Home (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

Josh

The bar was meant to open in less than ten minutes, and it was not the time for my phone to be ringing. I’d had one too many beers with Brock and my head was buzzing, which I did not need, especially when I had Denny yelling at me for not ordering in more frozen fries.

“We’ve got a whole crate of potatoes, make fresh ones!”

“Do you know how long that will take me! I can’t be slicing up french fries when I have a million other orders to fill!”

“I’ll order some as soon as I’m done with this call, damn it!”

“They won’t get here in time!”

“Then start choppin’!” I hollered over my shoulder before lifting the phone to my ear. “Hello!”

“Hey, honey.”

Rachel’s voice liquefied my insides.

“Hey.” A broad smile lit my lips, and I made a beeline for the stairs. “How’s it going?”

I clomped into our room and perched on the bed, my knee bobbing the second I sat down.

“Good. This place is amazing. I can see the ocean from my room!”

“The ocean? Wow, what’s that like?”

“So beautiful. Josh, I wish you could see it.”

I swallowed, thick emotion clogging my voice. I ran my hand over the unmade bed, missing her with an overwhelming ache. I wanted to ask her how the audition went but couldn’t form the words. What if it went great?

“The audition went real great today,” she chirped.

Closing my eyes, I held my heavy head and nodded.

“He really liked me, and I think he’s going to offer me a contract.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t. A cool breeze from my open window whistled in and curled around my neck. I rubbed at my prickling skin with rough fingers.

“Josh?”

“Yeah,” I croaked.

“You not gonna say anything?”

I swallowed, gripping a handful of the crumpled cotton sheet. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, that you’re happy for me!” Her sweet tenor disappeared.

My lips pursed to the side, my vocal cords protesting.

“Come on, honey, this is my chance. You can’t stay mad at me forever.”

“I’m not mad.” I cleared my throat. “I’m proud. I knew they’d love you.”

“Don’t ruin this for me, please.”

“I ain’t ruining anything. You’re over there, doing what you want.” I flicked my hand in the air before slapping it down on my knee.

“It’d just be real nice if I knew my man was behind me, supporting me.”

“I—I want to. I just…I miss you, baby.”

“I miss you, too.” She sighed.

“If you—” My jaw worked to the side, fear of her answer making me stumble over my question. “If you sign a contract, how long’s it for?”

She paused. Dread seeped through my system. It was an effort to inhale. I dug my elbows into my knees and braced myself.

“Twelve months to start, but more often than not he finds a big producer in that time, so I’d be signing a new contract with them. I really can’t say how long I’ll be gone.”

“Twelve months,” I whispered. That felt like a century. I remember crossing off my ol’ man’s tours of duty. Counting down the days was agony, yet I’d had to do it.

Twelve months.

I ground my teeth together, holding it all in.

“I might be able to come back and visit. I don’t know when, but I’m sure I’d get Thanksgiving off…or maybe Christmas.”

Thanksgiving! That was over five months away!

I clamped my teeth together and reminded myself to breathe.

“Well…” Rachel cleared her throat. “I guess I should let you go open up then.”

“Uh-huh.”

Her sigh was heavy, but short. “Thanks for the riveting conversation. Should I even bother calling you again? I mean, do you even want to know what I’m up to over here?”

“It’s just hard, baby. I didn’t want you to go, and I can’t pretend to be happy about it. I’m proud, but I ain’t happy.”

“That’s fine. Maybe I was asking too much. Have a good night.” Her voice was void of cheer when she hung up. I’d managed to slice her enthusiasm in half, and I felt bad for it, but at least I was honest.

Dropping the phone on my bed, I scrubbed my face and sucked in a slow breath.

“Josh! You up there?” Harriet’s voice pulled me back to earth.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

“Well, hurry it up. I need my bartender. We’re short-staffed as it is!”

I closed my eyes, reality beating me like a bullwhip. We
were
short-staffed, and we were going to stay that way for a good long while if I didn’t do something about it.

Standing up, I snatched my phone and shoved it into my pocket. I didn’t want to think about hiring someone new. The weight of Rachel’s terse farewell sat heavy on my shoulders. She was gone…and maybe Brock was right. Maybe she was never coming back.

How the hell did she expect me to be happy about that?

Chapter Twelve

Rachel

The painful call with Josh really soured my mood. I spent the rest of my day in the hotel, ordering room service and watching movies. I couldn’t even play my guitar. I went to bed on a sugar high, feeling like a whale after all the food I’d stuffed into my face.

On Saturday morning, I woke up with a tummy ache and tried to get rid of it by going for a really long walk. I got lost quicker than I expected, but I did find a postcard, a real pretty one of the sun setting over the Pacific. I bought it and shoved it into my bag, hoping that I’d be able to write something pleasant.

Josh’s words still hurt.

I mean, I guess I understood how he was feeling and it was nice to be missed. I just really wanted him to be happy for me. This whole experience was a dream come true but he was tainting it, and I didn’t think that was fair.

Thanks to a lovely couple, I managed to find my way back to the hotel in one piece. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I ended up playing my guitar and singing until my voice was hoarse. I wasn’t used to having so much time on my hands. It was a luxury that I quickly tired of. When Parker knocked on my hotel door that evening, I stumbled over myself trying to get to it.

