The Road to You

by Alecia Whitaker

  “It’s okay,” I say quietly.

  He sighs.

  He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I resist a little as he brings me in next to him. When he leans back against the cushions, I tuck my head and lie on his chest, feeling exposed, and honestly, a little hurt.

  “Nobody’s ever written a song for me before,” he says softly. I listen to the sound of his heart beating as he runs his fingers through my hair. “Thank you, Bird.”

  I gulp hard. He puts a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. He searches my eyes with his own and then brings my lips to his, kissing me slowly like I’m something to be savored. I have so many emotions at war in my heart—Kai is back and so everything should be better, everything should be right, and it’s not, it’s just not—but as his lips gently dance over mine, I give in and let go of the negativity. What we have when we hold each other is worth holding on to.

  27

  “AND THE CMA for the Single of the Year goes to…”

  Hunter Hayes takes his sweet time opening the envelope, and I’m squeezing my dad’s hand so tightly that it very well may fall off. There is a cameraman kneeling in the aisle next to me, ready to catch my reaction, win or lose. Anita scheduled a special PR meeting about the CMAs with me, my dad, Troy, and my styling team yesterday, and although it seemed silly at the time, she had me role-play this very situation. Now that I’m here in the Bridgestone Arena, surrounded by country music legends and stars whose music I really admire, with a camera in my face that basically represents all of America, I thank God once again for Anita Handler and her control-freak tendencies.

  “Kayelee Ford, for ‘Be Like Me,’ ” Hunter says.

  My heart drops, but my smile doesn’t. Just as I was taught by both my parents and my publicist, I play the part of a good loser, applauding along with the rest of the audience. I beam across the aisle at Kayelee, who is bending over in her short, red, skintight sequined dress, kissing everybody around her and dramatically shaking with her hand over her big mouth. Give me a break.

  When she finally quits with the theatrics, she takes a step toward the stage and glances over at me. She shoots me a patronizing look, her fire-engine-red lips in a quick pout, and then sashays up to the stage sunny as a Miss America contestant. She thanks her label, “especially Randall Strong, the best in the biz,” and I try not to read too much into it; but when I make the mistake of glancing across the aisle again, Randall winks at me, making my skin crawl.

  Kayelee talks so long that the music starts to play, and I imagine Hunter Hayes grabbing a long cane and pulling her offstage. The thought makes me giggle. Then I feel my phone vibrate through my clutch, so I fish it out and see a text from Devyn:

  WTF? You totes deserved to win. And what is she wearing?

  I laugh, then drop my phone and applaud as Kayelee finally finishes.

  “You’ve still got New Artist,” my dad says next to me.

  I smile at him, thinking he was the perfect date for the awards show after all. He was the first person on his feet after I performed at the beginning of the show, his enthusiastic cheering both sweet and a little embarrassing. And unlike the last time we walked a red carpet together, he wasn’t multitasking, instead letting Troy and Anita do their jobs. Plus, my dad loves country music, so we’ve sung along to all the performances… well, all but one. We coincidentally both went to the bathroom during the newly named Single of the Year.

  The awards show progresses, and I try to enjoy myself as best I can, especially since Carrie Underwood and Brad Paisley are funny hosts, but I’m fidgety and nervous. Open Highway artists were also in the running for Musician of the Year and Song of the Year, losing both. As the program gets closer to the New Artist category, I start to feel hopeful glances from Dan and Anita, and the pressure of helping to grow a small label mounts. I am freezing cold, but my palms are sweating as last year’s New Artist takes the stage. If I win, I’ll be handing out the award next year. I am covered in goose bumps.

  “This award changed my life,” Olivia Brooke says into the mic, as cherub-faced and wide-eyed as ever. I’d say winning The Voice did a number on her average day as well. “To be named New Artist of the Year is a great big welcome into the world of country music, but no matter who wins tonight, all five nominees deserve a hand.”

  Olivia steps back from the mic, allowing the audience to applaud, but it only makes me feel more restless. Finally, she steps forward again and smiles into the camera as she reads from the teleprompter. I grip my dad’s hand. “The nominees for New Artist of the Year are: Brayden Paul, Bobbie Jo Weston, Kayelee Ford, Quinn Moore, and Bird Barrett.”

