Chapter 17 #2
I motion down at myself. “Me. With my big pregnant belly. On the cusp of this sea change, with the promise of Bean right there, about to be born, just like this new sound is being born. And I…” I shake my head.
“I just want her there with me, on the first album that I wrote all by myself. Even if it flops, I know that it will always be precious to me. And someday, I’ll tell her the story of how it all happened, and maybe she’ll think it’s cool that we’re on the cover together.
Her and her mom, who refused to follow stupid rules or play stupid games.
Maybe she’ll take that as proof that she doesn’t have to compromise or play small, either.
And that will be part of the legacy that I leave for my daughter. ”
Blue goes still again, but not angry still or “what the fuck did that man say?” still. This stillness is grounded, and he’s back to sounding like the Zen master I know as he whispers, “Yeah. That. All of that. Our daughter is going to be so proud that you’re her mom. I know I am.”
I press my lips together and lock my jaw, afraid I’m going to ugly cry if I don’t.
Because this is what I wanted. This is what I was hoping for: that Blue would reflect back to me what seems so clear. That he would understand why I can’t compromise on how this album heads out into the world, not even a little bit.
My friends at happy hour didn’t get it, not really, I could tell.
I’m not sure even Charlotte and Baylor will understand.
They love me and are excited about the baby, but they’re not artists or parents, let alone both.
I don’t know if they’ll understand how all the acts of creation taking place inside of me are so intertwined that I couldn’t separate them if I tried.
But Blue gets it, gets me, a fact he proves by reaching over to take my hand. “I’m glad you stood your ground. You clearly know exactly what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. Just let me know how I can help.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, still fighting tears. “That means so much to me. Really.”
“Anything I can give,” he says, a promise I know he’ll keep. “Seriously.”
“Well, since you’re offering…” I pull my hand away and reclaim my fork, knowing there’s no way I’ll be able to keep the sniffly feelings at bay if I keep touching him.
And I don’t have time for sniffling.
I have planning—and eating—to do. My stomach is already growling again, insisting it hasn’t had nearly enough Pad Thai. There’s an ungodly amount of work ahead, and my body demands fuel.
“You launched indie albums before it was even close to easy,” I continue as we return to our meals.
“I know things are different now, but I’d love to hear how you did it.
How you built awareness, momentum, fan engagement, all that kind of stuff.
I’m sure there are some lessons there for me, if you’d be up for sharing them. ”
He looks uncomfortable, the way he always does when his former life pops up in conversation.
But for the first time, he doesn’t immediately brush me off or change the subject.
“I’m not sure how useful my experience will be.
Like you said, it was a long time ago. Things have changed so much in the past few years, let alone the past decade, but…
” He studies his plate, skewering a carrot, then a piece of broccoli.
“But like you, I didn’t start from scratch.
There was already some infrastructure and brand awareness in place.
By the time I recorded my first solo album, I’d been touring with a kids’ group for years. ”
“Really?” I ask, fascinated. “Which one? I might have heard of it.”
He exhales a laugh. “Doubt it. The Karma Kids weren’t exactly a household name.”
“The Karma Kids.” I wince, grinning as I tease, “Ouch. That’s bad.”
“Awful,” he agrees. “But yeah, we toured every summer, hitting every festival and farmers’ market we could get to in our old bus.
We’d perform, then sell CDs and collect email addresses on clipboards.
” He stabs another bite. “Though the emails were basically pointless. We didn’t have a newsletter until six or seven years after we started gathering them. I set it up myself when I was twelve.”
My jaw drops. “What? Seriously? At twelve?”
He shrugs. “Don’t be too impressed. It was just an excuse to get more time in the computer room. But the newsletter ended up being one of the best tools for driving pre-order sales.”
“Wow,” I murmur. “So, who was managing you during all that? Your parents?”
“The commune’s leader. Daveed.” The name lifts the hair on my arms for some reason, even though Blue’s calm tone doesn’t shift as he adds, “He’s the one who decided I would go solo.
He had connections in the yoga music community, who seemed happy to help him out once he had something more marketable than a kids’ group.
I didn’t see much of what went on behind the scenes, just how fast the email list was growing and the increased hits to the website.
Daveed wasn’t a tech guy, but he had a firm handle on everything else. ”
“A firm handle,” I echo. “Is that why you quit performing as soon as you left the commune? Because you were tired of being handled so firmly?”
He grunts. “Something like that.”
