by Bella Andre
Inside the large room, there were another half-dozen men who all said hello to Drew, who then introduced her to them the way he had everyone else at the label. She'd put on her one dress, a simple white sundress, for today's meeting, and she could see how much she stuck out amongst the sea of dark suits. In fact, as far as she'd seen, apart from a few administrative staff, all of the employees at the label were male.
Which was funny, considering that well over fifty percent of the people listening to Drew's music were female. Shouldn't at least one person with an X chromosome be weighing in along with all the men?
"Your numbers are through the roof, Drew." The label's president got comfortable in his big leather chair as she and Drew sat on a big leather couch. "We've already talked with Peter to let him know how pleased we are."
Drew's manager, Peter Hemsworth, was president and founder of a high-profile music management company. He managed a dozen top artists and was based out of London, which was why he wasn't here with them today. Drew hadn't said much about Peter to her, just that he liked the guy and appreciated being left alone for the most part rather than micromanaged. Still, she wondered if Peter should at least be on the phone with them during this meeting. After all, Drew wasn't exactly a small-time client.
"We also let him know we're looking forward to finally hearing those new songs you've been promising us. And for you to get back to us with your thoughts on the contract that we sent over a while back for the second album."
"I got Peter's email this morning," Drew said. His words still sounded pretty relaxed, but Ashley had spent enough time with him to notice the way his expression tightened down a bit at the corners of his eyes and mouth.
"The market is primed for a new Drew Morrison album. Social media is going crazy for you. The girls can't get enough. You've done us proud, Drew. Real proud."
Was it weird, she wondered, to hear himself talked about like that? As Drew Morrison. But she already knew the answer--it had to be weird.
"Thanks," was all Drew said in response.
"So," Ansel said into the continued silence, "have you brought any songs in for us on a flash drive? Or maybe you'll feel more comfortable playing one of the guitars in my office?"
Instead of answering either Robert or Ansel, Drew looked at Ashley. She wished she knew what he needed from her, because she could see that he was struggling with something. She wanted to reach for his hand, but it seemed so terribly inappropriate inside the office. She gave him a small smile instead. One she hoped he could read as: Whatever you do, I'm totally behind you.
After another few seconds, he turned back to the men in suits. "I have one new song I could play for you."
"Great!" Robert clapped his hands as if he were a king on his music business throne about to hear from the jester brought in to entertain him. Ansel's guitar was soon in Drew's hands, and then he began the first few notes of "One More Time."
Ashley had cried buckets both nights he'd played it on stage, and it wouldn't matter that she was surrounded by the music industry executives that she'd always hoped to work with--she knew she wouldn't be able to keep from crying today either. At first Drew kept his gaze trained on the sound hole in his guitar as he played, but when she sniffled just a little too loudly, he looked up...and played the rest of the song looking straight at her. It felt like a concert for one. And it was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing that had ever happened to her.
She honestly forgot all about the other people in the room while he played, but once he got to the end of the song, that final line that absolutely destroyed her every single time--I wish I could see you one more time--she was shocked to realize that no one else in the room was crying. Okay, so a couple of the executives' eyes were glassy, but none of them had become a blubbering mess.
Ansel leaned forward. "That song--it's great, Drew. Real moving. But all those hits on your first album--those are what your fans are going to be expecting you to hit them with again. More fun, sexy songs." He held up his hands. "Don't get us wrong, we don't want to stifle your creativity."
She waited for Drew to say something, to defend his musical path, wherever it took him. Instead, he sat silently, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Suddenly, she realized that this was why he hadn't been excited about coming here today. He wasn't writing new songs at the pace Chief Records was expecting. And the one new song he had written, the label guys clearly didn't like.
But she did. She loved it. And so did his fans. She'd seen it for herself.
The problem was, any response Drew made at this point would only end up sounding defensive--and they'd clearly set up the power structure so that he would be on the wrong foot unless he did anything but kowtow to their demands. Oh sure, Ansel had smiled as he said it, but it was clear that they were still demanding a certain kind of song from Drew.
"Have any of you seen the way his fans react when he plays 'One More Time' live?"
Everyone in the room turned to her in surprise--as though they'd forgotten she was there. Or maybe they were still rolling their eyes at the way she'd sobbed while Drew played. Normally, she would have felt a little embarrassed to be the center of attention, especially when no one had actually asked her to speak up, but she couldn't stand to see them all pile on Drew like this. Even if they were couching the pile-up in compliments about how great he was.
"Drew's hits, they're all amazing, and you're right that people love to dance and sing to them. But they also love being touched by something that goes so deep. There's no one who doesn't understand how painful it is to lose someone you love. And, honestly, it's after they're wiping away their tears that his fans all really come together. It's after 'One More Time' that they vow to be his fans for life."
Everyone was looking at her as though she'd sprouted a second head--all but Drew, whose expression she couldn't read--and she knew she needed to try a different tack. Either that or just stop talking, but she figured it was too late now to backtrack. Besides, she didn't want to backtrack. She wanted to stand up for Drew's right to be whatever kind of artist he wanted to be!
