Chapter January
JANUARY
CLAUDIA
“All right, Claudia, are you ready to try one?”
Claudia squinted to see into the control booth from the studio.
She nodded at Jay Knox, her new producer, even though her heart was pounding so hard, she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to get out a single word.
Jay was tough, but wildly talented, and he said they’d need to squeeze every ounce of raw emotion out of the song, the way a strongman would extract juice from a lemon.
They’d been working on the song together for weeks, but it was time to record it, which would be done in the presence of a film crew from Behind the Music.
The woman producing the episode, Quinn Jones, sat in the control room with Jay, while the cameraman, whose name Claudia had forgotten already, stood in the corner of the studio.
Quinn wanted to capture the raw emotion the first time Claudia recorded ‘Already Gone.’ She told her to ignore them both, and Claudia wished like hell it was possible. She let out a shaky breath and wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her jeans. “I’m nervous.”
Jay’s voice came over the speaker. “Big deep breath, Claudia. Then sing it exactly how you did yesterday. You’ve already perfected it. My job is to capture the whole thing.”
“All right, let’s give it a whirl.”
It took close to two hours before Claudia managed to find that place she had gone to the day before.
To what Jay referred to as Xanadu. But when she finally got there, she let her voice and her words fill the studio with every ounce of love and pain and sorrow in her heart.
She barely felt her fingers as they moved over the guitar strings, and when the song ended, she didn’t need to wait for Jay to tell her she’d done it.
Instead, she stood up, lifting her guitar up above her head with one hand.
“You nailed it.”
Tears blurred her vision. “Thanks, Jay.”
“You’re most welcome. Shall we give it a listen?”
She hurried into the control booth and flopped onto the couch before remembering to sit up straight.
The camera was still rolling. They listened to the song three times while Jay stopped and talked about what she had done particularly well, and by the end, Claudia was filled with pride.
She finally recorded something that would have her name on it.
She would get all the credit. And the money. It felt amazing.
Looking at her watch, Claudia realized she’d been away from Elliott for nearly five hours. If she hurried, she could nurse him before bedtime, instead of pumping. “I should run.”
“Come back tomorrow. The execs will be here to listen to it, and I’d hate for you to miss what will be a good moment for you.”
Tugging on her jacket, she said, “You sound certain that they’ll like it.”
“That’s because I am.”
“Thanks, Jay. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I’ve been at this since before you were born, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s a real artist. Someone who puts their heart and soul into their work. Real artists don’t need guys like me. We’re just along for the ride.”
His words lifted the heaviness in her heart. Being recognized by someone with his talent and experience made her feel like maybe someday she’d stop feeling like a fraud.
The cameraman started packing up his equipment, and Claudia hurried back to the studio to gather up her guitar and sheet music.
Quinn followed her. “I appreciate you letting us capture the moment. It’s such an incredible story. First you find out you’re having Mike’s baby, and now you’ve recorded this beautiful song for him.”
Smiling, Claudia whispered a quick thank you, feeling twisted up and terrible.
There was no going back. No changing her mind.
The lie was a matter of public record now, having been leaked to US Weekly by someone in the finance department at the record label a few weeks earlier.
Steven and Rusty had been making a big effort to come to her aid, both offering her enormously generous sums of money to get her through until Mike’s estate was settled. Every kindness made her feel worse.
The film crew said their goodbyes, and as soon as they were alone, Jay grinned at Claudia. “Thank God that’s over, right?”
“Yes. Talk about nerve-wracking.”
“You did great.” Opening the door, Jay said, “Can I walk you out?”
“Sure,” Claudia answered, glad she wouldn’t have to walk to her car alone in the dark.
When they got outside, Jay said, “Hey, Claudia, I wanted to say, be careful not to sell yourself short. There are some real predators in this business, and I’ve seen women like you get taken advantage of.”
She chuckled, wishing she’d been given that advice five years ago. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Without looking at her, he said, “That’s already happened, hasn’t it?”
Her cheeks warmed up. “What would make you think that?”
“Every songwriter leaves their own signature—a way of arranging words to tell a story. Yours is personal, emotional, but you hold back just enough to keep it from becoming melodramatic. You use first person. Your songs start quietly and build and build and build to the end. You don’t back off after the chorus like most writers do.
