Rooster’s leaving.
It’s time for me to get down to the nitty-gritty.
“Call me whenever you want to talk.” Rooster grips my shoulders, and stares down at me. “Text me. Any time.”
“I will.”
“You’ve got this,” he assures me.
“Say it again.”
“You’ve got this, baby. I promise.”
I squeeze him so tight, letting him know how much I’m going to miss him.
“Oh! I have something for you.” I pull a small paper bag out of my hoodie pocket.
“You do?” His mouth curves up. “When’d you have time to get me anything?”
I shrug and hand him the small bottle of beard oil. “It’s called Viking’s Long Journey. I thought it seemed appropriate.”
He chuckles and unscrews the cap for a sniff. “I like it.”
I channel my best salesgirl voice. “It’s supposed to have ‘strong masculine notes of oakmoss and pine with a buttery nuance of sensual vanilla’.”
“I’ll think of you every time I butter my beard with it.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Thank you, chickadee.”
I reach up, wrapping my arms around his neck and he lifts me. “I’m going to miss you so much,” I whisper.
“Same. Trust me.” His rumbling voice reassures me we’ll be okay. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Okay.” I slide down his body until my toes hit the ground. “Sounds like Angelina is coming in on Thursday. I hope this works out.”
“It sounds like it will.” He leans down. “One last kiss.”
If it’s the last kiss we’ll share for a while, I’m going to make it memorable. Our lips slide together, slow and soft. I stroke his tongue with mine and he groans. “What are you trying to do to me, chickadee?” he whispers against my lips.
“Make you miss me.”
“Already do.”
I’m in such a black mood as I walk over to Dawson’s studio later. Feels like a good time to work on a song that’s been haunting me for weeks. Flitting in and out of my brain, it’s been hard to capture. But today might finally be the day.
Dawson and Chaser haven’t made their way downstairs to the studio yet. I let myself in with the code Dawson gave me and enter the silent, black room.
Black like my mood.
I flick on a low lamp.
I pull my notebook out and flip to the song I’ve been calling Bird in a Blizzard. My guitar’s ready. I start with an E minor chord.
“Captured in the grip of madness.
I didn’t sign up for this.
One who’s blinded by jealousy.
Can flip your world upside down.
Why didn’t I see?
The winds of crazy
Coming for me?
The storm’s ruffled all my feathers.
I’m blind in this blizzard.
Where to shelter from the weather.
Fix my wounded wings.
Why didn’t I see?
The winds of crazy
Coming for me?
The pain can’t hurt.
If I bury it deep.
You found some creep.
To do your dirty work
The lies are stackin’ up high.
About to tumble to the ground
Why didn’t I see?
The winds of crazy
Coming for me?”
“Damn, girl. That needs to be a single. Right now.”
Startled, I jump and turn to find Dawson in the doorway. He slaps his palm against the wall. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
I set my guitar down. My cheeks burn. I wasn’t quite ready to have anyone hear that yet.
“I’m impressed.” Dawson walks over to his chair and sits.
“Really?”
“Hell yeah.” He strokes his hand over his chin a few times. “It’s about what happened, isn’t it? About Glenna?” he asks gently.
“A little bit.”
“I felt it.” He taps his fist against his stomach. “In here.”
My cheeks burn, but I hold his gaze. “That’s a good sign.”
“It is,” he agrees. “You coulda burned my ass with the story about Glenna and Suggs. Press woulda eaten it up.”
I blink. “That never occurred to me.”
“Figured.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I insist.
He nods slowly, as if he’s made some sort of final decision. “How married are you to the producer you’re working with?” he asks.
It takes me a second to catch up to the jump in conversation. “Not at all. The record company scheduled everything.”
“Whatcha got with them?”
“The record company? I owe them this one record.”
He rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. A heaviness settles in the room.
“I got kicked around a lot early on in my career,” Dawson says. “Had my first deal with a big label but they never released a damn thing I recorded. Wasted a lot of time spinning my wheels.”
Seems to me he’s more than made up for the lost time. “I think I remember reading that.”
He nods, staring straight ahead. “The label’s given me the green light to start my own imprint and I’d like to sign you as my first artist. But first, I gotta untangle you from that Roadhouse contract.”
I blink, not sure I heard him correctly. Maybe I’m still asleep?
“That.” He nods to my open notebook. “Deserves to be heard. Not sittin’ on a shelf somewhere collecting dust. Which I’m afraid is what they’ll do to it based on the amount of support they gave you on the road.”
I’m so green, I never considered that was a possibility. But it makes sense. All they need to do to fulfill their end of the contract is produce the record. They don’t have to release it, promote it or anything else.
Not that I’m full of myself but I feel compelled to point out that I’m a good risk for the label. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t support the album. The tour gave me a lot of exposure. The singles I’ve released have done really well.” I glance down at my lap. “I have people constantly asking when the full-length album’s coming.”
“No doubt, Shelby. Releasing those singles has been good exposure for you. And you’ve managed to build up a fan base. But labels don’t always make logical choices that make sense.” He flicks his hand dismissively. “Industry’s moving toward the singles-driven approach because it’s cheap and low-risk but I still believe you need a full album. It’s hard for fans to get to know you from only listening to a song or two every couple months.”
“That makes sense.” At least I think it does.
“Through my label, you’ll have access to better distribution and I’ll be able to throw a lot of money behind marketing. I’ll have a stake in your success.” He flashes his country boy grin. “Can’t have my first artist fail. Pride thing, ya know.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“I’ll be honest, I’ve been thinking of this for a while now. But I wanted to see how you handled obstacles on the tour. I saw you do the work. You have the drive and fire to go far.”