Chapter 10
I wandered over to my desk, the very place where I’d one day picked up a pen and never put it back down, dreaming and scribbling and writing until the ink ran out.
It was the place where I’d written my first short story at eight years old, which, looking back, had been awfully similar to Little Women, the novel that Edith had suggested I read the month before.
It was the place where I had first fallen in love with the act of pouring out the tales that had grown in my mind onto a page.
It was the place where my first awkward attempts at crafting a story had gradually become less awkward with each go around—until one day, I was struck with the gratifying realization that I was a good writer.
Fast-forward a couple of decades and here I was, preparing to interview one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. Because I—Jane Caldwell, writer—was penning her memoir. The young Jane who grew up in this room would have been over the moon. Even if it wasn’t her name on the cover.
I set my bag down and opened my laptop to read through some of the questions for Liv that I’d scrawled out on the flight over, keeping in mind the specific directions Alexandria had given me: “Keep it light, sweet, fun. People aren’t going to Liv for wisdom. Save that for an activist, you know?”
Light. Sweet. Fun. Got it.
I pushed aside the old notebooks and knickknacks that covered my desk. My laptop awoke after a few taps on the space bar, and I read through my questions. With the notepad app open and my cursor blinking, I was ready to go.
I quickly checked my teeth in my phone’s reflection, combed my fingers through my hair, and signed on to our meeting. Half a minute later, Liv’s camera connected.
“Hi, Jane!” I heard her voice ring out before her bright face popped up on my screen. Even webcams were kind to her, the lucky girl.
“Hey, Liv, it’s good to see you,” I said in my best career woman voice.
“Yeah, great to see you too!”
We didn’t waste much time on small talk before we launched into the questions I had for her.
I took notes while recording the meeting as well, jotting down ideas for chapters and themes as she answered my inquiries about her family, how she discovered her talent for songwriting, and her quick rise to fame.
After about thirty minutes of straight business talk, I’d gone through each of the questions and gathered enough material to put together a detailed outline and start on the first chapter or two.
The conversation hit a lull. We both smiled and nodded, wondering if the other had anything more to say. Just when I expected her to rush off the call, something else happened.
“So . . . how are you, by the way?” She laughed. “I feel like we haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other at all.”
She was absolutely right. We hadn’t. None of my previous clients had been particularly interested in nonprofessional conversation.
I’d learned to roll up my sleeves, cut the fat, and get right to business whenever speaking to anyone I was writing a book for.
But Liv had just done what none of them ever had. She’d asked about me.
“Uh, I’m not too bad, thanks for asking. How are you?” I wasn’t exactly sure how to make friendly, unscripted conversation with a pop star, but I’d give it a try.
“I’m good.” She let out a loaded sigh. “I’m in Tokyo right now for a commercial and then I’m flying to London tomorrow to work on my next album with my producer.” Her wide smile had a streak of exhaustion hidden just beneath the surface.
“Sounds like you’re pretty busy.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I think I could take a month-long nap.”
“You certainly deserve it.”
She settled down on a black leather couch in what seemed to be a massive, sleek, and modern suite. It was a bright day in Tokyo, judging by the wall of windows behind her that showed off the city.
“Where are you calling from?” she asked, clearly trying to make out the print of Waterhouse’s Miranda painting behind me.
“I’m in Colorado, visiting my parents,” I said with a half smile. Liv’s eyes lit up.
“You’re from Colorado?”
“Yeah, just a tiny mountain town a little over an hour outside of Denver.”
“Oh, you’re so lucky,” she cried.
“What do you mean?” What could Olivia Carter, a jet-setting Grammy Award–winner, possibly think was lucky about me or my life?
“I’d love to be in a mountain town right now. Far away from any craziness. That sounds so peaceful.”
I hid my smirk. Everyone thought they wanted to be in a mountain town until they realized the nearest Starbucks was half an hour away by car—longer if the roads were slick.
“I hear that. But Tokyo? London? Commercial shoots? That’s a pretty amazing life, no?”
Liv nodded effusively. “Of course. It really is. I just mean that—I don’t know, at a certain point, it’s like, I’ve done shoots . . . you know? Ugh, I feel like I can’t get to what I’m trying to say right now.”
“I can imagine that it gets exhausting, traveling so much,” I commented, hoping to encourage her to keep talking.
“Yeah, it does. But it’s not just the traveling.
It’s like . . . I don’t know, sometimes I think about what it would be like to live in a small town.
Where you know everyone, and everyone knows you.
And you just have a normal life. And I mean ‘normal’ in a good way.
I don’t know if that makes sense.” She shook her head.
It did, and it didn’t. Avila Falls was normal. But that’s what I had struggled with most. It hadn’t ever felt possible to live a life that mattered in a place that was so normal. And I needed to matter.
“I don’t ever mean to sound like I’m not grateful,” she added.
“No, no, you’re not. Not at all.”
“I’ve just noticed that people assume once you have money and fame and a few million Instagram followers, you have it all. And I just don’t know if that’s true.”
“What do you think it looks like to have it all?” I asked.
Liv scrunched her face, considering my question.