  When I hear my name, my heart stops, my palms sweat. I feel like everybody in my row is holding their breath.

  “And the CMA award for New Artist of the Year goes to…” Olivia fumbles with the envelope, dragging out what is already the most excruciating moment of my entire life. “Shouldn’t have gone with these fake nails,” she jokes into the mic.

  Yeah, yeah, ha-ha. What’s the envelope say?

  “Bird Barrett!”

  I scream. I know that wasn’t what we rehearsed, but I scream. I stand up and turn to my dad, hugging him tightly and not even trying to fight the tears. Dan gives me a hug next, woo-hooing like he’s the one whose name was called, and Anita gives me a thumbs-up… and a pink hankie that just happens to match my dress. I beam at her, fist bump Troy, and then hug my dad again. I couldn’t be happier.

  “Go get it!” Dad says, snapping me out of my enraptured haze.

  I turn around and step into the aisle, nearly running into the cameraman. “Sorry,” I say, giggling like a kid. I dab under my eyes with the hankie, delicately, the way Sam showed me so as not to ruin his dramatic eye masterpiece. At the stairs to the stage, Tim McGraw actually reaches out to give me a hand up, and it all feels even more dreamlike.

  “Thank you,” I say as Olivia Brooke hands me the award. Then I turn to the crowd and shout into the mic, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  And then I scream again.

  Words start tumbling out of my mouth, none of it coherent, I’m sure. “Oh my gosh, this thing is so heavy! I love it. Oh man, I just—yeah, wow—you know? I’m—ah! I’m so happy!” I shake my head and take a deep breath. I need to thank people. “I just have to thank Dan Silver and all the people at Open Highway Records for believing in me and giving me this chance to be New Artist of the Year. Thank you, Anita Handler, Troy Becker, and Judd Barrett for taking good care of me. Oh my goodness, I’m going to forget everybody. I couldn’t have written this record without the support of the superbly talented Shannon Crossley.” I think about my inspiration for Wildflower and add, “Also, Adam Dean.” I pause and see Jolene Taylor in the front row, texting and looking magnificently bored. I beam down at her. “Oh! And thank you to my new friend, Jolene Taylor, for taking me on tour and teaching me so much.” A cameraman immediately swings around for her reaction, and the kiss she throws me makes me laugh heartily into the microphone. “Oh, what a night!” The music starts to play softly, an indication that my time is up, so I rush to finish. “Thank you to the fans who filled up stadiums all over the country this summer! Thank you, Kai and Stella and Jacob and Dylan and sweet Caleb.” I throw a quick kiss up to the ceiling. “I love you all! Thank you to my mom and dad, the best parents in the world. I love you so much!” The music swells as I take the award in both hands and hold it out to the crowd. “Thank you, everybody! You’ve made my year! Woo-hoo!”

  I step back and wave, feeling like my lungs are full of helium and that I would float away if the award weren’t weighing me down. I’m country music’s New Artist of the Year!

  The press waits for me backstage, and I don’t even have a chance to catch my breath. Immediately, a microphone is in my face.

  “Bird, how does it feel to win this award?”

  “Oh, um, it feels—I’m still in shock, you know?” I say. “It feels amazing.”

  “Were you surprise
d?”

  “Yeah, actually. I didn’t realize it was so heavy.”

  “No, were you surprised to win it?”

  “Oh,” I say, laughing. I can hardly focus as the adrenaline courses through my veins. “Yes, of course. The other artists that were nominated are exceptionally talented. I mean, to even be invited to perform on this stage tonight was a dream come true. But this? Taking this home?” I hug the award tight to my chest. “I can’t even comprehend.”

  “So it looks like you and Kayelee are all even this go ’round,” the reporter says. “She won Single of the Year and you won New Artist. Anything you want to say about your much-talked-about rivalry?”

  “O-M-Please,” I say, rolling my eyes and borrowing a phrase from Devyn. “I don’t even see her as a competitor.” Karrie Kinney is walking by, and she interrupts us for a quick hug. Karrie-freaking-Kinney! Hugging me! When I turn back to the reporter, I am ready to get this interview over with. “Look, Kayelee and I have totally different styles. If fans want authenticity, that’s what they’ll get from me—real music. I happen to think it’s a waste of time to compare us, or to try to be like anyone else,” I say, referring to the silly rivalry as well as her awful song. The reporter starts to ask a follow-up question, but someone is moving me toward the pressroom and I go with it.