"During the past two days, since Drew played 'One More Time' for the first time, it is the song everyone is talking about. Literally thousands of people have been posting about it. Clips of the song. Selfies of themselves crying as they listen to it. They're telling their own stories of loss and heartbreak. And they're whipping everyone who hasn't heard the song into a frenzy of anticipation, telling them that seeing Drew play it live will be one of the best experiences of their lives."
"Really?" Finally, Robert looked interested.
"Yes, really." At that point, she'd already stepped so far over the boundary that she didn't hesitate to offer, "I'd be happy to pull together a report on it for you if you'd like."
"Ashley, is it?" When she nodded, he said, "A report would be excellent. In fact, it makes me wonder why my own social media team isn't already doing something similar." He shot a none-too-pleased look at the men in the room.
"We've been busy working on other campaigns," one man said, before quickly adding, "but we will certainly look into this phenomenon Drew's girlfriend has reported seeing."
Her eyebrows went up at girlfriend, but she knew right now wasn't the time to correct anyone's assumptions. Not when what mattered most was that Drew should love the music he was making and not feel pressured to paint with primary colors.
"Ashley is right about my fans loving the song. And she's right about a hell of a lot more than that." Drew's voice was low. Firm. As if he dared anyone else from the label to so much as doubt another word out of her mouth. He looked at Robert and Ansel. "I'll look over the contract and let you know my thoughts." Drew stood, then reached out to help Ashley up. "Ready for a bunch more meetings?"
She still couldn't quite read his expression as she nodded. "Meetings are my wheelhouse."
That got a small quirk of the lips out of him, one that she hoped meant he wasn't upset with her for taking over the meeting. Because, truthfully, sh
e couldn't stand the thought of upsetting him.
Especially when all she wanted to do was help.
Chapter Nine
Oh man, was Drew not kidding about the meetings. Even Ashley was hitting the wall by the time they met with the Chief Records online team six hours later, despite the sandwiches and bowls of candy and sodas brought in to try to keep everyone from fading.
She was amazed that Drew didn't show one ounce of fatigue. On the contrary, after the difficult first meeting, he took the lead in each subsequent one. He clearly knew exactly what he wanted from each department--how the sales and marketing team should support each overseas market and what the newest online tools were that the social media team should be incorporating into their plans going forward.
She'd admitted to Drew last night that she'd come into the tour with preconceived notions of what a rock star was like. And if she hadn't already realized just how wrong she'd been, today's meetings would have done it. Because while it certainly helped that Drew had a large team and a powerful record label behind him, the truth was that he was leading the charge for his own career, rather than following what other people were telling him to do. Three days with Drew and she'd already learned more than she had from years of reading case studies about the music business.
It was yet one more thing that she hadn't truly understood from all the books she'd read about the music industry--how incredibly difficult it could be to try to strike a balance between art and commerce.
Just as difficult as the balance she was trying to figure out between her growing admiration for and attraction to Drew...and her pragmatic knowledge that, in the long run, the two of them were a terrible match. Because if the thought of sharing one kiss with him was already stretching the boundaries, then the idea of someone like her actually dating Drew Morrison was beyond laughable.
People who were as different as they were--the artist versus the pragmatist--were only ever destined to rub each other the wrong way. Sure, there had been attraction and passion between her parents. But that attraction and passion hadn't been nearly enough to sustain their love. In fact, if anything, those emotions had been their downfall. Because if there hadn't been that spark between them in the first place, her parents would never have leapt into such an unsuitable partnership. For fifteen years Charlie and Camila Emmit had lived a roller coaster of either fighting or freezing each other out. And it had been a horrible ride for all of them, Ashley included.
At long last, the final meeting ended, and they stood up to shake everyone's hands again and say good-bye. Ever since they'd stepped out of the president's office that morning, she had been hoping for five minutes alone with Drew so that they could talk about what she'd said in that meeting. Even sixty seconds would have been enough for her to ask him if he was upset with her for sticking her opinions into the mix.
So when the last Chief Records employee had stepped out of the room, she said, "Drew, I just want to make sure that what happened--"
Unfortunately, Ansel walked in and cut her off in midsentence. "I know we're running you ragged today, Drew, but we've got to get you into the studio down the street for several important interviews. Ashley," he said, turning to her, "Robert's assistant would like to get your contact information if you could head back upstairs. You impressed the boss today, something that I can tell you isn't easy to do."
Last week, impressing the president of Chief Records had been Ashley's number one goal. But now? All she wanted was to make sure that she and Drew were still okay.
"You should go ahead and chat with Jeannie." Drew smiled at her, but it didn't quite seem to reach his eyes. "I'll ask Max to come pick you up to take you back to the bus. I know this pace can be crazy if you're not used to it. You should get some rest."
"Okay." She'd been with him all day. Of course he'd want some breathing room. And if he thought she needed some rest, she must look really bad. Likely with big black circles under her eyes.
