Together, we pose for a few photos.
“Give her a congratulations kiss!” the photographer encourages.
He sweeps me into his arms and plants a shameless kiss on my lips.
“Woo! Someone turn on the sprinklers,” a woman shouts.
Laughing, I pull away.
“Proud of you,” Logan whispers in my ear.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Shelby
The Nashville papers are full of news about the awards. Angelina brings a pile of them back to the house. But it’s the next issue of Glow that we’re most excited to get our hands on. That one she brings into the studio.
“Ah-ha!” she announces. “Here we are!”
She frowns as she reads the short piece accompanying the photo.
“Dawson Roads accompanied by rock music royalty—the daughter of Chaser Adams, legendary lead guitarist for Kickstart and the Hollywood Demons.” She scoffs. “Rock music royalty.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s pretty rich coming from the same magazine who disses my dad for writing Candy Jar all the time. Now he’s royalty. Never mind he’s a damn genius and has written songs for like half the people they salivate over.” She tosses the magazine aside. “Jerks.”
As much as she complains about her dad being overbearing, Angelina clearly loves and respects him. She’s also ready to kick some serious ass if anyone talks shit about him.
“Never mind that,” I say, perusing the article myself. “You don’t even get a name. Just ‘daughter of Chaser Adams,’” I point out.
“Well, shoot. You’re right.” She flashes both middle fingers at the magazine. “Double fuck ’ems.”
I continue flipping through the pages. Not that I want to get her more riled, but I’m curious to see if there are any photos of Rooster and me.
“Shelby Morgan and her mysterious white knight,” I read out loud. “Well, don’t feel too bad, Rooster didn’t get a name either.”
“That’s probably good for him. He doesn’t need people trying to track him down.”
Good grief, I hope if Ashley sees this, it doesn’t send her over the edge again.
“Oh!” I bounce in my seat. “Here, listen. ‘Shelby and Dawson’s date are tight-knit friends. Rumor has it, they’ve been spending time in the Dawson Roads’ studio working on Shelby’s next album that will be released on Dawson’s new independent label.’” My shoulders drop. That wasn’t as exciting as I expected. “Still no name for you. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. At least it connects me to the music industry so I don’t look like a hooker Dawson hired for the night.”
“Now, how could you be a hooker when you’re the daughter of a rock legend?”
“You!” She bursts into giggles and throws a pillow at my head. “Oh my God.”
“Rock legend’s daughter falls so far from throne, she turns to escorting country stars to major awards shows,” I announce. “The Angelina Adams Story.”
She laughs even harder. “Stahp it! You’re killing me!”
“Sounds like you’re having a good time in here.” Dawson’s gruff, but amused tone, pops our bubble of fun.
Angelina hands him the magazine. “Page twelve. I don’t even get a name.”
His mouth turns down as he scans the piece. “Sorry, darlin’. You want me to give ’em a call?”
“What? No, I’m kidding, Dawson.” Her lips twitch into a nervous smile.
“We’ll get you named next year.” He rolls the magazine and points it at us. “Bird in a Blizzard just entered the charts at number fifty-five, Shelby.”
“Wait, what?”
“It’s got special placement on all the big streaming sites. Bet it hits number one by next week,” he says with all the confidence in the world.
Angelina and I stare at each other. It’s my song and I came to the studio with a good portion of it written, but she’s credited on it too. Its success is potentially huge for her too.
“Holy shit!” She grabs my hands, yanking me out of my chair so we can jump around in a circle.
“Don’t be mad, Shelby,” Dawson says, “but I passed Logan outside and gave him the news.”
“Why would I be mad?” I stop my frantic happy dance and pluck the magazine out of his hands. “I was saving this to send to my momma.”
“Where we at?” Dawson asks in his let’s get to work voice.
We instantly slip into professional mode and show him the list of tracks we’ve come up with. Dawson offers his opinions and advice but has made it clear all the final decisions are mine. Mine. It’s both exciting and terrifying to have that much control.
“Have you heard from Trent?” Dawson asks. “He coming in to help with the recording?”
Ouch, that’s a sore spot.
Trent’s been touchy since the awards show. He seemed to blame me for White Knight winning an award instead of Big Lies—which would have earned him an award as well. As if I have any control over how the categories are structured or how the winners are chosen. Like I wouldn’t have loved to win both categories for my own selfish reasons?
Other than acknowledging him in my acceptance speech and the royalty split he’s receiving from White Knight, I’m not sure what else he wants.
Once he found out I was writing with Angelina, he stopped answering my texts and emails, and ignored every attempt I made to include him in the process. Dawson tried to arrange studio time for Trent in San Antonio but he blew it off, which was frankly kinda embarrassing.
“I don’t think so,” I finally answer.
Dawson drops into one of the chairs and props his boots up on the desk. “I know you don’t want to hear this but I think it’s time we put out feelers for studio musicians.” His gaze slides to Angelina.
She lifts her hands in a ‘stop right there’ gesture. “My dad’s the guitar genius. I play enough to help me write and I can tap out some scales on the piano but I’m not a professional.” She shoots me a look. “I enjoy the behind-the-scenes writing stuff but I don’t want any piece of the spotlight.” She waggles her fingers toward the door.
“I’ll try reaching out to Trent again.” I don’t want to betray him. He’s been a big part of my musical journey so far, but I also can’t afford to slow down my career to massage his bruised ego.
“You know where I stand on this, Shelby,” Angelina says. “If he’s going to pout and act like a big manbaby because things are coming together for you, then he wasn’t your friend to begin with.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she’s right.
“Ouch.” Dawson whistles.
“Well, it’s true,” Angelina fires back. “He’s not the one who went on Redneck Roadhouse and got raked over the coals. She is. I’m not saying he’s not a talented songwriter or guitar player in his own right but she’s the star.” Angelina rests her hands on her hips and turns toward Dawson. “Did you hire her to be your opening act because you thought Shelby was talented and would bring in a newer, younger audience for you? Or did you do it because Trent was her guitar player?”