Chapter 3
Chapter Three
M attie was so keyed up from the non-brunch fiasco that she didn’t remember the drive home. She climbed to her rooftop deck in a daze and tried to write, but the outburst of anger she’d unleashed on Della left her feeling drained and empty.
Della sent text after text after text. I’m sorry Mattie! This is all my fault. Please come back!
Mattie deleted them.
Piper called, but Mattie didn’t pick up. Piper left a voice mail she didn’t listen to, followed by a text. I’m proud of you. I’m here when you need me.
Three hours later she’d come down off the initial wave of anger and was left wallowing in a pit of embarrassment. She never spoke like that to anyone, and the experience had been both liberating and exhausting.
She almost picked up the phone when Lizzie called. Almost. But what would she say? That she was sorry? She wasn’t. Not in the slightest. It felt like a weight on one part of her soul had been lifted. She’d finally said everything she wished she’d said years ago.
Of course, now there was a hole that instantly filled with regret and sadness. She shouldn’t have done it. Not like that.
Lizzie didn’t leave a voice mail, but a few seconds later a text dinged. I love you, Mattie Cake. We’ll get through this. I promise.
Her sister’s kind concern came through the texts, which made her feel even worse. Mattie curled up in bed and cried until she ran out of tears.
Monday morning she once again sat on her deck, dry-eyed and soaked in LA’s smoggy sunlight with a cup of coffee in her hand and nothing to do.
Maybe she should go on vacation. She could recharge somewhere pretty, far away from everything and everyone.
That sounded depressingly lonely.
Her phone buzzed and the song “Genie in a Bottle” by Christina Aguilera played. She’d picked that song for her manager, Kat Crawford, because she was so good at making things happen. If Mattie needed a project, Kat found it. If Mattie wanted a girls’ night out, Kat arranged it. She was a shoulder to cry on and a business sounding board. She’d only known Kat about four years, but she trusted her almost as much as her own sisters.
Well, all but one.
Kat’s face popped up on the screen. Her dark hair was in a high ponytail, her lips were a bright shade of purple, and her eyes danced with laughter.
Mattie sighed and picked up the phone. She accepted the video chat and tried to smile. “Hey, Kat.”
Kat gave her a soft, soothing smile in return. “Hey, there. How you doing, sweetie?”
Mattie shrugged. “I’m fine. I’ll get over it.”
Kat raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I thought you’d be over-the-top-pissy about this. I mean, it’s a low blow. A really low blow. I’m looking into whether we can sue for libel or defamation. Something.”
Mattie frowned. “What? I’m not suing my own sisters, no matter what they said. Besides, I’m the one who erupted this time.”
Kat sat back in her deck chair. “What? You erupted? Wait…are we even talking about the same thing?”
“I’m not sure. What are you talking about?”
Kat shook her head. “No, no. You go first. What about your sisters?”
Mattie sighed and propped the phone against a notebook on the table next to her lounge chair. “Remember I told you Lizzie was in town?”
Kat nodded. “Yes. You were going to brunch at The Flower Pot. Totally jealous. Next time I want to come with.”
Mattie grimaced. “I may never show my face there again. Lizzie invited Della.”
Kat’s mouth formed an O . “I thought you said you both talked about it and decided not to invite her.”
“We did.”
“So, what changed?”
“I think Lizzie hoped we would all talk it out and get past the whole breakup thing.”
Kat took a hit off a cigarette and blew out the smoke. “I can guess what happened next. Piper saw Della, went ballistic, and dishes were thrown.”
Mattie bit her lower lip to ward off the shimmer of shame. “Actually, Piper was pretty low key. I’m the one who went nuts. I didn’t throw anything, but I said plenty.”
“What brought this attack of voice on?” Kat tamped out her mostly unsmoked cigarette .
“She said she wants to get the group back together. Just flipped that right out there like it was no big thing. Drop what you’re doing, be my beck-and-call girl.” Heat crawled up the back of her neck as she thought about it.
Kat looked thoughtful. “What did you say to that?”
