Chapter 9 Hunter
HUNTER
After I dropped Seraphina and Tyler off at their house, I headed back to Wes and Margaret’s. I’d gotten a text from Ivy just as we got off the boat saying she’d landed in San Francisco and was renting a car to head to Willet Cove, with estimated arrival time of four in the afternoon.
I showered and put on a fresh shirt and pair of jeans, then tidied my cottage. I’d been up late the night before because another song had come to me. At a quarter past four, I heard a car pulling into the driveway. I hurried out the door to greet my oldest and dearest friend.
She pulled up in a luxury SUV rental, bursting from the driver’s side like a coiled spring, wearing a sundress, brown cowgirl boots with a matching hat, her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders.
She’d always been gorgeous, but, since the label had hired a stylist to perfect her image, she was absolutely stunning.
It was no wonder people couldn’t get enough of her.
She let out a wallop when she saw me crossing the yard, and took off running, flinging herself into my arms. We hugged tightly for a second, before she disentangled herself from me, stepping back and yanking off her hat to take a good look at my face. “Well, you look no worse for wear.”
“You sure about that?”
“It’s good to see you,” Ivy said. “I’ve been missing you like crazy.”
“Same,” I said.
“You okay, though? For real?” Ivy asked.
“I’m doing okay, yeah. Lots to tell you.”
“Yeah, I’ve got some things to tell you too.”
Wes and Margaret had come out from the house to greet Ivy. There were hugs. Margaret asked Ivy if she was eating enough now that she was a star because she looked awfully thin.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ivy said. “I’ve been working out with a trainer and eating nothing but grilled chicken and broccoli. It’s awful. They’re fried chicken haters, you know?”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll keep you well fed while you’re here. How long can you stay?” Margaret asked, looping her arm into Ivy’s as we all headed to the big house.
“Depends on a few things,” Ivy said. “As a matter of fact, I need y’all’s advice.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Margaret said.
“My wife loves nothing more than telling the rest of us what to do,” Wes said, his fondness for his wife evident in his warm tone.
A few minutes later, we were settled in the kitchen. Margaret had put out some cheese and crackers and poured glasses of tea.
“Tell us everything,” Margaret said.
“The North American tour is done,” Ivy said. “It was fun, but I’m exhausted. Traveling week after week can start to wear a body down.”
“You need time to rest up,” Margaret said. “You can’t bleed a dry turnip.”
“True enough,” Ivy said. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks, which is why I was desperate to come see y’all.”
“What’s going on?” Wes asked.
“As I mentioned, I didn’t renew my contract with the label.
I’d finally had enough. They wanted me to put out an album with more of a pop feel to it, which I have no intention of doing.
Then I got into a fuss with Bobby over it.
I fired him. Or he quit, depending on who’s telling the story.
And then there’s been all this Dana nonsense. ”
“I’m sorry about all of that,” I said.
Ivy touched my shoulder, shaking her head. “Not your fault.”
“What happened with Bobby?” Margaret asked.
Bobby had been her manager for the last three years. I’d never liked the guy, but kept my mouth shut. It was not a good idea to tell Ivy what to do or how to do it.
“He was treating me like a little girl. They all were. Like they knew more about how to be Ivy James than I did. You know how it is. Honey this. And sweetheart that. And Ivy calm down, little darlin’.”
“Oh no, not that,” Margaret said.
Wes and I exchanged a humored look. Neither one of us were stupid enough to tell either of the women in the room to calm down.
“I know, right?” Ivy asked. “When I told my mama about Bobby, I figured she’d give me a stern talking to. Instead, she was like, ‘Ivy, you don’t need these overgrown boys telling you what to do. You’re Ivy flippin’ James.’ You know my mama never curses, so for her to say flippin’ said it all.”
I laughed. “Your mama’s scary. With or without curse words.”
Ivy nodded, smiling. “Yeah, she’s the best.”
“How’s the rest of the family?” I asked. Ivy had four brothers. Every one of them a character and a half.
“The boys are a handful as always,” Ivy said. “But everyone’s good. Mama says hi by the way. Wants to know when you’re coming for a visit. She wants to show you the house I bought her and Daddy. They’re awfully proud of it.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, meaning it.
“What’re you going to do?” I asked. “Do you have another label in mind?”