An incredibly beautiful woman walked into the room just then, and when she crooned Drew's name and wrapped her arms around him as if they were long-lost friends, Ashley quietly slipped out of the room. Maybe closing her eyes and blocking out the world for a few hours wasn't such a bad idea after all.
*
Ashley never usually napped, but then again, she wasn't exactly used to waking up at five a.m. every day after going to bed at midnight. After meeting with Robert's assistant, Max had taken her back to the bus, where she'd planned on closing her eyes for only a few seconds before fleshing out her notes from all the meetings today. But the next thing she knew, the clock on the microwave read nine o'clock. Which meant the local opening band was through with their set and Drew would be going on soon.
She sat up so fast that she hit her head on the wood slats of the empty bunk above hers. She was rubbing her head when she finally saw the note he'd left for her. Which meant he'd come onto the bus and seen her drooling facedown into her pillow.
Ashley,
If you want to check out tonight's show after you wake up, just text Max and he'll bring you backstage. It's a big crowd tonight and I'd feel better knowing you're close by.
Drew
It was so tempting to read more into his note than there really was, to tell herself that I'd feel better knowing you're close by meant more than simple concern for the safety of anyone on his crew attending a show in a 20,000-person venue.
But she wouldn't let herself do it. Nope, she thought as she scooted out of her bunk, from this moment forward she'd force herself to be all about business. She'd refocus on her plan to get into the Stanford graduate program and stop thinking about kissing Drew.
Of course, that didn't mean she shouldn't change out of her terribly wrinkled dress. And maybe put on a little mascara and lip gloss. After all, just in case anyone she'd met at the label was there tonight, she wanted to keep making a good impression. On them, not Drew. Especially since he was unlikely to get the image of her drooling and snoring out of his mind anytime soon...
Fifteen minutes later, feeling slightly more presentable, she texted Max to let him know she was ready to head over to the venue. Seconds later, he knocked on the door and gave her a big smile when she opened it for him.
"Have a good nap?"
"I can't normally sleep during the day, but I must have really needed that." As they headed through the venue's huge back lot and through a big steel door, she asked, "How do you all do it? The pace is so intense."
"For us guys on the crew, it's no big deal. We can rest when we need it. Drew's the one who's going pretty much twenty-four seven. I've talked to him about slowing down--we all have--but he says he likes to stay busy. Especially since..." Max shook his head. "Nothing's been the same since his mom got sick. That was one great lady. And an amazing mother. You never saw anyone prouder of her children." He paused, and with a frown he said, "Even before that, though, Drew was starting to look a little caged in, if you know what I mean. Speaking of cages, I heard you were fierce in the meetings with the label today."
"Fierce?" She was hardly able to believe that anyone would have used that word to describe her. "I just wanted the people from Chief Records to understand how powerful Drew's new song is and how much his fans love it."
"You're a good one, Miss Ashley. Sounds like he really needed someone in his corner today, even more than he usually does when he's dealing with those label guys. They put on a ton of pressure at the best of times, but at the worst of times?" He scowled. "That kind of pressure can break a man when he's already busting his ass on a tour that's lasted years by now." But then he brightened as he told her, "Drew also wanted you to know that they've separated out the meet-and-greet rooms for after the show, just like you suggested."
Even though she was pleased that they'd run with her idea, the lump in Ashley's throat grew even bigger. Clearly, Max thought Drew was running himself ragged in an effort to have no leftover energy to think about losing his mom. From what she'd seen so far on this tour--and from what
Drew had told her--she wondered if Max was right. And what about his belief that Drew was feeling caged in by his label and their expectations about writing more "fun and sexy" songs?
There were so many things she wanted to talk about with Drew. Not just about what had happened in the morning meeting, but also about why he hadn't been writing new songs, apart from "One More Time." In the interviews she'd read over the years, it had always sounded like songwriting was a totally natural part of his life, unlike some other artists who really struggled over creating new music. But was that not true for him anymore? And if so, had it started even before his mom got sick?
Just minutes ago, she'd sworn to be all about business from here on out. And yet, she knew better, didn't she? Because after everything they'd said to each other in the desert, and then in the bus later that night, Ashley felt she knew Drew better than any of those people at the label today. They liked him, of course, and admired him. Not to mention the way several of the women--and men--had been drooling over him. But he hadn't bared his soul to any of them...and they hadn't bared theirs right back.
Her heart was racing like crazy by the time she and Max made it to the side of the stage. She needed to see Drew again, needed just five seconds with him. The crowd was chanting Drew's name when she suddenly heard her own. She turned to see Ansel walking toward her and tried not to betray her disappointment.
"How were the interviews?" she asked him.
"Great. Drew had them all eating out of his hand."
Something about the way the A&R guy spoke about Drew grated. As if he thought Drew had simply been reading from a brilliant script they'd written together.
But then, a moment later, she felt fingers brush lightly over hers. This time, she didn't need to look to her side to know who it was. No one else's touch affected her like this.
Only Drew's.
Ansel was saying something to him about killing it tonight, but Drew was looking only at her while he stroked his thumb across her palm in a way that made her shiver despite the warmth of the crowded area where they were standing.