“I said no. A lot.” Even three days later, the anger of that moment threatened to overwhelm her again. Leave it to her baby sister to push every button she had.
“Okay. That’s…okay.” Kat glanced down at something, probably her iPad, and frowned. The woman was the queen of multitasking. “How did Lizzie and Piper take it?”
“Piper didn’t really get a chance to react. I started shouting and that stopped everything else.” Why did she feel like she’d been caught doing something wrong? “Anyway, Piper didn’t need to say anything. Everyone knows she’s still mad at Della, though I think if Della would just apologize, Piper would get over it. She follows everything Della does in social media, and she tells us every time anything happens. She misses Della as much as me and Lizzie, she just won’t admit it.”
“And Lizzie? Did she break up the fight or what?”
“Oh, we didn’t fight like that. Mostly Della just stared at me in horror. Nobody expects me to act like that. It’s usually Piper.” Mattie thought back to the day and tried to sort out what she’d seen. During her emotional outburst, she’d caught flashes of Lizzie’s face. “I think Lizzie knew Della wanted to get back together, but I don’t think she was supposed to ask us that day. Lizzie looked surprised, but not shocked.”
They were silent for a moment. Kat gave her space to process, which was one of the things Mattie loved most about her friend and manager. “You know, if we could really talk, just once, I think we’d get past all this. But we never do, you know? Piper keeps herself too busy, Lizzie’s preoccupied with Renic, and Della’s oblivious. ”
Kat’s look of understanding was so tender and sincere that Mattie felt like crying again. “That’s family for you. Can’t live with ’em, can’t divorce ’em or sue for alimony. You should see how crazy mine gets around the holidays.”
Mattie thought about the last holiday she’d had with all of her sisters. It was almost five years ago now. The thought made her incredibly sad.
“Hey.” Kat tapped the phone. “Don’t worry. Della’s reaching out, which is a good start. You’ll get through this. You all will.”
“I hope so.” Mattie sniffed and dragged her thoughts back to the subject. “What did you mean before? Who are you trying to sue? For what?”
Kat grimaced. “I guess you haven’t seen it after all.”
“What?”
“Devon Morales tweeted about you all weekend. You haven’t checked?”
“No. Why? What’d he say?” Her creative partnership with Devon had started out pleasant enough. Devon was funny, and charming in a boy-next-door sort of way. They worked on the love song that was currently topping the charts for over six months, which was longer than she usually liked to spend on one project. They had a lot of laughs, and more than a few late nights in the studio.
Then one night he kissed her, which made everything awkward. He was a friend, but she wasn’t attracted to him, and she hated when romance interfered with the music.
“For one thing, he says you broke his heart.”
“Seriously? How?”
“He says you basically dumped him at the altar. Well, not quite, but you get the drift.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends. We weren’t in a relationship. I mean, sure we went to dinner a few times to work on the song, and we spent a lot of time together in the studio. But that was work, not a date. I didn’t even know he liked me until he tried to kiss me. And I told him I didn’t feel that way about him. We were never a thing.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Kat’s commiserating look didn’t make her feel any better.
“What is it with men? Just because I wrote a love song doesn’t mean I was in love with him.”
“I know.”
Frustration bubbled. “Mark Serano did the same thing, except he didn’t wait for me to finish the song before he started pushing me for sex.”
Kat held up a finger. “Don’t forget Roger Cruise. And Bishop Keller. Oh, and Greg Nelson. I still get emails from all of them. Bishop called last week to ask if you were available for another project.”
Mattie stiffened. She liked Bishop, but not that way. He was a nice guy, full of down-to-earth charm and honest to a fault, but too, well, boring for her tastes. “What did you say?”
“I told him you were already committed.” Kat winked.
Mattie rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair. “I’m done working with men. They can’t separate the feelings in the song from actual feelings for a real live person.”
Kat bit her lip. “Yeah. About that.”
“What?” Mattie narrowed her eyes at her. “There’s more, isn’t there.”
Kat flinched. “After he called you out a few times without an answer he went on to say other things.”
