  “Totally,” I say. “And thanks for listening… again.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” she says. “Dr. Stella Crossley: psychiatrist to the stars.”

  “And no doubt a hell of a lot cheaper than my shrink,” Devyn quips.

  Stella rolls her eyes and fake gags. Quickly, I turn the screen away, but Devyn is preoccupied with her phone anyway. “Bye, Stel.” I close my iPad cover and grab my purse. “Let’s do this,” I say to Devyn, and head for the living room. “If anyone’s earned a massage, it’s me. You aren’t going to believe the drama with Kai.”

  “OMG, I thought something was up,” she says. “Your eyes look terrible.”

  I hesitate, glancing at myself in the big mirror in the hall, but I don’t have much time to respond because I hear deep voices laughing in the kitchen, one in particular that makes the tiny hairs on my arm stand up.

  “And then he got on the skateboard anyway, just to impress the girl,” I hear Adam hoot.

  I round the corner, completely flummoxed that Adam is in my condo and nobody thought to tell me he was coming over. “Hi,” I say in the doorway.

  My mom is wiping tears out of her eyes, and my dad’s face is red from laughing so hard. Jacob’s is red, too, but not from laughing.

  “Hey, Lady Bird,” Adam says, his demeanor softening. His eyes are fixed on me as if I were the only person in the room. “It’s good to see you.”

  His focus is a little unsettling, and I feel the blush rise up in my cheeks right away. This is the first time I’ve seen Adam in person since our pseudo–movie date last winter, and I am definitely not prepared. He looks good. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter with that same ease he always has about him, as if he’s been here a thousand times before. He’s wearing a simple gray V-neck and he needs a shave and a haircut, as usual, but it all works for him. When he straightens up and takes a step toward me, his arms open for a hug, I awkwardly step forward.

  “Yeah, you too, Adam,” I say, putting my arms around him. He always smells like fresh laundry, and my heart skips a beat at the familiarity. I pull away quickly. “I didn’t know you were coming over,” I say, looking pointedly at my brother.

  “We just got here,” Jacob says, averting his gaze. He’s clearly uncomfortable, and I realize that Adam has told him at least something about what happened between us.

  “Hi, I’m Devyn Delaney,” Devyn says, pushing past me with her hand outstretched. She flashes Adam her million-dollar smile and then works the rest of the room, my brother drooling all over himself while Adam kee
ps his attention on me.

  “Sorry I didn’t get to call you back after the CMA announcements,” I say. “It was so crazy and—”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sure—”

  “The label was calling and Anita had… stuff,” I say lamely. I should’ve called him back. He gives me a lopsided grin and I involuntarily sigh, remembering how easy he is to be around. I snap out of it and busy myself with grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “So how was Austin?” I ask.

  “Good,” he says, leaning back against the counter again. He’s standing unnervingly close to me. “Really good. I got a lot of writing done, actually. The songs were pouring out of me. I’ve never been so inspired. And I met a guy who’s helping me make a demo, so things are really going well.”

  “That’s great,” I say, thinking about how unproductive my own summer was, writing-wise.

  “Not CMA great,” Adam says with a nudge.

  I look him in the eyes, remember how pretty his are, and blush. “Thank you.”

  “You and Kayelee both,” he says, shaking his head. “I may not have made a name for myself yet, but I’m starting to think I’m a good-luck charm for the girls I hang around.”

  “You still hang out with Kayelee?” I ask bluntly.

  He shrugs. “Eh, not really. You know how it is on the road. We text every now and then, but that’s about it,” he says. I frown. He and I text every now and then, too. “She asked me to tour with her—and the experience would’ve been great—but I really need to focus on my own stuff right now, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I say frankly. “I think you made the right choice.”

  “Me too,” he says, nodding. “It sure was hard to turn her down though.”

  “Hmph.” I snort. “I bet.”

  Devyn smirks at me.

  “What do you mean?” Adam asks.

  “Well, I think she’s pretty used to getting what she wants.”

  Adam crosses his arms. They are lean and strong, not like Kai’s, whose arms bulge with muscle, but like those of someone who grew up hauling hay and now hauls his guitar everywhere. He looks down as if considering his words. “She’s a little spoiled I guess. I’ll give you that. But it was really nice of her to offer me the spot.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “She’s talented,” he goes on. “She has a great voice.” He looks up at me. “You don’t like her stuff?”

  I shrug. “It’s all right, if you like that mainstream pop sound.”

  “Oh-kay,” Adam says, glancing over at my brother like I’m crazy.

  I sigh. “Look, she and I don’t really get along,” I explain. “Of course she’s nice to you. You’re a guy and you’re—cute or whatever. And maybe she does have a good voice.”

  “Maybe,” Devyn pipes up. “But you wouldn’t know with all the auto-tuning.”

  I laugh out loud, but Adam looks a little annoyed.

  “Her label is pressing her for a commercial sound, but I’ve heard her live and, believe me, she can sing,” he says.

  It completely astonishes me that Adam is defending Kayelee, so I put my hands up and step back. “Okay, okay, sorry,” I say. “Agree to disagree.”

  He doesn’t respond, and in the silence that follows, I become incredibly self-conscious. The people in this kitchen are supposed to be in my corner, but the laughter that filled the place moments ago has been sucked out of the room and now everybody just seems uncomfortable. I look over at my parents.

  “She practically threw herself at Kai,” I finally say, feeling like I have to explain. And as good as it is to see Adam, I also get a twinge of satisfaction at letting him know that I’ve moved on. “She’s the worst.”

  “She really is, like, always talking smack about Bird,” Devyn chimes in.

  “Thank you,” I say. At least one person has my back. “Trust me, Adam. You dodged a bullet.”

