“What about you, Bay?” Piper skimmed her hand across the water. “I’m thinking you don’t have many regrets given where you are.” She gestured to everything around me without any idea of how this question rolled through my head like a freight train.
“What would you be doing if you weren’t ‘Bay’?” She added extra sparkle to my name.
Wade saved me by announcing that dinner was served, but the question sat with me through the laughter-filled meal. Keyton’s surprise turned out to be one of the newest blockbusters still in theaters. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but a man showed up with a case under lock and key, worked his magic in the home theatre and before long the Dolby Surround Sound was rattling us all to our bones. It had been so long since I’d sat in a theater with my friends, eating boxes of theater candy, scarfing down popcorn and Cherry Coke. The movies was followed by collapsing out on the softest couch in the world in a junk food coma.
Piper and Felicia were asleep on the wrap-around couch wide enough to be a double bed.
I grabbed some blankets from the basket beside the TV and draped them over two of the best friends I had in the world.
My life was everything eighteen-year-old me could have dreamt of, but the things I loved—they’d changed right along with who I loved. The choices I had to make now would determine whether I looked back on moments like these as distant memories or just one of a long string stretching out over years until we were all gray and no longer able to comfortably pass out on the couch.
The question didn’t leave me and demanded an answer. I just didn’t know if I was strong enough to do it.
30
Bay
I walked into Maddy’s office feeling like I’d been summoned to the principal. The room had a casual ambiance. Candles flickered, and low instrumental covers of artists she worked with were barely audible in the background. It felt more like a recording studio than a stuffy executive office.
But Maddy wasn’t your typical power executive. She hugged me.
With her heels on, we were almost eye to eye. “How are you doing? I still can’t believe what happened last week.” She squeezed my arm and hugged me one more time. “Take a seat.”
Walking to her bar set up, she poured me a glass of champagne and one for herself. I could swear she had it on tap.
Even though I had at least half a foot on her without the heels, Maddy always intimidated me with her drive and ability to walk out of any room with whatever she wanted.
The edges had been smoothed out over the years, but she hadn’t become the success she was now by letting things slide and not paying exacting attention to detail.
“What are we celebrating?”
“You didn’t see the Grammy nominations?”
“Those were today?” Holden usually texted me with news like that. Where the hell was he? The disappearing acts he was pulling were getting more frequent. Anytime I tried to talk with him about it he ducked and dodged like a heavyweight boxing champion. “No, I hadn’t seen.” I set my glass on the table between the two comfortable black leather chairs and ran my clammy hands over my legs.
She took a sip of her glass and the twinkle in her eye dimmed. Her gaze leveled at me. “Three for you. Two for Without Grey. It’s a great day!”
“Wow.” I slumped back in the chair taking a sip from my glass. No matter how many albums I sold, I always felt like I was waiting for everyone to come to their senses and tell me it was all trash, to pick apart the lyrics and figure out I was a hack. I kept being proven wrong, and I still didn’t know how I felt about it. Sometimes I thought I was just excellent at bullshitting my way through it all for a little while longer. The bubbles of the champagne tickled my nose.
“Try not to sound so happy about it.” She sipped from her glass. “It’s also perfect timing for the contract renegotiations. You’re almost done with your third album. Nexus Records wants to talk about the next five!”
“Five?” It came out as a squeak.
“I told them not on my life was I wrapping you up in something more than three. But we also have Mixtape Records and Artistra interested, so I think we can get them off the five-album focus. We’re also going to get an even better deal on streaming options, since I missed that last time around.”
“My next three albums will take a lot longer to record. The first three—hell, even this one—were easier since I had so many older songs written.” I’d fully plumbed the depths of heartbreak, betrayal, loss, hope, fear, and joy mined from my life before this life. Did I even have any real, true experiences left? A light shone through the worry. Keyton. He was real. But forcing myself to write about us felt wrong.
This wasn’t why I wanted to be with him. Not for more material for my albums. Lying beside him with his arms wrapped around me, I didn’t ever want to move. Even sitting with him in silence made my heart race. I knew what it felt like to be the center of his world, too—a world that would be ripped apart when I flew thousands of miles away.
“What about the song you did for…” She rummaged around on her desk finding a piece of paper. “Spencer? Holden sent it to me a couple weeks ago and it’s Top-100-ready right now. Some of your best work. Are you sure you want to give it to him?” Her eyebrows dipped with skepticism.
The song for Spencer had been easier knowing I wouldn’t be the one singing it. My well wasn’t dry, but it was drying up for songs I want to perform.
“I can tell by how you’re jumping for joy that you’re ready to have me pull out all the numbers and talk negotiation strategy.” Her glass scraped against the desk.
“It’s not that. I’m…I don’t know, Maddy.” Even saying that felt scary. Monster-in-the-closet-when-you’re-five scary. This was a looming unknown that could throw my entire life and the lives of all the people closest to me—who depended on me—into absolute chaos.
“You need a break.” She sat back in her seat.
I froze and shot forward in my seat. “Do you have my rooms bugged or something?”
Standing, her smirk deepened. “That’s a look I’ve seen before. The way you walked in here like your battery was inching closer to empty. After the attack, I can’t blame you for wanting to take time off.”
“What would it take to make that happen?” I couldn’t decide now. The ground was shifting under my feet, so many changes happening all at once and not enough time to think it all through. Not enough time to be sure I was making the right choice. Maybe I should hold off until the tour finished and Keyton and I could see how we fared. My gut clenched at imagining a life where we were both always on the road, never truly able to find a place we could call home outside of each other’s arms for another half decade or more.
She spun in her chair, facing her computer. “I can hold off on the negotiations for a few weeks. But once the numbers come in for this tour, whoever we sign with will want to make an announcement. After that, once things cool off it’s harder to pick up the talks with the upper hand. Then there’s determining touring schedules. We like to set up tours at least 18 months in advance. We need to book all the tech staff, roadies, back-up dancers, back-up singers. You know what goes into pulling it all off.”