Forty-Two
FORTY-TWO
THAT TIME EMILY GRITS HER TEETH SO HARD SHE CHIPS A TOOTH
Jackson, thrilled to be asked, helps us invite eight different label people out to the Nashville show. Five said they’d come, but we put everyone on the comp list just to be sure.
We’re playing Bridgestone Arena and the show’s sold out. I’m as nervous as I was for the very first show, scared to see Don, anxious to play for the label people we invited, worried they’ll tell us we aren’t as great as we think we are.
I made what might be a rash decision and finished out one of the songs in my father’s songwriting journal, one he wrote with Don. I’m hoping Don will hear it and, I don’t know, do something? Say something? I’m not sure what I want to happen, I just know it needs to happen.
We’re all in Kick’s dressing room going over our set for tonight’s show. We’ve been practicing the new song for the last day and a half, wanting it to be perfect. We’re also adding the Bryan Adams cover, “Heaven.” Kick sounds so dreamy on it my knees nearly buckle every time he sings it. With this many songs, we’ll probably go over our allotted twenty minutes but we don’t care.
We’re running through “She’s A Ten” when Emily and Cheddar burst into the room .
“Did you two add all these names to the comp list for tonight?” Emily growls, a copy of the list in her hand.
“Oh hey, Emily. How was your time off?” I am not and will never again give her the satisfaction.
“You do know,” she says, her eyes doing their best to pierce into my soul, “you can’t just invite label people out to a show like it’s your birthday party at the roller rink. This is Nashville. There are rules.”
“Roller rink parties are rad,” Kick says, which makes me laugh, “and I helped submit the names so if you want to yell, yell at us both.”
Cass stands up, shoulders back, chin up. “I sent the list to Nic. And we didn’t go over our allotted comp tickets so I don’t see what the problem is?”
“Look, Kick,” Cheddar says, casual, like he’s about to man-to-man the situation, “you need to leave things like labels and record deals and all that other stuff up to the pros. I’d be happy to sit down with you to go over your options. In fact, Emily and I have a proposal I bet you’d be interested to hear.”
“Mari too, right?” Kick smiles, wide and wicked. “I can’t imagine you’d offer me something and not her. After all, wasn’t it your idea to make us a duo?”
“And I’m now representing Kick, so any offers can come to me,” Cass says.
Cheddar side-eyes Emily who’s now crumpling the comp list in her tight fist.
“You think this is some kind of game?” She says it to all of us, but her anger is directed at me. “You think you can come on this tour, pretend to be someone you’re not, and get away with it?”
“It’s you who thinks it’s a game,” I say, “playing with our careers like we’re chess pieces you get to move around wherever you want to.”
“What are you talking about?” She spits the question out.
Miguel and Mateo, normally so chill, are stone-faced. When we told them about Emily and Cheddar’s backdoor deal, they offered to handle the situation the Diaz way, but we convinced them violence wasn’t the answer.
“I overheard your little meeting,” I say. “In Dallas? With your investor? We know what you’re trying to do.”
Emily cackles. “And what, you think you can get your two-bit manager, who I’ve never heard of by the way, to email a few label people and do better on your own? You’re delusional. You have no idea how any of this works, which, given your family history is surprising.”
“If what we’re doing is so delusional, why has seeing those names on the comp list worked you into such a frothy lather?” Cass asks.
I resist high-fiving Cass as Emily narrows her eyes and presses her red lips together in a firm line. “I’ll take this to Deacon and Don.”
“Cool, tell them we said hi,” Kick says. “And could you shut the door on your way out? We’re trying to rehearse for our set.”
Emily storms out but Cheddar stays behind a second longer to glare at us. “We can have you both off this tour. Tonight.”
I think about Don, how he fought for me to be here in the first place. “No,” I say, “I don’t think you can.”
Cheddar leaves in a huff and we happily watch him go. Kick and I were already amps turned to eleven for tonight’s show but now we’re absolutely levitating. I’m about to lean over and kiss him when the door opens again and Jackson Lord walks in.
“Right in here,” he says, ushering a short, stocky bald man into the dressing room. The man’s eyes light on me and Kick.
“Kick Raines and Mari Gold, I presume?”
“That’s us.” We both stand up to shake his hand.
“I’m Phil Brody from 30 Street Records.”
“Oh, hi! Thank you so much for coming. This is our manager, Cass Zimmerman.”
“Pleasure,” Cass says.
“And our bass player, Miguel Diaz and our drummer, Mateo Diaz. ”
Handshakes and hellos are exchanged all around.
Phil crosses his arms over his broad chest. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you two since the tour started so when I got your invite, I knew I had to be here. Really interested to see your set.”
“We hope you like what you hear,” Kick says.
Phil’s eyes find mine. “I’m especially interested in why you’re choosing not to go by your real name?” He waits for my reply, like he just asked what I’m going to order for dinner.
“Sorry, what?”