  During a break in the show, I am escorted back to my seat. I can’t help but feel the win is even sweeter knowing how badly Randall Strong was hoping to snuff me out, so I flash him and his posse a brilliant smile as I pass their seats. I am surprised to see Karrie Kinney talking to Kayelee Ford like they’re besties and then not so surprised when my supposed rival shoots me a death stare.

  I feel my smile falter.

  “Bird, let me get a look at that thing,” my dad says excitedly. He hugs me again and reaches for my CMA. “Wow, it’s heavier than I thought.”

  I glance over at Kayelee. Thank God looks can’t kill. When I turn back toward my team, Dan, Troy, and Anita are all standing in the aisle, huddled close and visibly unhappy.

  “Was that really necessary?” my new manager asks.

  I squirm, feeling like this may not be the best way to start our working relationship. “What do you mean?”

  Anita holds up her phone and reads quietly, “Karrie Kinney just tweeted this: ‘Hashtag BirdKayeleeRivalry is real, y’all. Saw it firsthand. CMAs getting ugly. Glad I’m drama free. Hashtag phew.’ ” Anita rolls her eyes and mumbles to herself, “Drama-free, my ass. And she clearly has no idea how to use a hashtag.”

  Dan glances over at the GAM area and pulls me close. “Bird, what did you say backstage?” he asks. The look on his face makes me want to crawl under a rock.

  “Nothing, really!” I say. “I did a quick interview. Karrie maybe overheard part of it.”

  “What did you say exactly?” Anita demands. “How much damage control is necessary?”

  “No, just—” I gulp. This is spinning out of control. “Just that I write my own songs and my music is authentic. And something about how fans shouldn’t try to ‘be like’ anybody else, but are great just how they are.”

  Dan purses his lips. “Bird, not only do you look like a bad winner now, but you’ve also fanned the flames.” The warning music starts to play, cueing everyone, stars and seat fillers, to move back into their rows.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, clutching my award like it could save me. As my team files into our row, I wait in the aisle, anxious. “I’m so embarrassed,” I tell my dad as I finally sit.

  “Don’t be,” Anita commands from his other side. “The cameras are about to start rolling again, and we’ve still got a lot of awards show to watch. The way ‘BirdKayeleeRivalry’ is trending online right now, you need to sit up straight and be a model of grace.” She is clearly disappointed in me, which somehow stings as badly as if she were my mother. “It was catty, Bird, and not what we talked about, but be embarrassed later. Right now, remember your aura. ‘Friendly,’ right?” she asks, using air quotes.

  Then she sits back primly and starts to clap with the crowd as Lady Antebellum takes the stage. I feel light-headed. My phone buzzes in my purse and I open it, checking my messages as discreetly as possible so as not to draw more ire from Anita or Troy.

  I scroll through the texts, feeling better as I read all of the congratulatory messages from my friends and family. Stella loves me, Kai is happy for me, my brothers are stoked, my mom couldn’t be prouder, Adam says congrats (although he probably sent the same text to Kayelee), and Devyn says I look prettier than KF, which makes me feel really good, actually. Then I am surprised to get a text from Anita:

  Enjoy your night. You deserve this win. Sorry I was harsh. You made us proud.

  And then, in true Anita fashion, she sends a follow-up text:

  #rivalriessellrecords

  I lean forward and catch her eye. She cocks an eyebrow and smiles, making me feel a million times better. I’ll deal with the aftermath tomorrow. For tonight, I’ll just steer clear of Kayelee and hold tight to my shiny new trophy.

  28

  “FIRST THE CMAs, and now the Grammys,” Dan says jovially when I walk into the Music Row offices of Open Highway. Christmas music plays over the speakers and I think how cool it’d be to do a holiday album one day. “How does it feel?”

  “Surreal,” I say truthfully. It’s been a month since the CMAs, the excitement of which hadn’t worn off before I got a Grammy nomination for Best New Artist. “Sometimes I feel like my life is one big hallucination,” I say with a grin.