“Hi.” I chuckled, flicking a wayward curl over my shoulder.

“Good evening.” He grinned, his brown gaze traveling down my body.

I’d decided to go a little fancy and was wearing the black dress Millie gave me for my birthday. It had thin shoulder straps and kind of flared out ‘round my knees. It made me pretty…at least that’s what Josh said, although he was hardly a reliable source. I could be wearing a trash sack, and he’d think I looked good.

“You are perfect.” Parker’s voice sounded a little in awe, which made me blush…again!

“Thank you,” I murmured, grabbing my purse and following him to the elevator.

We drove, with the top down, to Helium. It was a club on Sunset Boulevard that had a line of people going ‘round the corner. My lips parted as I approached the dazzling purple sign. Gorgeous girls and handsome guys were lined up waiting to go in. Parker led me straight past all of them and murmured something to the bouncer who took us straight through. It was like being a celebrity. A heady giddiness rumbled my insides as I played with the idea that one day I might actually
be
a celebrity! I was on my way!

We climbed the stairs and entered through the big black doors. Behind those was a set of thick purple curtains. A man in a tux pulled the curtain aside, and I gasped as we walked into a plush-looking club. Live music pumped from the stage as a singer with a crew of expert back-up dancers performed. The guy was amazing and so talented. His voice was like chocolate—smooth and creamy. My heart near-melted at the sound.

“This way.” Parker took my hand, laughing at my expression as he led us to a table in the corner.

“This is unreal.” I giggled, squeezing his arm. “So, you’re telling me this is like Aren’s club?”

“Yeah.” Parker nodded. “Really similar. There’s tables dotted throughout and a dance floor at the front, not quite as big as that one.”

He pointed down to the space and I nodded, smiling at the fans who were jumping around on the floor in front of the stage.

“But the stage is a similar set-up. Depending on what Aren thinks is best, and the performances that you guys put together, you’ll get a live band some nights and back-up dancers and singers.”

A thunderous applause filled the room as Mr. Amazing finished.

“Thank you, Helium!” he shouted into the mic, causing a second wave of cheers and applause.

He loped off the stage as the next act teetered on. She was in heels and a flowing gold dress that was stunning. Her tight black curls were teased high and her glossy red lips drew my eye when she smiled. She did a spin, her dress sparkling under the spotlights as she came to stand in front of the microphone. I was entranced. She had a smooth, husky voice that reminded me of KT Tunstall. When she started singing “Suddenly I See,” I hooted with laughter.

Parker gave me quizzical look.

“I was just thinking she sounded like the woman who originally sang this song.”

Parker grinned. “Yeah, she does.”

“This place is so cool.”

He leaned toward me with a twinkle in his eye. “If you ask me, I think Club Liberation’s cooler.” He winked, making me giggle.

I sat back in my chair and soaked it all in—the buzzing crowd, the stage lights, the beautiful costumes. It was all so magical, and then there was the song she was singing. It spoke to me somehow. In that moment I was exactly where I was meant to be, and if Aren was willing to give me a contract, I would most definitely sign it.

*****

“I have a contract for you.” It was the first thing Parker said when I opened my door to him on Monday morning.

I squealed and jumped out of his way to let him in.

He chuckled, sliding the bag off his shoulder and taking a seat at the small table. Pulling out a thick pile of papers, he then placed it on the table and gave it a tap. “Here you go.”

My eyes bulged before I could stop them. “That’s my contract?”

“Yep.” Parker winked. “I spent yesterday afternoon going over it with Aren and making sure you’re getting the best deal possible. It’s pretty standard and exactly the same as the contract that his previous singer signed in February, so as long as you’re happy with it, we can move forward.”

I sat opposite him and flicked my thumb through the pages. “It’s like a book.”

He grinned. “Aren likes to cover all the bases.”

“I can see that.” The stack in front of me must have been at least thirty pages. The writing was small, making the ‘book’ seem like an epic novel. I scratched the side of my neck and tried to smile at Parker.

“Don’t be overwhelmed, I do this for a living. Let me walk you through it.” He shuffled his chair around so he sat closer and lifted the first page. “This is a standard industry contract, and most of it will seem like mumbo-jumbo, but basically what it’s saying is that you agree to let Aren train and prepare you for a recording contract while working at Club Liberation. You’ll perform six nights a week and will be required to practice daily, as well as be available for any marketing and promotional requirements. Aren is obligated to train you and invite producers to watch you perform. If they like what they see, Aren will set you up with an audition and help you with that process.” He pointed at his chest. “I will also be available to help you negotiate any contracts, and I’ll be working to get you auditions, as well. If Aren, or I, can’t secure a label for you within twelve months, then you are free of the contract. However, we’ve never had that happen before.”

My insides were buzzing so fast and strong I could barely hear what he was saying.

He flicked through the pages, briefly going over things, pointing out paragraphs here and there.

“This just says that you’ll take Aren’s advice with performances, song selections, and wardrobe. Think of him like a coach or tutor.” Parker flicked over to the next part. “This is your income.”

