Heart Beat Page 3

  Billie sighed before conceding. “Then go get her, cowboy. I don’t think I can sit through another audition…”

  I was out of the room before Billie could finish her sentence. Careful not to disrupt the blonde, I opened and closed the door behind me without making a sound. With her eyes closed, the pianist didn’t flinch, continuing to play another beautiful melody.

  Mitchell looked at me with hope in his eyes. It was the first audition I had revealed myself, a sign we’d agreed upon earlier. If we didn’t appear from the soundproof room, it meant we weren’t interested in the musician. Mitchell had dismissed the previous four with a bland line about calling them, which from the looks on their faces, did little to disguise the fact that they knew they weren’t getting the gig.

  Seeing me give the thumbs up brought a smile to Mitchell’s shiny face. The air conditioning on full blast wasn’t enough to remove the constant sheen of sweat on his face. Maybe it was the potbelly he carried around, or maybe the way he combed his hair over in a failed attempt to hide his balding head, but something about Mitchell looked sleazy. He was a walking cliché, the exact image that popped into your mind when you thought of a typical music producer. If I didn’t know of his massive success, I’d never believe he was the real deal.

  But he was. Responsible for over one hundred million albums sold, he had worked on some of the most successful albums in recent history. He knew everyone in the industry and made the impossible happen when everyone else gave up. He was relentless, and just what I needed to make our next album a hit.

  Without a word spoken, we communicated, agreeing the pianist was the one with a simple nod of the head. With his agreement, I began a loud, slow clap. I’d heard enough. I was ready to meet the woman I’d be working with for the next couple of weeks. If the process was anything like my previous albums, I’d be spending a lot of late nights and early mornings in the studio with her. I only hoped we got along well enough for that not to be torture.

  Chapter 5

  SADIE

  MY EYES SHOT open at the disruption, drawing my attention to the man responsible for the clapping. Squinting, I questioned my memory in disbelief at who I was seeing. My imagination ran wild with who I could be auditioning for, but never had it gone so far as to speculate it could be someone I admired so much.

  “Okay, now you’re just showing off,” he said as he walked towards me with a playful smile dancing on his lips.

  While my mind was disturbed by his interruption, my fingers were apparently undeterred. Slightly embarrassed, I stopped playing immediately, offering my hand to him.

  “Sorry, I can get carried away sometimes,” I heard myself say with my hand still extended. “My name is Sadie. Sadie Westaway-Dane.”

  “We’re going to be spending too much time together to be formal,” he pushed my hand aside, inviting himself to the bench as he sat beside me. “My name’s Wyatt, by the way.”

  “I know who you are,” I whispered, unsure if he’d even heard me from the way he continued with his own thoughts. Making a mental note not to call him by his first and last name, a task I knew would be a feat, I struggled to control my breathing.

  I didn’t want to admit how many times I’d listened to Wyatt’s debut album, which was kind of the soundtrack to my high school career. I had all his subsequent albums with his sister, and I’d even got a couple of songs that he collaborated on with other musicians. To say I was a fan was an understatement. I’d been following him online since middle school, when he didn’t have a record deal but would upload covers to YouTube.

  His voice was indescribably angelic, yet masculine and at times moody. He could switch between styles without warning, a skill I’d always admired about him. While some singers had a signature style, Wyatt Hart was known to have several.

  I wasn’t the only person who marveled at his talents, which was indicative of his massive success. Unlike many stars in Tennessee, Wyatt wasn’t a local celebrity. He was a national, if not international, heart throb before he joined forces with his twin sister.

  Their debut album as a duet was more of a pop album than the more thoughtful style I was used to from him. Still, the album went platinum, selling over a million copies, and the subsequent albums had done just as well. My mind wandered back to my walk to the studio, remembering one of the many plaques decorating the stairway.

  It was him, with his dark hair disheveled, framing his handsome face. I’d seen that cover many times, looking into his hazel eyes that even in photographs felt hypnotizing. On the albums, he shared the cover with his sister, who was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. With her matching eyes and the dark hair falling around her shoulders, she was mesmerizing.

  Now in front of me, I could smell patchouli and sandalwood. His smile was genuine, and he had a small faded scar on his chin. Perhaps as the room was so cold from the air conditioning, I could feel the warmth of his body.

  “Sadie, I don’t want to drag this out,” he paused, searching my face for a few seconds that felt like a lifetime. “I think you’re talented, and I want you on this project.”

  I swallowed slowly, unsure of how to respond without saying something silly. “Uh, yes, I would like that.”

  Wyatt’s lips curled slightly, and then he turned, speaking over his shoulder without taking his eyes off me. “Mitchell, did you already tell her about the project?”

  The heavy-set man walked over nervously. “No, I kept the details private like we talked about, but she’s got open availability.” He spoke directly to Wyatt as though I wasn’t there.

  “Is that right, Sadie?” Wyatt asked. “Your schedule is open?”