“That’s why I’m here. I mean, besides wanting to see y’all.
I have an idea.” Ivy’s blue eyes sparkled.
“Wes, I think we should produce an album ourselves. You have the equipment. You’re a legend.
And that way we control everything. We can put out the exact album we want to, and we make a butt load of money doing it instead of giving away most of it to the label.
They’ve treated me like a pretty little girl they can dress up and use as a puppet.
I’m done with it and ready to take back my power.
” She turned toward me. “We can spend some time together writing while I’m here.
Between the three of us, we know all the best session musicians.
We’ll fly them out. Do the whole thing right here. ”
“I don’t know. I’ve been out of the game a long time,” Wes said.
“But you have that gorgeous studio just ten steps from where we are right now,” Ivy said. “We have everything we need.”
Wes and Margaret glanced at each other.
“He’s supposed to be retired,” Margaret said. “Taking it easy.”
“Are you enjoying retirement?” Ivy asked. “Because if you are and don’t want to do it with me, it’s no problem. I can find someone else. But I’m telling y’all right now. I’m doing this my way from now on.”
“Good for you,” I said. “And I’m in.”
“We can start with that incredible song you just sent me,” Ivy said.
“I should probably think this through,” Wes said. “But I’m not going to. I’m in too.”
“I’ll make more tea,” Margaret said.
Wes’s studio occupied the entire basement of the house, accessible through a door off the kitchen that led down a flight of stairs.
The control room was separated from the live room by a wide pane of glass, the vintage SSL 9000 console running the length of one wall.
Wes had bought it in 1994, and maintained it with the devotion other men gave to classic cars.
In Nashville, studios paid fortunes to get their hands on boards like his.
Above it, the current generation of Genelec monitors flanked the glass, the one concession Wes had made to updating the room.
Ivy stopped in the doorway and looked around. “Lord, Wes, this is unbelievable.”
“It should do the trick,” Wes said, already settling into the engineer’s chair.
He pulled it forward and reached for the mouse, pulling up the session file from the week before with my demo of just two tracks, vocal and guitar.
“I say we record it with just the guitar and Ivy’s voice.
My gut’s telling me it could be a great single.
Something we could release soon. Get everyone hyped up for the new album. ”
“I haven’t done an acoustic song in forever,” Ivy said. “I love the idea.”
“Yep, just voice and guitar. No production. No strings, no pedal steel, nothing.” Wes turned to face us. “I think it’s more powerful this way.”
I reached for my guitar. “Georgia and I are ready.”
“The label would hate the idea, which makes me love it even more.” Ivy looked at the monitors, then at Wes, then back at me. “Let’s do this thing.”
“We’ll need to get the mic placement right,” Wes said, already turning back to the console.
“I’m thinking the Neumann U87 about eighteen inches out, angled slightly down toward the sound-hole.
Maybe a room mic in the corner to catch the natural reverb.
” He was pulling up settings now, completely engaged.
“We’ll do six or seven takes and comp the best one. Won’t take more than a couple hours.”
And just like that, we were in business.
Wes disappeared into the live room to check the mic stands, leaving Ivy and me alone in the control room.
“I’ve been thinking about you and Dana,” Ivy said, perched on a stool. “And feeling guilty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I should have been less selfish. Made sure she got a crack at all the best material. I mean, maybe Dana’s right.
Your marriage breaking up was my fault.” She put her hand up to silence whatever retort I was about to utter.
“If I’d known how manipulative the studio execs were, I’d have done something to help.
Instead, I was solely focused on my own career. ”
“I disagree completely. You paid your dues for a long time. It was your turn. The success you’ve had was and is well-deserved.
” I picked up Georgia and sat across from her.
“The stuff between Dana and me was complicated. The more she saw your career rising, the more jealous she became. It consumed her. That’s the truth.
Which is on her, not you. But as far as my marriage goes?
We had a lot of problems that had nothing to do with you.
Dana cared about fame more than she cared about me.
I mean, no one can blame you for her cheating on me, for example. ”
“I don’t know. You and I have always been so close. Maybe I should’ve backed off our friendship.”
“No, that’s not right. We’ve been like family for fifteen years. Anyway, without you, I would be nowhere. You sang my songs into hits and made me some really good money while doing it. This thing with Dana and me was doomed from the beginning. I can see that now.”