Chapter 20
LIV AND I MADE QUICK PROGRESS through the questions I’d prepared for our call.
We fleshed out a bit more about her upbringing, examined how she’d discovered her passion for music, and talked through where she saw herself going from here.
I had ignored my temptations to sprinkle in deeper questions, as per Alexandria’s instructions.
As we wrapped up the book discussion, she sat back in a chestnut leather sitting chair, city lights streaming in through the windows behind her.
The same interlude that had occurred last time presented itself yet again.
She didn’t seem to be hurrying off. Hadn’t mentioned a studio session she had to run to.
Did she want to stay on to talk more like last time?
I decided to initiate some friendly chatter.
“So now that we’ve got the book talk out of the way, how are you, Liv? Are you calling from your suite in London?” I asked, motioning to the beautiful scene behind her, complete with paintings, antique sconces, and curtains that looked like they weighed a hundred pounds each.
“Ding, ding.” Liv chuckled. “I’m okay. It was a long day.
Lots of brainstorming and working out themes for my next album.
They’re wanting me to go in a more synth-pop direction, which I guess sounds interesting.
” Liv had a talent for speaking about very unrelatable things as if they were perfectly relatable.
Her tone of voice suggested what she might pick up for dinner tonight as opposed to what her highly anticipated third album might sound like.
“That could be fun.”
“Yeah,” she said, but I was unconvinced that she agreed. I decided to follow up.
“Is that the direction you want to take it in?”
Liv pondered my question, her eyes shifting away in thought. She took her time considering how to answer before finally saying, “Not really. I don’t know. To be honest, I’ve been thinking less about the album lately and more about taking a break.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is the last work trip I have scheduled for a bit.” Liv paused, again searching for her next words.
“And lately I’ve just been wanting to hide for a while, take a break from pumping out new albums and doing commercials and photo shoots and appearances.
I was talking about it with my therapist. And she’s been encouraging me to just do it. ”
“You have been working really hard. Have you talked to your boyfriend about this?” Every photo of Liv and her actor boyfriend that the tabloids ran made it look like a real-life romance rather than a concocted one—which led me to believe there must be something genuine about it.
“Oh, no, that’s all pretend.” Liv shook her head.
“We’re not even really dating. Tom’s nice and all, but we already know we’re going to ‘break up.’ And don’t get me wrong, I’m still really excited about this book.
I’ll do everything I can to make it the best it can be.
But I realized I’ve seen the inside of a plane more often than I’ve seen my apartment lately.
And, I don’t know, that made me kind of rethink things. ”
“How do you mean?” I probed.
“It was fun for a while, getting invited to parties in the Hollywood Hills, meeting the people I grew up listening to, having everything I thought I wanted handed to me, but . . . I just . . . I used to think that being a ‘star’ would do it. Would make me happy forever. But then it happened. And I realized it doesn’t.
” Liv let out a loaded sigh. She seemed to be off in her own world.
I studied her face. Beautiful but discontent.
“So money doesn’t buy happiness, then?” I asked, semihumorously but with a hint of seriousness.
Liv chuckled. “Not really. I mean, I know that phrase is overused. But it’s true. It sounds cheesy, but I’ve been thinking a lot about what it would be like to live a simpler life.” Her eyes carried longing. It was clear she had been doing her fair share of soul-searching as of late.
What would the world think of this side of Liv?
“It’s like,” she continued, “sometimes I think back on my life before. When I was doing tiny open mics in front of twenty people, writing songs all by myself about whatever I wanted to, playing gigs with friends.”
“What do you think about those times?”
“It’s almost like I felt happier? I know that doesn’t really make sense. I wasn’t making money from my music or playing stadiums. But weirdly, I think the ‘normalness’ of my life back then was more fulfilling.”
Liv had achieved her dreams on an impressive scale—far more than the vast majority could ever hope to.
She’d “made it” by all accounts. And yet she was craving something different—not something even more extraordinary, but instead, something ordinary.
What the rest of the world perceived as the kind of life only a lucky few get to live, she had experienced firsthand and found to be lacking.
As I allowed the idea to percolate in my mind, a question appeared: Was I making the same error?
Had my dream of writing a beautiful story become overshadowed by my desire to see #1 New York Times bestseller splashed across its cover?
Would that fulfill me? What I’d recognized more and more was that moving to New York hadn’t given me the answers I was desperately searching for.
Chasing after my career hadn’t made me feel as significant as I’d anticipated.
Befriending the popular girls hadn’t morphed me into one of them.
Dating the cool guys hadn’t changed the way I felt inside.
My novel popped into mind. How did my story about a young woman who escapes her small, inconsequential life in a small, inconsequential town to make something of herself fit into what Liv was sharing with me?
Liv’s voice summoned me out of my thoughts.
“Who knows, maybe I’ll meet a cute small-town guy like you did.” Her smile lit up my screen. I couldn’t help but join in. “Has anything happened with him since we last talked?” Her eyebrows danced as she questioned me. Suddenly, she was a normal girl talking about boys.
“Well, it’s funny you should ask . . .”
“Did he ask you out? Did you ask him out?!” she squealed.
“He did,” I reported, a streak of triumph in my voice. Liv gave a whoop, and I burst out laughing.
“Tell me everything!” she demanded.
Giddiness bubbled up in my chest as I recounted the events of the other night. Liv was hooked on my every word, interjecting with questions and observations and exclamations. As we wrapped things up, she requested a detailed update on our next call. I promised to deliver.