“Should I go look?”
“No.” Kat shook her head. “Definitely not. But here’s the thing. He’s claiming he wrote the songs, and you’re trying to steal credit. ”
Mattie blinked. She couldn’t have heard that right. “Say that again?”
Kat lit another cigarette. “It’s complete bullshit, of course. We have a contract, and it stipulates that your name be on the jacket as cowriter. If he tries to bypass that we’ll definitely sue.”
Mattie picked up one of her notebooks and thumbed through it. All the scribbled verses, jumbled captions, and doodles were proof she’d written the lyrics on Devon’s new hit. Except nobody ever saw these notebooks on Twitter, and it wasn’t like they announced the songwriter on the radio. “Think I should call him out on his bullshit? Maybe post pictures of my notes?”
“No, sweetie. Don’t take the bait.” Kat held up her iPad. “Thing is, I got an email this morning that makes this a bigger deal than it should be. The song’s been submitted for a Grammy. Best Pop Solo Performance.”
“Not song?”
Kat tossed her iPad aside. “No, hun. Sorry.”
Mattie sipped her tea while she absorbed the implications of that. “So not only did the label submit in a way that basically ignores me, but now Devon’s on Twitter calling me a fake?”
Kat took a long drag of her cigarette. “They can’t ignore you completely. Like I said, your name’s on the jacket. But if it wins he doesn’t have to acknowledge you and from the looks of things, he definitely won’t.”
Mattie swore. “I knew he was pissed off when I told him I wasn’t interested in a relationship, but this is unbelievable. What a spiteful little weasel! This sucks.”
“Yes, it does.” Kat flicked ashes off the end of her cigarette.
Mattie shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve been writing songs since I was old enough to hold a crayon, but my name’s nowhere. ”
“Plenty of people know what you mean to music, Mattie, and everyone knows he’s full of shit.”
“Do they really? I mean, when someone says Bellamy who do you think of first?”
“You, honey. Always.” Kat puffed out smoke.
“You have to say that. I meant you in the collective sense. I was never the face. Never the one in front. So when you think of a Bellamy song, you think Della or Piper. Not me. I mean, we won a few awards as a group but never Song of the Year. The way things are going now, I’m never going to win anything, because I’m not performing them myself, and I’m not signed with a label. Of course they back their own artist, and not me. I’m basically invisible.”
“Sweetie, you’ve never been invisible.” Kat tamped out her cigarette and picked up a mug. “But I get your point. You do need some visibility, and an award would give you that. If you don’t get back with your sisters, have you given any thought to going solo yourself?”
Her gut churned at the idea. “No. I’m done with that. I’m done with all of it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes I do. The well’s dry. I don’t have any songs left in me. Maybe I’ll pull a Della and go move in with Lizzie to help run the inn. It’s really peaceful up there.”
“I guess that means you wouldn’t be interested in a new project.” Kat looked far too coy, and her tone was carefully casual.
Mattie’s first instinct was to end the call. “I haven’t written anything at all in three days.”
“That’s quite a dry spell for you.” Kat reached for another cigarette, glared at it, then put it down.
“I thought you were going to quit smoking,” Mattie said in her most diplomatic voice .
“I am. I’ve been tapering by taking no more than three hits per cigarette. It’s costing me a fortune. Anyway, I think what you really need is a chance to put all this other stuff behind you by focusing on something different.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure I’m up for anything right now. Between Morales the Misguided and Della the Diva, I’m just…I’m done.” The thought of writing another song right now made her sick. Her emotions were spinning like a load of laundry stuck on the high heat setting.
“It’s Delusions of Glory.” Kat’s voice rose and her face lit up as she said the band name. “They’re looking for someone to help them fill out their album, and Adam Brooks asked for you specifically.”
“Really?” Mattie thought about that. She knew the band, of course. They were world famous. And unlike The Bellamy Sisters, nobody thought the studio wrote their songs. She didn’t know if it was because they were men, or because they were older when they got started, but either way, she resented the unequal treatment. “Why?”