“You’re Penny Lovejoy, right?” He lifts one shoulder and drops it back down in a no-big-deal gesture. “Lots of people choose to use stage names but I’m surprised you chose not to go by Lovejoy. It’s a well-respected name in the industry. I knew your father, John, back in the day. Great songwriter.”
A loud whooshing sound fills my ears and my knees nearly give out on me. “I…sorry, I’m just a little stunned. How did you know I’m Penny Lovejoy?”
Kick gives Miguel and Mateo a reassuring look as Phil fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Your sister posted it on Instagram.” He pulls up the post and hands me his phone.
Cass and Kick look over my shoulders and we all stare, mute. There I am, laughing, right after Kick’s slung me over his shoulder in the T.O. photoshoot. This one and the one where Kick’s looking back over his shoulder are both fan favorites.
Polly’s caption reads: So excited for my sister Penny to be out doing the damn thing! I guess talent really does run in the family. Although she’s being sneaky and going by stage name Mari Gold. Go check her out on the Sparrow tour!
She posted it three minutes ago and it has over five million likes.
Wordlessly, I hand the phone back to Phil.
“I take it you didn’t know about the post,” he says with a good-natured chuckle.
I do my best to recover, to act natural when my brain is screaming at full volume .
“I knew it was inevitable,” I joke. “Was just trying to forge my own way outside of the LOVEJOY circus, if you know what I mean.”
“Admirable,” Phil says. “And from what I’ve seen, you’re doing just that.”
We chat for a few minutes about the tour and about 30 Street Records. Kick and Cass asks lots of great questions while I remain semi-catatonic. Once Phil leaves to go say hi to a few other people, I collapse into a heap.
“Are you okay?’ Kick asks.
“We can handle this,” Cass says.
“You’re LOVEJOY’s sister?” Mateo exclaims. “How did I not know this?”
Mateo and Miguel read comments from Polly’s post.
I knew Mari Gold was LOVEJOY’s sister the whole time. Anyone who didn’t know isn’t a true LOVEJOY fan.
Wish I was LOVEJOY’s sister.
As long as she keeps singing with Kick Raines, I don’t care who Mari Gold is.
Anyone think LOVEJOY will show up at a Sparrow show? Would die to see her.
“Someone posted a side-by-side of you and Polly that says, These two are sisters? I don’t see it.”
Cass looks up at me with fierce determination. “I can call your mother. Or call Polly. Or like, hire a lawyer or something.”
Everyone goes quiet, waiting to see what I’ll say.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice quiet, my heart beating double-time. “Everyone knows. Or, they will soon enough.”
Emily and Cheddar storm back in like their asses are on fire.
“What is this?” Cheddar says, shoving his phone into my face.
I don’t have to look. I know what it is. “Aren’t you thrilled? She just told her forty million followers to come to the tour.”
“You told us we couldn’t capitalize on this and now we’ve been scooped,” Emily says, voice flat. “Anything we say now will have lost its fire, so, thanks for that.” She gives Kick an accusatory look.
“Who cares anyway,” Mateo says. His bulging arms are bowed at his sides like he’s gunning for a fight. “Mari doesn’t need to shout about being a Lovejoy. She’s a kickass singer and guitar player.”
I have seriously not given the Vampire Twins enough credit.
Emily seethes. She’s lost the reigns and she knows it. “You two would be nothing without us. The only reason you even have a set for label people to come and see is because of me and Cheddar.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say.
She breaths out hard, nostrils flaring. “We’ll need to put out a response. About the Lovejoy connection. The media will expect details.”
Jackson pops his head in, unaware of the tension in the room. “More label people here to see you.”
“Give us a minute,” Emily barks.
“We’ve got time,” Kick says. “We’ll come out.”
The five of us file past Emily and Cheddar like rival middle school teams at the end of an intense basketball game. They don’t follow, no doubt staying behind to strategize how to make this about them.
Two of the label people we invited are in the hall with Jackson. They don’t mention Polly’s post and I don’t either. I know I’ll have to deal with her announcement sooner than I’d like to, but I’m still hoping tonight can be about the music, about what Kick and I have together. We spend the next few minutes talking with the label people about the show, about the four of us, about our songs. Despite the hammering in my head, the conversation feels good, like we’re sliding into the space we’re meant to be in. The four of us plus Cass are a unit. A great one. Doing this together feels right.
When it’s five minutes to show, Cass takes the label people side stage to watch our set. Miguel and Mateo leave for the stage. Kick and I head back to the dressing room to get our guitars. Inside, he pulls me into his arms with a soft smile.
“This is all because of you, you know. These label people wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You were meant for this.”
“Because I’m a Lovejoy? Because it’s in my blood?”
That’s always been the why. I’ve only ever meant something to someone because of who I happen to be related to.
He shakes his head. “Because you’re a glowing ember on stage that can hold the attention of thousands of people at once. It’s Mari Gold doing that, not your sister or your father, whoever he is. It’s you. You were meant for this.”
“You think we can we really do this? After everything? Polly’s post…”
Kick reaches over to the couch where his guitar is propped and picks it up before handing me mine. “Let’s go find out.”