  Dan chuckles. “I knew you were something special.” He walks around his desk and gives me a hug, then holds me away from him, grinning like a proud papa. “California looks good on you, Bird,” he says.

  “Do these bags under my eyes look good, too?” I ask.

  He laughs as he makes his way back to his chair. “The red-eye is rough.”

  “Brutal. It feels like all I do is fly back and forth these days.”

  “I know Anita and Troy have had you doing a lot of press, but that’s awards season. We’re building momentum and have to keep you front and center.”

  “Hey, I get it,” I say, taking a seat across from him. “I still can’t believe I got nominated.”

  The truth is that when I heard about the nomination, my first reaction was wanting to text Kai, See? My music is legit. But that felt dumb, especially since Kayelee Ford was nominated in the same category and her music is anything but. Now the press is all about how odd it is for two country artists to be nominated in the same category for a Grammy, especially females, but I’d say most people lump Kayelee in with pop.

  “Well, congrats again,” Dan says. “We’re very proud of you.”

  “Seriously, I still can’t believe this is my life,” I say.

  “You better believe it, Miss Barrett,” he says, grinning. “And you better be ready to win a lot more of those trophies. I have big hopes for your next album.”

  I tense up. I’ve been on pins and needles all night, listening to the demo tracks on the flight and trying to hear them the way he would. “Have you heard the new stuff?”

  “Yes. I have,” Dan says, breaking eye contact as he looks down at a memo on his desk. “And we need to talk about it.”

  Uh-oh.

  “The A and R guys you’ve been working with out at Open Highway LA really have their finger on the pulse of current music trends, and we feel this follow-up album needs to go in a bit of a different direction.”

  He pauses for my reaction, but I can only blink, waiting for more.

  “Wildflower was a beautiful introduction,” he explains. “It was, ‘Hello, world. I’m Bird Barrett.’ And for that matter, it was ‘Hello, world. We’re Open Highway Records.’ But for this next one, we want a slightly more inclusive sound. We talked about a pop influence. Now, I don’t mean anything like Kayelee Ford, although her new single is at the top of the charts—” he adds grudgingly.

  “Right, but I’d argue ‘Hashtag on My Heart’ is
n’t even really country,” I interject hotly. It makes me so furious that a stupid song like that is number one on the Billboard. “I mean, my singles have been out for a while, so they were clearly going to fall eventually, but for a song like that to skyrocket?” I sit back in my chair and cross my arms. “It makes me worried about the future of music in general.”

  Dan chuckles. I know I sound like Kai, but seriously.

  “You make a good point, Bird,” Dan says, nodding. “And listen, I’m not saying you should try to adopt her sound—” he says.

  Thank God.

  “But I am saying that I only hear potential in these demos. I don’t hear singles, Bird. Not yet. They’re not there and they’re not in line with where we want this one to go.”

  I clench my jaw and look over at the fireplace. I’m so frustrated, not at Dan really, but at the whole process. At myself for knowing in my heart that these songs weren’t going to cut it, and at the label for comparing me to other artists, especially one like Kayelee, who has about as much depth as a kiddie pool.

  “We’d love it if you could infuse some of that West Coast experience into your songs,” he continues. “Like this one, ‘Worth Being in Love.’ It feels like it’s right on the brink. The idea is there and I even like the phrasing, but it’s so slow, almost… indulgent.” He is trying to be gentle, but he might as well take a big red stamp and put This Sucks on that stupid memo he’s holding. “And then I like the concept of ‘Shine Your Light,’ but it feels overworked to me. I think it could be a hit as more of a power anthem. Give it some life. I guess I’m just looking for the fun in these demos, Bird.”

  I feel a lump form in my throat. I do not want to cry.

  “Can you up the tempo? Play around with the lyrics?”

  I nod curtly. I know Dan has my back and I know he only wants me to do well, but this criticism is hard to hear. The first album felt so easy compared to this one; there was nothing to liken it to, and I wrote a lot of the songs never dreaming that anyone else would hear them. But the second album has been like banging my head against a wall. I don’t want to let down my family, my label, my fans, but that’s exactly what’s happening.