I want to ask more. I want to ask if this Daveed guy hurt him in addition to exploiting his youth and talent. I want to offer to hunt him down and rip his throat out with my teeth if he did.
But that’s not a conversation one has over dinner in public. And it’s not one Blue’s ready for. If he were, he wouldn’t be stabbing snow peas and avoiding eye contact like it’s his job.
So, I settle for saying, “Well, good for you. Screw being handled. But that was helpful. Thank you. I don’t have a newsletter. We had one for the band, but I need to start one for my solo stuff. ASAP.”
“I can help,” he says. “They’re easy to set up these days.
Way easier than when I was twelve. And you have a massive social media following.
If we can get even half of them to sign up, you’ll have a direct line to your most engaged fans and be able to drive streaming and download traffic on your own. ”
I nibble my bottom lip. “But I’ve been terrible about keeping up with social media lately.
I’ve barely posted anything since the band broke up.
I went hard for the first solo track, but then…
” I sigh. “Well, then, I saw how many people were sticking up for Kai in the comments. It wasn’t a ton, but it still made me so sad.
So, I slunk away to hide and pretend the internet doesn’t exist.”
Archer frowns. “Seriously? What’s wrong with people? He’s a criminal. The news coverage made that clear.”
“People don’t care about news coverage. Or facts.” I shrug. “And his lawyer got him a plea deal, so he’s not a criminal. Not technically, anyway.”
“He should be,” Blue says, his voice cold. “But fuck him and them. Those people don’t deserve your new music. You’ll move on with the people who do and block the assholes. I’ll block them for you. You can put me in charge of keeping order in the comments so you can concentrate on what’s important.”
My throat tightens, and the back of my eyes start to sting again.
This man. He’s so good to me. So kind and gentle and real. So obviously the man I should hold on tight to and never let go. Only an idiot would keep fighting this, and I’m not an idiot.
But there’s one important thing we need to clear up before we take a single step down this road…
“Because you want to protect me,” I murmur.
He nods. “Yes.”
“Good. I like it when you want to protect me from the internet. A lot more than when you try to protect me from you. Don’t do that again, okay?”
His brow furrows. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Good,” I whisper. “But I think I understand why you did. I didn’t before. I couldn’t believe a man like you seriously thought he wouldn’t be a good influence on a child. I thought you were just making excuses to push me away, but now…” I lean in. “That commune…it wasn’t a good place, was it?”
After a beat of hesitation, he shakes his head.
“So, it’s not just that you had a falling out with your dad.
It’s that you were raised in a creepy cult by a bunch of jerks who hurt you and made you think you might not know how to be a good father.
Is that it?” My throat tightens as he nods again, an even smaller, tighter nod.
The confirmation breaks my heart, making my voice tremble as I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me? ”
“I tried in the texts I sent, I just…” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to make it about me.”
“It’s okay to make it about you, Archer. Sometimes it should be about you. Sometimes it has to be, so I can understand how to give you what you need.” I pull in a breath, tears filling my eyes as I add, “Love isn’t a one-way street, you know. And I’m a giver, too. Not just a taker.”
His expression lifts, hope creeping in to soften every muscle. “Yeah?”
I nod, still fighting tears. “Yeah. I love you, dummy. I have for a long time.”
“I’ve loved you since that night at karaoke,” he says, making my heart ache in the best way.
“I didn’t think love could happen that fast, but then…
there you were. The most amazing person I’d ever met.
I’m sorry I fought it for so long. I still had work to do, and I just…
I thought you deserved better. That you deserved a man who was normal and knew how to be in a healthy relationship. ”
I exhale a rush of breath as I roll my eyes. “Like, I know how to do that? I mean, seriously. The only man I’ve ever loved was a sociopath. I have no idea how to do this. I’ll probably make tons of mistakes.”
He reaches under the table, hooking his hands around the back of my knees. “Then, we’ll make mistakes together. I’d rather make mistakes with you than do anything with anyone else.”
I laugh, even as I begin to tingle, keenly aware of his fingertips pressing into the sensitive skin at the top of my calves. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Even go to Disneyland?”
He arches a brow. “Do I seem like a man who would enjoy Disneyland?”
I laugh again as I shake my head. “No, you’d hate it. You’d rather be on a trail in the mountains, nothing but you and the sky, and nobody else around.”
“Nobody but you,” he whispers.
I sigh. “Want to go home? Now? With me? To my bed?”
He nods. “Yes. Yes, I do.”