Chapter 8
ROSALIE
Rosalie was midway through telling Tommy Dawson how to feng-shui his new city apartment.
Tommy had been on and off the scene in the past, having had numerous flings with Andrea.
She had first met Tommy shortly before he and his band were plucked from Andrea at Sanfia Records by XM Music Group.
Funny, because she always thought when Andrea and Tommy were working together they were perfect for each other, but it had never come to anything serious.
Tommy had bought a flashy penthouse apartment in a sought-after building in the city, and it was the kind of project even Rosalie would end her sabbatical for.
Their conversation was cut short when Sofia, looking uncommonly flushed and bothered, appeared nearby with Seth, Frankie, Billy and a young woman Rosalie didn’t recognise but who looked to Rosalie distinctly like a music artist – call it intuition or call it long feather earrings, a hippie-style dress and purple streaks in her hair.
‘Sofia, over here!’ Rosalie called, pulling her into a hug. ‘This jumpsuit looks incredible on you, and I love the slicked hair.’
Sofia looked down at herself. ‘The what? Oh, thanks. You look as great as ever.’
Rosalie held up a hand in greeting to the others then quietly asked Sofia, ‘Are you okay? You seem flustered.’
‘I’m fine.’ Then she shook her head. ‘Just a bit of a delay getting out of the house, that’s all.’
Rosalie felt her brows furrow as she looked around the space nearby. ‘Isn’t Jay with you?’
She noticed Sofia swallow deeply before she confessed. ‘That was sort of the delay. He had a big night last night and…’ Sofia clearly feigned a smile. ‘Nothing he can’t sleep off. Hey, I haven’t introduced you to Dani.’
Sofia ushered the purple-haired musician forward and said, ‘Dani, this is my friend, Rosalie.’ Then she told Rosalie, ‘Dani is recording her first EP at Sanfia. She’s going to be a hit.’
Rosalie enquired about Dani’s music but as she listened to the young woman’s passion for country music, her attention was drawn to Seth, not shaggy and unkempt tonight but looking…
well. Very well. His scuffed suede boots had been swapped out for polished leather.
His dirty ripped jeans had been replaced by butt-hugging indigo dress jeans, and where he had worn a white T-shirt and a flannel shirt, he was wearing a black fitted T-shirt and a suave jacket.
If it weren’t for his seemingly signature dog tags and fiercely blue eyes, he would be barely recognisable.
Their eyes locked momentarily before Seth was yanked forward into a rough embrace with none other than man-of-the-hour, frontman of Armstrung , a Billboard-topping rock band, whose name was Randy Jonson – possibly the crudest stage name in the business.
Seth impressed her. Despite being in the presence of real fame and riches, Seth seemed to be taking everything in his stride, shaking hands with the other members of Armstrung, laughing and joking. Rosalie knew them all from a brief time she spent dating the lead guitarist.
But how did Seth know Randy Jonson? Seth hadn’t even released his first single yet.
Since the music industry was all about who you know, Rosalie was going to find out.
She neatly introduced Dani to Miley Delap, a young British pop artist who had recently left a well-known girl band to go solo.
Rosalie knew Miley’s family through a friend of a friend.
With the girls happily chatting, Rosalie made a beeline for Randy and Seth.
She watched as Randy took a cigarette from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, hung it between his lips and went to light up.
‘Outside, Randy!’ someone called, making Randy laugh. Rosalie watched him pat Seth on the back and tell the people around him, ‘Babysit my kid brother.’
Brother? Seth Young was Randy Jonson’s brother? This was gold. She had to tell Sofia.
But as she turned on the spot, she was nearly rocked off her heels by Graham Shelton, organiser extraordinaire. He was speaking frantically to a producer Rosalie recognised from one of the big labels.
‘What do you mean he’s too sick to go on stage? Give him a pill or something. He’s on in less than twenty minutes,’ Graham said.
‘I’m sorry, man, but he’s in no fit state, believe me.’
‘I hope he knows he’s fucking up his career. What the hell am I supposed to do?’
‘I’m sorry, man, I really am, but he’s just a warm-up act. Can’t one of the others play an extra track or somethin’?’
‘At this stage in the game?’ Graham yelled. ‘Fuck!’
As Rosalie rubbed her battered arm, she listened to the exchange, her mind whirring with an idea. A way of paying Sofia back for teaching her the ropes. A way of making a small dent into the professional side of the industry.
Before she had a chance to second-guess herself and whether Seth was ready for what she was about to propose, she said, ‘Graham, maybe I could help you?’
