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He’s never asked and I’ve appreciated that he never did. But after everything he’s done for me, I owe him an explanation. I close my eyes and nod, gathering my wits again to repeat everything I told Addison. The weight of the words comes out lighter knowing I’m not hurting Graham with them.
As soon as I reach the part where I end up on his porch, he rises and pulls me up into a tight hug. Tears run down my cheek, not sad tears, more like relief tears.
“Thank you for being there, G.” I sniffle into his chest. He pulls back, his eyes glisten, and he grins as he cups my face in his hands.
“Sky, even if you sang like the Cookie Monster, I would have dropped everything to help you.” I chuckle at the image. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It feels good to get it out. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right words, so I buried them with a new life. Max brought everything back.”
“Aww, and now we’re back to Max.” He releases me, leans against his desk and crosses his arms. His spiked eyebrow makes me roll my eyes.
“No. We’re not back to Max. He’s a friend. End of story.”
“Your story is ending in a huge cliffhanger and you know how much I hate those.” He playfully scowls and walks back to his chair.
He’s wrong, it’s more of a happy for now ending. Our story isn’t unresolved, it’s settled. Like oil and water. And they don’t mix.
To move the conversation away from Max, I ask about the article. Graham’s eyes light up as he opens a manila folder on his desk. The article lies on top of other papers. Giddy butterflies tickle my stomach as he reads the article, and I read along with him to myself, already having memorized the entire piece. I might have read it a few times.
The next couple of hours, we go over my schedule for the next week. I’m buzzing with excitement as we talk about meeting with a few songwriters. But first, we meet with our attorney tomorrow to go over the contract.
* * *
Graham squeezes my hand right before we walk into Jude’s office. He could crush it and I wouldn’t notice with the amount of adrenaline running through my body right now. I feel sick. Taking a couple deep breaths, Jude’s assistant opens the door for us and we step into the executive office. Floor to ceiling windows overlooks the city. Platinum and gold records neatly display on one wall with a TV on the other. I glance at a few records and swallow, wondering how I’m even here. These people are greater than great, and I’m… nobody. My stomach tightens and I fight the ill feeling I have. Don’t lose it now, Sydney.
“Sky, please sit down. You’re looking pretty ghostly,” Jude says, pulling out a chair for me.
If only I could go poof and disappear.
“I know it’s overwhelming. But you’ll do amazing. I foresee you having one of those yourself.” Jude points to one of the platinum records. Pinching my lips together, I nod slowly, not accepting his confidence. He laughs at my dim response. “Wait and see. You’ll be the next Taylor Swift.” He swipes his hands in the air like my name’s on a banner.
An unbelieving laugh escapes my lips and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Sorry. I… this is all a little overwhelming.” I push my foot off the floor to spin my chair until I’m at the table, staring at Jude and Graham.
“I understand. But trust me, I’ll get you there.” I nod as he flashes his perfect white veneers. I’d follow that man into a burning house if it leads me to a famous singing career. “Okay, so let me introduce you to Shane Witt.” I glance at the attractive middle-aged man on the couch, one arm stretched out across the back, with an ankle resting over his knee. He eyes me carefully and stands, walking over. “He’s one of our amazing songwriters and we know the pair of you will create magic.”
“Nice to meet you, Sky,” he says, his voice rich and warm, reaching his hand out. I wipe my damp palm down my jeans and slip it into his. An easy smile plays on the corner of his lips. “Don’t worry. I’m with Jude, I’ve heard you sing and you’re amazing. I can’t wait to hear you sing the song I wrote specifically for you.”
My whole body tingles with excitement. Someone wrote a song for me to sing. How is this my life? I squeeze my hands into fists under the table so I don’t get up and dance around.
“I’m ready,” I blurt out. The three guys chuckle. “I mean… whenever you’re ready. Tell me where to go and when.” I lean back, stuffing my hands under my legs to contain my enthusiasm.
Shane leans against the wall, glances at Jude and then back to me. “We can start tonight.”
“That’s perfect.” Jude claps, standing up. “The quicker we can cut a single to get your name out, the better.”
The next hour Jude discusses timelines and the ins and outs of recording. Thank god Graham is here because by the time the meeting finishes, I only remember bits and pieces of it.
* * *
“So Sky, tell me a little about yourself,” Shane says, sitting across from me. It surprised me when he told me to meet him at his house, but Graham reassured me it’s normal practice that a songwriter has a studio in his home.
I stare at the white wine in my glass for a moment. “I’m a southern girl trying to make it in a singer’s world.”
He smiles, staring at me. My gaze darts around his modern home. Silvers and whites set the tone, the only color in a framed piece of artwork above the fireplace mantle. “Don’t be nervous.” He gets up, stands in front of me with the wine bottle in his hand. “Like some more?”
I pull back my glass. “No, I’m good. The last thing I need to do is drink my nerves away. But thank you.” He nods, placing the bottle on the table and sits beside me on the couch. My leg is bent and tucked under my other leg. I pull it out from under me to give him more room, but he grabs my knee and squeezes.
“I want you to be comfortable around me. We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