“Because Johnny J left, and from what I hear the fantastically gorgeous Mr. Brooks hasn’t really meshed with anyone else.”
“So why would I be any different?”
She didn’t know much about Adam Brooks. She had a vague memory of him in the tabloids. Something about a model he was dating or dumping. She hadn’t paid it much attention.
“Because you’re you, and because according to his manager you’re the only one he’s asked for by name.”
She remembered a couple of Delusions of Glory songs. Their two biggest hits, “You Got Something” and “Living in the Moment,” were fun and catchy, with beats designed to drive up the blood pressure of any parent and solid-gold lyrics as far as angsty teens were concerned.
They were good songs, but rougher around the edges than she liked. If she was listening to music for fun, it usually featured softer melodies that suited her voice so she could belt it out in the shower.
“I don’t see it working out, do you? I mean, we don’t have the same style at all. He’s edgy race car rock, and I’m dreamy romance and pop. They don’t really go together.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. They’re looking for something new. Their manager told me this album is nothing like anything they’ve done before. They need a new perspective now that Johnny J is gone. That’s where you come in. I think meshing your dreamy with their steamy would make excellent music. Plus, they’re already planning on submitting one of these three for Song of the Year. If you want credit, this is the way to get it. They mentioned making one a duet.”
Mattie’s heart jerked like a fish on the line. Winning Song of the Year would mean more than just a writing credit. It would feel like the sun rising after a long, dark night, but it would also mean working with one of rock’s playboys.
Mattie closed her eyes and pictured the last time she was in the studio with Devon. He’d kept staring at her and licking his lips, as if she were a juicy piece of steak. “If it’s just me and Adam Brooks in the studio, it could get touchy-feely and awkward real quick.”
“I doubt it’ll be just him. There’s five in the band, and I know his brother, Brandon, is listed as cowriter on a lot of the songs over the years. Plus, the duet doesn’t have to be a love song.”
“If it’s the whole band, we might never get a song written at all. Writing by committee never really works out, you know?” She didn’t need any more drama, and this gig sounded like it would be nothing but drama. It would have to be with so many people involved.
But “Song of the Year” revolved in her head like an old record.
“Take this job as a favor to me. Keep it strictly professional. No dinners. No alone time.”
“I took the last job as a favor to you. Look how well that turned out.” Mattie stuck her tongue out.
“Here’s the thing, sweetie.” Kat leaned in closer to the phone. “You need to get your name out there on something that’s not sweet pop. Delusions has the edge you need. It’s a great chance to show your range, get your name in lights, and stick it to Devon and everyone else. Especially if you keep things strictly professional.”
“Hey, I’m always professional. He was the one who made up a fake relationship. How is that my fault?”
“It isn’t. That’s not what I’m saying.” Kat picked up another cigarette and shoved it between her lips. It dipped up and down while she spoke. “What I’m saying is, you need this. We need this. If you win Song of the Year with no added drama, it’ll make it obvious all the crap-talk from Devon was just that. Otherwise he’s got the clout behind him since he’s still riding high on a number one hit, and he’s the one talking the loudest, and you know it’s always guilty until proven innocent as far as public opinion is concerned.”
Mattie sat back. On the plus side, if she took on this project, she wouldn’t have to fight with Della over whether The Bellamy Sisters should get back together. She would be legitimately busy and unable to take phone calls. The lure of a possible Best Song dangled in front of her, shiny and tempting and just out of reach.
On the flip side, if she didn’t take this project, eventually she would cave and talk to Della, who was extremely skilled at getting what she wanted out of just about everybody.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves before she admitted she’d already caved to the inevitable. “I’ll meet with them.”
“Great! I’ll set it up for Wednesday. Your studio or theirs?”
“Theirs. That way I can leave if I need to. And make sure they agree to no love songs.” Mattie waved at the phone. “Thanks, Kat.”
“Hang in there, girl.” Kat waved and ended the call.
Mattie lifted her face to the morning sun and tried to push all the drama out of her mind. When that didn’t work, she threw on a sundress and went for pastries.