Chapter 23
Raleigh
“AND YOU’RE HAPPY with this?” I ask Mae as the final cut of her new song finishes playing over the room’s speaker. The band had been mostly silent listening, their original cut completely taken over by a snap track and drums.
“Of course I’m happy with it,” she snaps, hardly looking up from her phone.
Her bandmates are all whispering about their disappointments amongst each other.
Though Mae doesn’t seem to be concerned about the negativity, her face does soften when she sees her fiddle player’s confusion.
“It’s going to be a crossover. We knew that from the start. ”
“You can’t even hear me in there,” Theresa says timidly.
“It’s just one song,” Mae answers exasperated. “You can have all the freedom you want with it on tour.” Theresa just nods and steps back as if she were in a soldier’s lineup.
Knowing Mae is overwhelmed and feeling the pressures of the studio, I rest a gentle hand on her arm. “Do you want to talk about this somewhere in private?” Her icy eyes climb up from her device.
“No, I’m good with it. If it’ll sell more tickets then that’s what we need to do.
” She shrugs off my touch and answers her now ringing phone.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m done. I’m on my way out.
” Holding the phone to her ear, she saunters toward the door.
Pausing only briefly to think about her actions, she bursts through the doors and straight into the arms of her fiancé.
I crane my neck to see if Dalton has accompanied; he has.
Thankfully he’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t be intoxicated by his eyes.
The moment the door closes, Mae’s band is all over me. “You’ve got to do something about this,” Robert says with his arms crossed.
“He’s never been good for her, and now they’re going to be sewn at the hip on the road?” Theresa scoffs. “That’s going to be hell for everyone involved.”
“Forget the personal drama, what the heck is this new direction with the music, Raleigh?” At Joe’s inquiry, the whole band looks to me. I wish I had anything to offer them.
“It’s what the label wants.” I sigh. “We’re making a snippet public tonight—”
“The fans are going to hate it,” Robert pipes in again.
“We don’t know that,” Lyle, Mae’s soft spoken backing vocalist, chimes in.
“Even if they do, the label won’t back down until they see streaming and radio numbers,” I counter.
“I’m not here to play that kind of music,” Theresa pipes in. “But I am here for Mae.”
“You’re not the only one worried about her,” I say, reaching out a hand. Theresa is not one to show affection but she takes my white flag anyway. She pulls me forward and we join in on the huddle that Mae missed out on.
“Buckle up, friends,” Robert begins. “This tour isn’t going to be a walk in the park like those previous.”
***
My walk home is filled with nothing but thoughts of how to handle all the moving pieces in my life.
Mae has been acting like a spoiled A-lister who only listens to her sly and unlikable fiancé.
I kept the belief that it had been his idea for a crossover hit close to my belt because I—we—can’t afford to lose a musician at this point.
The tour is days away, Dalton and I haven’t spoken, Grant is getting married, and it’s just all too much.
Reaching my apartment before the sun has even begun to set, I bask in the calmness here.
Everything I own is exactly where I’ve put it, nothing disobeys or confuses, it just exists in my own perfect world.
Hanging my purse on the wall, I head to the kitchen and put on an old Emmy Tenny record.
I was always inspired by the woman’s story.
The familiarity in the lyrics quickly turns to anxiety as I think about how she was one of the first things Mae and I bonded over when I was hired.
Highs and lows are most definitely a part of the industry, but I must say this low is overstaying its welcome.
I check my phone for any updates, and sure enough, the official song has been sent to my inbox.
I flinch as it starts playing automatically.
“Country Like Me” was a frilly little song that Mae wrote while in a writing session with Trenton and his co-writers.
With the original fiddle and banjo flair, it was a harmless take on how Mae sees herself in Nashville, but with the flashy production, it comes off as douchey and a bit hypocritical.
I cringe the entire time I spend on syncing the music with the new post. I know for a fact this is going to alienate a lot of listeners.
My finger hovers above the schedule button.
I hate everything about this, but I’ve been tasked with it.
Trenton’s team has scheduled theirs at the same time so there’s no turning back.
With a big huff, I hit the button and toss the phone aside.
If I’m going to be looking at these comments all night, I’m going to need a bit of liquid courage.