My eyebrows rose as I looked at the figure.
Someone pinch me!

“Minus, of course, the housing Aren provides and other necessities, like utilities, clothing for performances, travel, things like that.”

I nodded, still too stunned stupid by the idea of earning close to eighty thousand dollars in a year.

Parker turned the page before I could read more. His finger breezed down the paper. “This is just legal jargon to protect both parties,” he mumbled.

I scanned the paper, trying to absorb the words, but I barely understood the two sentences I read. I was not a
top of the class
kind of gal. Hell, I missed close to a year of school when I was homeless and then recovering. Josh’s uncle made me do twelfth grade at the school just out of town. It was torture, and I barely scraped through with straight Cs. I’m not necessarily proud of that fact. School just wasn’t for me. Music was the only class I did well in and even then, I only got a B, because the teacher had it in for me. Stupid wench.

“Okay, the final page is for you to sign.” Parker pulled a pen from his inside jacket pocket.

I gazed at the fat ballpoint in his fingers.

“Unless you have any questions.”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, it’s hard to understand all the phrasing, but I get most of what you’re saying.”

“It must seem overwhelming, and if you want to keep this for a few days and read it over, you’re more than welcome. Do you have a lawyer you want to show it to?”

“Do I need to do that?” I wound a curl around my pointer finger.

“Well, no, but some people like to.” Parker placed the pen on the table and threaded his hands together, resting them lightly on top of the contract. “This document is here to protect all the parties involved. If you sign it, you’re giving yourself the opportunity to become the singer you deserve to be. When we sign, we are committing to helping you reach that goal. It’s mutually beneficial. If we succeed, then you succeed, and if you succeed, we’re all going to make ourselves some music and some very sweet cash.” His wink and sassy smile settled my nerves. “Trust us, Rachel. We’re going to make your dreams come true.”

“Okay.” I nodded, reaching for the pen.

“Just sign here.” Parker pointed to the page, and I scrawled my John Hancock with a flourish.

He then collected up the pages and knocked them against the desk to straighten them before sliding them into his bag.

“Congratulations, Rachel. I know Aren’s really excited about working with you.”

“Me, too.” An unexpected laugh popped out of me.

“Fantastic.” Parker rose from his seat. “Why don’t you get yourself packed up. I’ll go check you out of the hotel, and we’ll head to your new place.”

“Sounds good.”

He walked out of the room. Once again, I waited for the door to click shut before jumping from my chair with a squeal.

“Mama, I’m on my way!”

I thought about calling Josh right then, but I was worried his silence or cynical remarks might kill my euphoric moment. I’d call him later once I was settled into my new apartment.

Snatching my stuff together, I proceeded to shove it into my bag and then collect my guitar. Ten minutes later I was down in the lobby, just in time to see Parker strolling toward me with a grin. He took my suitcase and ushered me out to his car.

“I asked the hotel to scan the contract for me, so it’s already on its way to Aren. He’ll sign this afternoon and it’s a sealed deal.”

“All right.” I slid into the car and buckled up while he closed my door and walked to his side. “So, where’s my new place?”

“Downtown. We house all our girls there.”

“Your girls?” My nose wrinkled.

He laughed at my scrunched up expression. “In training. Singers who are doing a similar thing to you. It’s just easier for them to be near the club and gives you a sense of family, knowing your neighbors are in a similar boat to you.”

“Aren’t they my competition, though?”

Parker grinned but kept his eyes on the road. His aviator shades took over half his face anyway, so I couldn’t really tell what he was thinking.

“We select our clients very carefully.” He raised his pointer finger. “We only take on those we know we can promote successfully and who have the talent to make it.” He raised his next finger. “We like to have variety in our mix, so while we’re trying for a country-pop label for you, we’re looking for other things for our other clients. Don’t think of it like competition. You’re all there to help each other succeed.”

“I like that.” I nodded with a smile, a thrill buzzing through me. I couldn’t wait to meet the girls.

*****

The drive took some time, thanks to insane traffic, but eventually Parker pulled into an underground parking garage and led me to the elevator. We went up to the fifth floor, and I followed him down a dimly lit corridor. It was a far cry from my swanky beach hotel, but at least it was clean.

Parker stopped outside door 505 and wrestled a key from his pocket. The door was a yellow-white kind of color, and the handle was a little rickety. I didn’t say anything, of course, and my insides didn’t start deflating until I walked into the cramped studio. There was a single bed in the corner, a dusty lamp perched on the floor beside it. A small kitchenette with a two-seater table taking up most of the floor space sat in the corner of the room.

The TV, perched on top of a broken bookshelf, looked like it came straight from the 1980s.

“The bathroom’s through that door.” Parker pointed.

I opened it to find a shower over a bathtub. The sink had yellowy-brown stains around the plug hole and the mirror was scratched. I opened the medicine cabinet and found a few supplies on the narrow white shelves.

“Nice.” I forced out the word.

I caught Parker’s brief smile in the mirror. “I know it’s not the Hilton, but you’re going to be so busy, you won’t be spending much time here anyway. Most of the girls get ready at the club each night. The dressing room’s huge, and there’s always drinks and snacks available.”