  “Yeah,” he says, as he scratches his scruffy jawline and nods slowly. “Maybe I did, Bird.”

  The weight behind his words stings.

  “Okay, so we’re going,” I announce, frustrated with everybody in my house. My house. “Good to see you again, Adam.”

  He takes a seat at the table with Jacob, his back to me as they help themselves to the snacks my mom has laid out. “You too, Bird,” he says, raising a hand in the air, but not looking back.

  I don’t even understand what just happened.

  “So that’s your ex?” Devyn asks once we’re in the hallway. I nod. “He’s super cute.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t believe he was sticking up for Kayelee.”

  “He just doesn’t know her,” Devyn says. “Girls like Kayelee Ford are always sweet to hot guys and mean to girls they’re threatened by. Don’t take it personally. He’ll see.”

  “Well, if anything, I feel like that just reaffirmed his decision to call things off,” I say at the elevator. “Not that it matters now that I’m with Kai.”

  I grab my phone from my purse and text Kai:

  Hey. I miss you.

  And I feel instantly lighter when he replies right away:

  So much it hurts.

  I smile and lower my sunglasses as we walk through the lobby and step out into the sunshine.

  24

  “YOU LOOK GREAT, Bird,” my dad says as he double-parks beside the line of town cars queued up for Hollywood Howls, an annual Halloween charity event supporting the Gentle Barn. “I’ll be back around eight, and if you want to stay longer, I’ll come inside and chaperone you girls.”

  I cringe. “Um, thanks, Dad. I’ll text you later.”

  I step out and walk to the curb, scanning the crowd for Devyn before my dad changes his mind and decides to come in. Devyn told me that the whole event will segue into a rager later tonight once the money’s been made for the Gentle Barn, but I’ll be long gone by then. Still, as photographers and entertainment reporters line the barricades, I gear up for another red carpet, excited to be attending a fancy LA event on my own, even if only for a few hours.

  I text Devyn that I’m here, and when I spot her getting out of a long black limousine up ahead, followed by Bria and Bridget, the statuesque twins I so often see photographed with her, I head her way. Devyn wanted us all to get ready together and was clearly annoyed on the phone when I told her I couldn’t get out of brunch at Bonnie McLain’s with my parents. She insisted we at least walk the step-and-repeat together, posing as a group for the paparazzi so our costumes make sense. We’re the four seasons: I’m fall, Devyn’s winter, and Bria and Bridget are spring and summer.

  “Devyn!” I call, hustling over to my group.

  She waves halfheartedly and adjusts her bikini top, which is covered in silver sequins. White organza flows from behind her neck, down over one cup, and over her toned stomach to blend with the shredded-organza skirt, gorgeous against her dark skin. She looks stunning, except for the obvious distaste on her face. I wonder what’s the matter.

  “You look so pretty,” I say as we exchange air kisses.

  “I can’t believe you have wings,” Devyn replies, her full lips turned down in a frosted-white pout. “I’m wearing wings. These are custom-made. And now I don’t stand out.” She sighs tremendously and looks away.

  Speechless, I turn to my summer and spring counterparts, introducing myself as if everything is okay, but to tell the truth, I’m a little taken aback by Devyn’s attitude. I am in love with my costume. I found a long, copper-toned, off-the-shoulder dress with a shimmery sheer overlay that looks really pretty with my skin and hair. My mom added leaf details and tiny pearls, and she made me a pair of almost transparent wings to give my autumn look an ethereal feel, but I never imagined they’d be an issue.

  “Okay, ladies, let’s turn it on,” Devyn says. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I just want to walk this carpet, get a ginger ale, and find a dark booth to crash in.”

  And without another word, she struts off as if she were about to walk the Victoria’s Secret runway show. I look
inquisitively at Bria, who is exquisite in a floral two-piece dress, her big blue eyes shadowed with pinks and greens. “Hangover,” she explains.

  “Devyn! Over here! You look amazing!” the photographers call.

  I follow the girls to the red carpet and watch Devyn dazzle. She is radiant, and as she flashes her perfect smile at the cameras, her hip cocked out at the most flattering angle, I wouldn’t have known in a million years that she’d partied too hard last night.

  “Bird! You look amazing! Bird, over here!”

  The photographers snap me from my trance, and I stop a few feet away from her, promptly posing in my beginner’s go-to, the ankle crossover. I smile demurely as the camera shutters audibly open and close. I’m still not a pro at this red carpet stuff, but one of the things Troy’s done in the last two months is set me up with an acting slash modeling coach, and after all the publicity Anita’s had me doing since the CMA nominations, I’m getting used to it. I always thought modeling looked easy, but in actuality, it’s anything but.

  “Bria! Bridget! Gorgeous!” the photographers call out as the twins pose in sync on my other side. Effortlessly, they loop limbs around each other, angle their shoulders, and point their toes in a way that makes their legs seem to lengthen right before my eyes. They are both rail thin and taller even than me in their Louboutins.

  I continue down the red carpet, taking big strides between poses, ready to get inside. I’m almost there.

  “Bird, we need to pose together,” Devyn suddenly squeals, sliding up to me and putting her arm around my waist. She beams at the cameras and with near ventriloquist perfection, she says through her teeth, “I’m sorry about the wings comment before. What do wings have to do with winter? Or fall? It was stupid. I just have a headache and you look gorg. Forgive me?”

  Instantly, I relax. “Forgiven,” I say, relieved.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she breathes, flashing me an indebted smile. She glances over at Bria and Bridget and then links her arm through mine. She lowers her voice even more, and I have to stoop a bit to hear her. “I was, like, best friends with the twins in high school, but we’ve really grown apart since then.”