Chapter 3
Raleigh
IT’S AN EARLY MORNING for Mae and company, but thankfully, last night’s gala was followed by a girls’ night at Mae’s condo downtown. I’d say we’re faring much better than Trenton, who looks as if he didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.
It may be the heat of summer but these two stars are cold as ice toward each other.
The morning meeting was filled with backward glances and icy attitudes.
Thankfully, it’s just studio time today, no filming.
That part will come early fall where the two of them will walk the best tourist attractions in town and sing along to the playback they put down today.
If they can hold it together long enough to do it.
As Mae passes me by to head into her recording booth, my attention turns to the hallway.
I expect to see Trenton on her heels. Instead, I see him gesturing flippantly to the man standing across from him.
My eyes widen, and I let my curiosity get the better of me.
Stepping out of Trenton’s eyeline to listen in, I pull out my phone and pretend to swipe through a few texts, but in reality, all my focus is on the conversation happening just beyond the doorway. What I hear surprises me.
Trenton is apologizing for something, and I have to stifle a laugh.
I can’t even imagine a day that he’d apologize to me or Mae, or any woman for that matter.
My eyes become glazed when I hear him grovel.
I glance up wanting to see who the poor bastard is that’s facing the brunt of a Trenton Travers hangover.
The man catches me looking, but I just shake my head with a smirk.
What happened to tweeze a full blown apology from the king-of-not-caring is beyond me, but I actually don’t care.
The man, who looks familiar, is still staring, and since I’d rather not turn Trenton’s attention toward me or Mae, I spin away with the swish of my ponytail. I should be focusing on getting Mae through the next hour or so of recording and making sure she doesn’t step on anyone's toes.
Returning to actual work on my phone, I only glance back up when Trenton enters the room.
Pulling on the crotch of his jeans as he passes by, I nearly gag.
I do my best to remain neutral as the familiar man slips into the crowded production room, but in front of me, something else demands my attention.
Trenton shares a sweet smile with Mae before removing his hat and putting on his headphones.
It’s hard to ignore the way Mae’s eyes dart from him to me and then back to him.
The timid smile she repays him with has me frowning.
I hope she hasn’t forgiven and forgotten what he did already; it would be a new record.
Concerned and suddenly nervous that Trenton might be planning something, I cross my arms and don’t remove my eyes from him as the mix fills the booth, and Mae and Trenton make their magic.
They sing an old classic, as they usually do together, and despite all the issues, everyone is enamored with their harmony.
I sigh and silently curse the universe for making them sound so heavenly together when every other moment with them is a damn battle.
It’s the hardest dilemma this job has ever given me: wanting them together and simultaneously as far apart from each other as possible.
The magic in the studio is surprisingly carried over into the lunch break.
Mae is hanging all over him, and it’s honestly concerning how no one else seems to care about this back and forth behavior.
I’ve been telling myself that it’s normal for them, but as I ride on the opposite side of the elevator from them and Trenton’s head of security, I can’t help but think that their normal isn’t exactly healthy.
“You have something to say?” Mae’s sheepish voice asks the cramped air.
I open my mouth to speak, but know better than to air the dirty laundry with Trenton present.
I snap my mouth shut and shake my head but keep my eyes trained on them.
Mae straightens, knowing I’m not happy. There’s no time to make anything of it because as soon as the doors ding, Trenton has Mae’s hand in his and they’re flying through the lobby to the front doors.
I push away from the wall and calmly follow after them. They’re already in the SUV by the time I get to the street. As I reach for the handle to help myself inside, I’m met with a firm hand to my shoulder. Trenton’s face appears from inside.
“You understand, Raleigh.” His smile—that some would see as charming, that I recognize as a snake in the grass—meets me.
“We kind of want some time to talk at lunch.” Despite my resolve earlier, I can’t hold back here.
My mouth falls agape, and I lean around Trenton to find Mae in the car looking out the opposite window. Coward.