You create suspense and a flurry of emotions that leave the audience with no choice but to rewind and start again. ”
Claudia stopped walking and stared at him, trying to figure out what he was actually trying to say. Did he know? He couldn’t possibly know. “That’s a lot of information to get from one song.”
“I’m not just talking about ‘Already Gone.’ You also wrote the only number one hit The Vows have had in the last decade. But you didn’t get the credit.”
Claudia opened her mouth, then closed it, not knowing if Jay was someone she could trust.
“Your silence speaks volumes,” Jay told her.
“No, I’m… trying to figure out why you’d think that. It’s very kind of you to give me the credit, but I didn’t write that song. You might just think that because I sing half of it.”
“That’s not why.”
They reached Claudia’s car, and she fumbled around in her purse for her keys.
“You ever wonder why The Vows had a span of over a decade without a number one hit? Or why that drought started when Zane and his first wife divorced? Curious, isn’t it?”
Claudia swallowed hard. “Is that so?”
“It is. And the songs Zane is credited for in their earlier years all have the same signature. Unusually poetic for a rock band. Rich in metaphor—often to do with water. The chorus explodes the same way every time,” he said. “Did you ever meet Zane’s first wife? Angela?”
She found her keys and unlocked the door. “No. Never.”
“She’s a poet. She’s published a few books of her work. Lots of water metaphors,” Jay told her, opening her car door for her. “You might want to grab a copy because if I figured it out, it won’t be long before someone like Quinn does too.”
SIENNA
“Hurry up!” Sienna shouted, leaning forward as if those extra few inches would help her voice make it to Ivy’s bedroom.
“I’m not going!”
“You are so!”
Ivy poked her head out of her door. “I hate it there. It’s depressing and weird. And I hate Dad too. He doesn’t deserve to have us on weekends.”
Sienna groaned in frustration. If she was going to drop the girls at Zane’s, then make it to Parker’s judo tournament on time, she had exactly five minutes to get out the door.
The freeway would be clogged with rush hour traffic, so she and Parker might be late, even if they had left already.
Every muscle in her body tensed up the way it did when one of her children’s needs threatened those of another.
Taking a deep breath, she lowered her voice.
“Ivy, please. We’ve talked about this. You can’t come with me because you’ve got too much homework and there’s nowhere quiet to do it at the tournament.
After last night, I’m certainly not leaving you home alone and you’re not ready to look after Poppy for an entire weekend. ”
Ivy folded her arms across her chest. “Of course I am. I’m seventeen. Lots of girls have their own children by now.”
Which was exactly why Ivy wasn’t going to stay home unsupervised. “But Poppy is not your child. She’s your sister who won’t listen to a word you say. If I leave you two alone for two nights, one of you will be dead by the time I get back. And my money’s not on you as the sole survivor.”
Scowling, Ivy said, “Are you serious? You think that little pipsqueak could do anything to me?”
Deciding to give humor a try, she offered her daughter a conspiratorial smile.
“As someone who’s been woken countless times with her standing over me in her nightgown, yes, I do.
She’s terrifying. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
” She glanced at her watch. “Now, quick, pack a bag because we’re leaving in four minutes. ”
“No, it’s not fair to make me go. Parker doesn’t have to.”
“Parker’s got judo,” she said, shifting back to full-on exasperated.
“But you haven’t made him go once, and we’ve had two super-depressing Dad weekends already!”
That’s it. Nice, calm, funny Mom had left the building. Sienna stormed past her daughter to her walk-in closet. She grabbed a carpet bag off a shelf and started filling it with random shirts and socks and underwear. “Parker is not ready to spend time with your father. He’s far too upset with him.”
“I’m far too upset with him too,” Ivy answered, rushing over and taking her shirts out of the bag. “He’s ruining all our lives, not just your precious son’s.”
Sienna grabbed the clothes out of her daughter’s hand, shocking them both. Instead of apologizing, she leaned in. “I might have let you stay alone this weekend if I didn’t know you were planning to invite Xander to sleep over!”
“It wasn’t a plan! It was a… thought,” Ivy yelled, her face turning red. “And you wouldn’t even know about it if stupid Poppy hadn’t invaded my privacy in the worst way possible!”