* * *
‘Are you crazy?’ Seth snapped at Rosalie. Then he turned to Sofia. ‘This is insane. I can’t do this.’
Seth paced up and down in the gents’ toilets, one hand in the pocket of his denim pants, the other rubbing the back of his neck.
‘Please don’t call me crazy,’ Rosalie said.
‘You should be thanking me. I’m using my contacts to get you a break here.
Plus, I’ve seen it done before. Do you remember, Soph?
Three years ago, Andrea took one of her musicians along to the CMAs.
An act pulled out of a day slot and Andrea seized the opportunity, telling the organisers that her latest talent could fill the spot.
It went a long way toward making his next single a hit in indie terms, hitting the indie charts at…
what was it, Soph, like twenty? And just breaking into the Billboard top 100 Hot Country Songs.
So, you see, you just need to take your opportunities. ’
She chose not to highlight that the difference between what Andrea had done three years ago and what she had just committed Seth to in fifteen minutes’ time was about ten thousand people (growing every minute), a significantly larger stage and, well, Madison Square Gardens.
Oops, maybe this was insane.
As Seth continued to pace, Rosalie motioned to Sofia to step in. He was Sofia’s artist, after all. Surely she had some words of wisdom.
‘Look, Seth, Rosalie is right,’ Sofia said calmly.
‘She’s heard your single and wouldn’t have suggested this – I wouldn’t be in agreement with this – if we didn’t think you were up to it.
I want the world to see what you do. I want those people out there to hear your lyrics, the way you play, that voice. ’
‘You’re the complete package, Seth,’ Rosalie added. ‘I mean, I had my doubts when I first saw you, believe me. Those ripped jeans and scruffy boots and… I digress. Tonight, though, you look… you know.’
He stopped pacing and looked at her as if he were contemplating her words. Then he smirked.
‘So maybe look at it this way,’ Sofia tried.
‘You’ve been shot at and you’ve kept people alive in the middle of a war zone.
All I’m asking you to do is go on stage, with Billy and Frankie, and sing like you would have to your platoon.
Like no one else is there. Just you, sitting on some turned-up crates at your FOB. ’
Shot at? He was a soldier?
Rosalie watched him rub the dog tags that hung down his chest, then he looked down to his feet and she truly had no idea whether he would do the show or not. God, maybe she was irresponsible after all.
Then she stood taller and asked firmly, ‘Do you want this, Seth? Do you want to be an artist?’
He raised his eyes and Rosalie saw the answer in his determined look.
‘Then you’re going to have to get used to big stages and screaming fans because you’ve got.
It. All. You’re going all the way. I believe that.
Sofia believes that. And you need to too.
I’ll give you two minutes to decide, and if you choose not to go on stage, I’ll go and tell Graham that you weren’t up to it.
But my best advice, for what it’s worth, is don’t waste life’s opportunities. Take them for those who can’t.’
She left the bathroom, letting the door close behind her. In the corridor, Billy and Frankie were leaning up against the wall, wondering whether they would be going on stage in a matter of minutes.
She twisted one side of her mouth and raised her arms from her sides as if to say, We’ll see, hoping that this wouldn’t come crashing down around her and Sofia.
Why did she think she could meddle in a business she was fast realising she didn’t know at all?
She came to stand between the guys, and the three of them waited for the bathroom door to open, counting long seconds until eventually, the door opened. Sofia appeared first, followed by Seth’s imposing frame filling the doorway.
They waited for Seth’s response. Rosalie held her breath.
Seth cleared his throat and asked, ‘What about the piano?’
As Billy and Frankie quickly got excited, Rosalie exhaled slowly, relieved.
‘You’re going to have to play the piano, Soph,’ Seth said.
‘The stage isn’t for me,’ she said. ‘You can go on without the piano. The guitars sound great anyway.’
‘In the studio, you said the piano makes the track and I agree, so it’s the single with the piano or no show.’
Reluctant though Rosalie was to admit it, from what she had heard in the studio, Seth was right; the piano did carry the melody, particularly in the opening of the track.
She thought quickly. ‘Can’t someone else just play the piano? Billy, you can play piano, right?’
‘Yeah, I can, musical genius, but then we’ll lose the bass guitar and?—’
She held up a hand to quash his sarcasm and told him, ‘Billy, I’m nothing if not a lady with contacts. You guys get ready and I’ll find you a bass guitarist to blow your socks off.’
* * *