1. Jack #2
Be gentle with me. That had me thinking distinctly ungentle thoughts.
I took both her hands. Small and a little cold, just like I remembered. “I’m the one who should be nervous.”
“I wrote this song thinking of you,” she said. “So there’s no call for that.”
Thang. God, I loved the way she talked.
“Y’all ready?” Hutch’s voice came over the talkback, from the board, without him turning around.
Hutch Miles had produced half the records I’d worn out growing up, and now he produced mine.
I still pinched myself every time. He swiveled the chair around at last and laced his hands over his belly.
“I’ve got a wacky idea. You might hate it.
But I’ve got a feeling about something.”
“Should I be scared?” Ivy asked.
“I want to cut this with the two of you in the same booth.”
“That right?” I said. “How come?”
“Song’s about two people finding each other.” Hutch shrugged. “I want to put you in there together, sing it live. I think something special might happen.”
I rubbed my chin, realizing I could’ve used a shave. “Never done it that way.” Normally we cut each lead alone and comped it later, an engineer stitching the best bits of ten takes into one performance that never actually happened.
“If we can’t use it, we’ll do it the regular way,” Hutch said.
Ivy put her hand on my arm. “I’m in if you are.”
I about got lost in those blue pools, till Knox said, “I think it’s a great idea. Nothing to lose. Other than we’d be taking the slick out of the oil.”
“Slick out of the oil?” Ivy asked. “What’s that mean?”
Knox cut a look at Madeleine. “Just that we think a lot about packaging these days.” Air quotes. “Instead of music.”
I shook my head at him. He paid me no mind.
“We’re supposed to be outlaws,” he said. “Instead we’re mainstream. And we all know why.”
I glanced at Madeleine. The jab was meant for her.
She didn’t blink. “That mainstream made you rich. You can be an outlaw on your own time.” She held up a hand. “Oh—that’s right. You already have been. Multiple times.”
I held my breath, figuring Knox was about to blow.
This feud of theirs had started the first day they met and never let up, not through all our success or the money that came with it.
Knox wouldn’t so much as acknowledge what Madeleine had done for us.
He poked at her instead, hunting for a reaction, and mostly she acted like he wasn’t even in the room, which did exactly what she wanted. Drove him out of his mind.
“Did you hear about Knox’s escapades last month?” Madeleine asked Ivy.
Ivy made a face and shook her head, obviously uncomfortable.
“No, you didn’t. Because of my work,” Madeleine said. “The story of Knox live-streaming himself throwing the entire tour’s merch into a fire pit? Nowhere to be found. Because of me.”
“They were printing that junk in an overseas sweatshop,” Knox said. “Kids, Ivy. Think about that. Not what we stand for.”
“And the time last year he smashed a label exec’s vintage guitar against a brick wall.”
“That worm got what he deserved. He humiliated our opening act. And he doesn’t even know how to play, so why was that guitar hanging on his wall in the first place?”
Madeleine rolled her eyes. “It’s easy for you to have judgment and act like a child, but someone has to clean it up. Me. Which I do. Over and over.”
“Clean it up, huh? You want to talk clean up? That kid, Roman Murphy. That’s his name, in case you never bothered to learn it, Price.
Audiences loved him. People started showing up early just for his set.
And the worm Dunmore pulled his mic three songs in because he wanted the slot for some girl he was sleeping with.
Had security walk a twenty-year-old kid out the loading dock past the whole crew like he’d stolen something.
And, he gave one of the kid’s songs to one of his other darlings, and she got a hit from it.
The worm signed the credit as the co-writer too.
Like it was nothing. Like the kid was nothing. ”
“I knew his name,” Madeleine said, tight. “I helped get him on that stage. You and your hot head have conveniently forgotten that part.”
“So you say.” Knox lifted a shoulder. “Anyway. I broke the worm’s guitar.
Should’ve broke his nose.” He finally looked at her, and there was no grin left in it.
“But no worries, right? You made it disappear. Protected the worm. Heck, you probably sent him a gift basket and an apology. Is that what I should thank you for?” He picked a low, sour note and let it ring.
“I didn’t want it to disappear, Price. I wanted it to cost somebody.
For once. Instead, it cost the only person who did nothing wrong.
Roman’s tour still ended early. The worm kept his job.
Wrong writer’s still got credit for a hit that should’ve been Roman’s. ”
“Shame about that guitar, though,” Grant said to nobody, turning a stick over. “Vintage. Worth a small fortune.”
“Shame about Roman too,” Ivy said. “But it’s hardly Madeleine’s fault.”
For once, Knox didn’t say anything.
Beck ran an easy line up the keys. “I’m hungry. Let’s get to work.” He smiled at Knox, then at Madeleine.
It almost worked. Knox’s shoulders dropped half an inch.
Then I saw Ivy.
A communication of some kind passed between her and Madeleine, just like Rhett and I could speak whole sentences to each other without a single word.
“What happened to Roman?” Ivy asked.
“Back home in Kentucky,” Knox said. “Tending bar.”
“Well, that won’t do.” Ivy planted her hands on her hips. “I’ll have my assistant call him. See if he wants to open for me next month. I start the tour for the new album.”
Knox blinked. “You can do that?”
“I can now, and I’ll tell you why.” Ivy spoke with ease and authority, which was undeniably attractive.
“You can’t imagine the guff I’ve taken over the years from music executives, treating me like a little girl, undermining my confidence.
In general, being real buttholes. Telling me who to be and what to sing. I was over it.”
Knox laughed.
“Knox, I’ve wanted to break a few things or pull a punch myself over the years, but I don’t because Mama would die of shame if I got myself arrested.
But I’d had enough. So I did something about it.
I recorded this last album independently with Wes Callahan.
I sing what I want. Hire the band I want.
Design my own tour. And I do it knowing that no one cares as much as I do about my success.
Plus, I get to be the person my mama and daddy expect me to be, like offering a hand up to your kid Roman. ”
“Well, okay, then,” Knox said.
She was something else. A force of nature, stronger than any hurricane I’d ever seen, in a petite frame and gobs of blonde hair. She was even prettier when all fired up too.
I couldn’t be sure. But I strongly suspected I’d just fallen in love with Ivy James.