It’s a standoff until Trenton shoves lightly on my shoulder. I feel my fingers curl into a fist and I’m moments away from swinging, but I feel a gentle hand on back. Turning in a fury, I find Trenton’s security guard. His head is turned low, an apologetic look just visible from where I stand.
“I’ll be with them,” he mumbles. The man very gently tugs at my blazer, and I finally step back up onto the curb. “I’m sorry,” he whispers before closing the car door and rounding the front to the driver’s seat.
I’m flabbergasted as the car engine revs and they pull away.
Together Mae and Trenton can be rude, bullies even, but I’ve never been forcefully uninvited from a scheduled lunch.
Twisting my tongue around in my mouth, I stare after the brake lights as they drive away from me.
It takes a moment, but I finally pick up my dignity and return to the building.
I punch the elevator button and slam the button to close the doors behind me. I let my breathing even out as I ride past the recording floor toward the office suites. Once outside the cramped space, I straighten and walk with purpose to my corner office.
With the door closed calmly behind me, I throw my purse down onto my desk and fall into my swivel chair. Crossing my arms, I shake my head. I’d been disrespected outside by my own client. I stop myself there. I’d been disrespected, yes, but did I stick up for myself?
For years I’ve watched Mae go through the same cycle of submission.
Letting sadness replace my anger, I turn on my computer and bury myself in my work.
The more work I do for Mae, the easier it will be for her to leave Trenton when the time comes.
Will that time ever really come? Maybe. Maybe not.
All I can do is try to get her to a place where her name doesn’t need to be attached to his to be as successful as she is right now.
But isn’t she already at that point? Everyone sees it but her.
Letting out an uncontrolled breath, I begin scrolling through a few emails.
I confirm with a venue about tomorrow night’s show and then relay the information to Trenton’s agent.
When he responds with a “k,” I want to throw a punch.
I’ve been working on the details for months and that’s all he can give me.
I run my fingers through my hair and get frustrated when they catch on the knotted ends.
Pulling them angrily through, I return my gaze to my inbox and see at least a dozen news inquiries.
Knowing I can’t make it through any more of them, my attention turns to my phone.
I dial my dad’s number and wait for his reassuring voice to stimulate my overworked brain.
Unfortunately for me, my dad doesn’t answer so I bury my head in my hands instead.
I can’t even rely on a short missed call message because he doesn’t believe in voicemail.
Knowing I need my headache to go away if I stand any chance of making it through the rest of the day, my fingers move to my temples.
Rubbing gently eases the pain but only until my phone comes to life with vibrations signaling an incoming call.
I feel a smile ignite as I reach for it. It quickly dissipates when I see the caller ID. Immediately drained, I click it off and then toss it into the drawer beside me. I simply do not have the energy for the past right now. I hardly have the energy to deal with the present.
***
It’s nearing midnight when I finally get to leave for my apartment. After an unproblematic solo recording session between Mae and her producer this afternoon, she left for Trenton’s house and I returned to my office to make a few phone calls and to ultimately avoid going home.
I’ve contemplated just spending the night in my office before. It’s just as lonely as home but safer than walking the five blocks alone. Tonight is no different, but the need for a warm shower wins out so I pack up my things and head downstairs to the lobby.
Taking a deep breath, I step out onto the plaza and break into a brisk walk down the street.
It’s a weekday in the dead of summer but Nashville never sleeps so plenty of people are still milling around, either making their way back from Broadway or just getting their night started.
I scoff at my own memories of when life was like that for me.
How naive and untainted I was back then, to be able to smile at a passing bachelorette party or sing along with a street performer just trying to have their 15 seconds of fame.
Now I cringe at those groups of women celebrating marriage in envy and walk straight past the guitar player on the corner.
There’s no room for anything outside of the tall skyscraper behind me.
A buzzing in my pocket alerts me to my phone. I’ve tried to ignore it to the best of my ability but this vibration pattern is familiar. A sense of calm washes over me when I see that my dad is the one calling. Smiling, I pick up and his voice instantly soothes my nerves of walking home alone.