“I guess, like, having the assurance that you have people around you who love you as a person, not as a product. You know? Having a family who loves you with or without the fancy stuff, friends who aren’t trying to get anything out of you.
A relationship that wasn’t planned by PR people. ”
It hadn’t ever occurred to me that someone like Liv, who sold out stadiums and got invited on late-night talk shows, who had more money than she could ever spend, who’d been showered with adoration and attention and awards, who’d dated some of the most handsome actors, could be unhappy with her life.
I couldn’t comprehend the kind of life Liv was leading.
I didn’t know what it was like to have eyes on me like she did or the notoriety she had gained over the last few years that had seemingly turned on like a faucet one day.
But I could tell she wasn’t being fake or dramatic or unappreciative.
She wasn’t trying to throw a pity party.
It struck me that she probably hadn’t felt the freedom to talk about this many times before.
“I’m sorry, Liv, that sounds really rough. For better or worse, you’re living a life that most people can’t understand.” I paused, thinking, before tacking on, “That must be lonely.”
I hoped I hadn’t overstepped my boundaries with that last comment.
“Yeah, it is. It’s okay. I guess I should’ve said this before, but I’d like for all of this to stay off the record.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” I nodded. An off-the-record conversation with a celebrity client was a first. Though a part of me wondered, Is this what we should be focusing on in Liv’s book? Fame, loneliness, fulfillment?
Light. Sweet. Fun.
She smiled softly. “I love making music, performing, all of that . . . it’s just the stuff that comes along with it, it’s hard sometimes. Thanks for letting me get that out. But I don’t want to leave things on a sad note. Tell me about your day in this little town of yours.” She grinned.
Liv wanted to know about my life? So many firsts in such a short amount of time.
“Well, let’s see,” I chuckled. What to tell a pop star about little old Avila Falls?
“It’s been a while since I’ve visited, but not much has changed.
But I guess there’s a kind of comfort in that, in passing the same little stores and the same people .
. . it can be kind of weird sometimes, though.
Like when you almost run into a guy from your high school. ”
Why had I just said that? The comment had inadvertently slipped out of my mouth before I’d had a chance to evaluate and dismiss it.
I laughed to try to cover it up. Maybe Liv had been distracted and hadn’t even heard me, or maybe the connection had dropped out for a few moments, or maybe she wouldn’t read into it.
Ask about the stores. The landscape. The history of the town. Anything but Noah. Please.
“Wait, tell me more about that!” Liv leaned in.
“Uh—about . . .?”
“The guy!” Shoot.
“Oh, I don’t even know why I said that. I just—I was driving through town, and I saw this guy I used to know. It was just weird.” I shrugged indifferently, hoping this would be enough to satisfy Liv’s curiosity.
“Was he cute?” she beamed. My heartbeat flickered. Suddenly, we were two thirteen-year-old girls gushing over boys. I fought off a silly grin.
“Um, I mean, I guess so,” I replied, pretending I’d never even contemplated Noah Elliot’s attractiveness. Liv giggled girlishly. I flushed red.
“You like him!” she exclaimed.
“I don’t—I used to have a thing for him in high school.” I shook my head, wondering how I’d managed to get myself into the mess of talking about Noah on what was supposed to be a business call.
“You should ask him to meet up. Who knows what could happen!”
Meeting up with Noah was absolutely not on the agenda. And calling his attention to my presence in Avila Falls wasn’t going to happen—not if I could help it. I’d managed to avoid doing as such in the years I’d visited since graduation, and I wasn’t about to break that streak.
“Trust me,” Liv continued, “guys like it when you take some initiative. Plus, he’d be lucky.” At that point, the silly grin won the battle. I couldn’t help but smile.
“I’ll consider that,” I said. Though I most definitely wouldn’t. Still, it was sweet that Liv had even bothered to ask a single question. Let alone follow-up questions. Who would’ve thought the highest profile client I’d ever had would also be the kindest?
“So what are you in Colorado for, anyway? Isn’t it a little early in the month to visit for Christmas?”
“No, actually, my mom’s birthday.”
“Aw, that’s sweet! What did you get her?” Liv asked. My stomach dropped as I realized that, in my haste to book a last-minute flight to Colorado, I’d forgotten to get anything for my mom.
“A book,” I lied. Soon I’d find an excuse to venture out and secure one.
We wrapped up the call soon after, setting up our next chat for a couple days later before hanging up.
I hadn’t anticipated being surprised by Liv.
To connect with her in some way, to genuinely like her, to have her take interest in me or my life.
It seemed most people these days lacked the ability to take interest in anyone but themselves.
But she had. And strangely, I was looking forward to our next call.
I tiptoed out of my bedroom, scoping out the living room as I pulled on my boots.
“Jane?” Mom called out.
My parents sat in the living room in their pajamas, an episode of what I assumed was To Serve and Protect playing.
“Hey.” I smiled.
“You going out?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, I just forgot to pack something. I’ll be quick.”
“Okay, well, we’ll probably be in bed by the time you come home,” Mom said.
“So we’ll see you in the morning.” Dad gave an obvious wink, reminding me of the festivities he’d planned tomorrow.
“That you will.”
I hoisted my purse over my shoulder, stepped out into the brisk Colorado night, and started on my mission.