Just before we signed off, I made a split-second decision. “Actually, do you have just a couple more minutes? I wanted to ask you something about your book.”
Liv nodded. “Yeah, of course!”
“What would you think if we tried to explore some of the things we’ve been talking about?”
She tipped her head. “What do you mean?”
“I was just thinking—and we could keep it as vague as you’d like—but what if we touched on how our perception of someone’s life doesn’t always match up with what it’s like on the inside?
Or what truly brings fulfillment? Or what it looks like to have it all?
” I wasn’t supposed to stray from the tone Alexandria had requested.
And I hadn’t ever before. But this time felt different. My gut was telling me to at least try.
Liv shifted her gaze off into the distance and hmmed.
“It’s just an idea. We don’t have to—”
“No, no,” she said. “I like it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “I really do. I mean, I’d want to be careful about how much I’m sharing . . .”
“Of course. Yes.”
“But . . . yeah. I think we should.” She paused. “You know, the songs of mine I’ve loved the most are the ones where I tried to go a little deeper. I’m really happy you brought that up, Jane.”
We settled a few more thoughts about our new course and hung up soon after. As soon as I’d shut my computer, my phone rang.
“Hey, Alexandria.”
“Jane. How are things going with Liv?” A symphony of car horns and indecipherable shouts sounded in the background. I settled back in my armchair, safe in the calm and quiet.
“Good, I actually just finished up a call with her.”
“And she’s giving you good stuff? Material you can work with?” she asked, the clack of her heels on the sidewalk acting as a metronome.
“She is. I’ve got the first four chapters mostly worked out, more coming soon.”
“Good. We’ll need to move quickly on this one, but you know that.” The turnaround for Liv’s book was quicker than usual. Her star was rising, and Carmichael would do everything within their power to capitalize on that.
“Yes, definitely.” I paused. “Actually, I wanted to ask your opinion on something.” I’d need Alexandria’s okay before doing anything Liv and I had just discussed.
“Shoot,” she said.
“Liv and I got to talking after we went through the questions.” I stopped to catch my breath. Even after years, I was still intimidated by Alexandria.
“Okay . . . ?” Her patience was waning. I needed to come right out and say it.
“We were thinking about adding some new themes to the book.”
“Like?” Her voice sliced through the phone.
“Just to go a little deeper with her. She has more to say than we—”
“Yeah, look, Jane. You’re a great worker, and I appreciate you trying to make the book the best it can be, but we’re really looking to keep it light. You know? Fun. Sweet.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“She’s a pop star. People don’t expect anything else. Does that make sense?”
Her words stung. Liv was more than that. I quelled the defensiveness cropping up in my chest. “Right. Yeah, it does.”
“Plus,” she said, “the simpler you keep it, the easier it’ll be for you to write it.”
“Well, either way, I think we might have a bestseller on our hands.” This would be the case no matter what was in the book, deep or not.
Liv’s name would be more than enough to bolster sales.
But I hoped my comment would call Alexandria’s attention back to my skill as a writer, not just as a worker, and perhaps the manuscript I’d asked her more than once to read.
“East Seventy-Ninth and Park,” she ordered the taxi driver before getting back to me: “Good. That’s good. Oh, and before you ask—yes, I’m going to send your manuscript to Jim and see what he thinks about it.” My heart leaped.
Jim Doughtery, the head of the pub board at Carmichael (senior both in position and in age), held all the power when it came to which projects would get published. Every single book that Carmichael churned out only ever made its way to bookshelves after being greenlit by him.
“Thank you so much, Alexandria,” I breathed.
“Sure. But, uh, Jane . . .” Her tone shifted.
“Yes?”
“Listen, I’m doing this as a favor. You’ve worked with Carmichael for a long time, and we do value you. You’ve done good work for us. So I want to help you out, but I can’t promise anything.”
Just as quickly as my heart had leaped, it settled. “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Yes. Of course.”
“I just need you to manage your expectations,” she said, her voice frank.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Oh—hey, I’ve got another call coming in. Talk soon.” Without waiting another moment, she ended the call. Her words of caution might have dampened my spirit for a minute, but it wasn’t long before the but what if? thoughts began to seep in.
My coming-of-age novel, so precious to me, would be landing in Jim’s inbox any day—any moment—now.
The possibilities flashed through my mind like a rapid-fire slideshow presentation: him telling the rest of the board members, “This novel is going to win every award”; me at a book signing with a line that wrapped around the block; me receiving an influx of letters from readers expressing how much my novel had touched them; the name Jane Caldwell becoming synonymous with “one of the greatest new writers of our time”; movie studios fighting over the rights to my book. I could see it all so vividly.
Liv’s earlier admission pricked my mind. I used to think that being a star would make me happy.
“Jane, dinner!” Mom’s voice rang out from the kitchen, pulling me out of my ponderings.
“Coming!”
The rest of the night transpired as expected.
Dinner with my parents was pleasant—nice, even.
We watched an extra episode of To Serve and Protect, and while I’d been dubious of it at the start, I found myself remembering the characters’ names and looking forward to what would happen in the next episode.
My cozy, familiar bed welcomed me at the end of the night.
My phone dinged. A text from Noah. Could he feel me thinking about him?
Hey :) I’m looking forward to tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at six?
I reread the text a few times, letting it sink in that my date with Noah Elliot was actually happening. After waiting the obligatory five minutes, I replied.
Sounds good to me :) I’ll see you then. I smiled to myself. Sleep soon descended upon me.