  “Yes,” I nodded quickly. “Like I told Mitchell, my band recently split, so I’m available.”

  I’d had a short phone call with the producer the day prior, which he said was a screening. I’d told him I could commit without even knowing what the project was. He refused to tell me anything, even if it would require travel or touring, which he said wouldn’t matter unless I impressed the client.

  “This album that we’re working on, tentatively called Heart Beat, a play on our last name,” Wyatt said, “has a lighter feel than the last. You’ll need to be at every session, and this isn’t your typical nine to five.” He paused again, studying me. Under his gaze, my breath quickened. Unsure of what to stay, I remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

  “You’re an artist, so I’m guessing you know how this goes. When inspiration hits, I like to move with it. And that could mean a session at two in the morning, or ten on a Sunday morning. Do you get where I’m going here?”

  “Yes, of course,” I assured him, hoping not to sound desperate. But I was. Without this gig, I had no idea how I would be able to pay my bills. Although the gigs with my band rarely paid, they helped supplement my tips at the restaurant. The piano lessons I taught covered my groceries, but not much more. The last thing I wanted was to ask my parents for help.

  But there weren’t many extra shifts I could pick up at work, and to tell the truth, I didn’t want to. Moving to Nashville was a commitment to my music career. But I couldn’t follow that in a restaurant. I needed to be in studios, on stages, and working with other artists.

  “Are you sure?” Wyatt narrowed his eyes.

  “Yes,” I swallowed, intimidated by the intensity of his glare. “This is exactly what I’ve been looking for. I want to learn and showcase my talent. I’m happy to live in the studio, if that’s what it takes. This is what I want to do.”

  I could feel my chest rising and falling, knowing how much was on the line. I had never been in the presence of anyone as successful or charismatic as Wyatt Hart, and now I had the opportunity to work with him. Being this close, I didn’t want to let the dream slip through my fingers.

  Seemingly unimpressed, Wyatt simply tilted his head, his hazel eyes piercing through me. Biting the corner of his lip, he inhaled deeply before releasing the breath loudly.

  “I’m sold.
Let’s do this.” He turned to Mitchell, who raised two fists energetically before reaching for a folder.

  “All right, Sadie,” he came towards me with a couple of sheets of paper. “Here are the details of the position and what we expect. Please read over them carefully, sign them, and return them.”

  With trembling fingers, I accepted the papers. My eyes scrolled over the section of rules and expectations, drawn to the line of numbers. There was one salary per session, another for reimbursable travel expenses, and the last was a bonus if our collaboration resulted in a completed album. All three were the largest sum I’d ever been offered as a musician.

  Tears stung the corner of my eyes, a feeling of accomplishment I’d never experienced before. Turning away, I pretended to be tucking the paper in my purse while I wiped my eyes as discreetly as possible. This was it – the reason I had moved to Nashville in the first place. Sure, it wasn’t how I had imagined it, but it was a step in the right direction. I was a working musician, and with my new salary, I could even begin paying my parents back for my house.

  “You’ll also need to sign an NDA to ensure the sessions stay private, and a few other legal documents,” Mitchell announced.

  “Yes, of course. I’m fine with that,” I assured him, certain my face revealed my emotion.

  “You two can work all that out later,” Wyatt dismissed Mitchell with a wave. “For now, I trust her. And I’ve got something floating through my head at the moment, and I’d like to start immediately.”

  “Usually, I’d have to insist we handled the business first,” Mitchell said. “But this recording is costing a fortune. If we can salvage any of it with some work, it’s worth the risk.” Mitchell shrugged his shoulders, his smile growing by the second as he backed away, crossing his arms with his eyes trained on me.

  Reaching for a notebook, Wyatt flipped the pages lined with block letters until he found what he was looking for. “Can you pick up with that run you were on? I just need something steady, but not boring.”

  He nodded his head a few times before I touched the keys, so I used his rhythm as a guide, trying to read his mind. When his lips curved upwards at the sound of the piano, I knew I was on to something. For ten long seconds, he simply nodded, his eyes narrowing as if he was searching for something.

  “You don’t know how you’ve changed me,” his voice belted out flawlessly, startling me as he continued to stare straight ahead. After the words, he fell silently without warning. I continued playing, slightly confused. But then, he picked back up. “But I do,” he held the last word through two notes, his eyes closing with focus.

  “Okay, Wyatt, let’s not get carried away,” a woman’s sharp voice disrupted everything. This time my fingers did not continue to play. My eyes shot open, though I hadn’t realized they’d closed.

  “Dammit, Wilhelmina,” Wyatt sighed, turning on the bench. His ass pushed up against my thigh, and I felt a rush of electricity course through me. Shuffling quickly, I scooted a few inches for much needed space. My heart beat like I’d run a marathon, and I knew it had nothing to do with the nerves from the audition.

  Chapter 6

  WYATT

  “DON’T. CALL. ME. That. You know I don’t like that name.” Billie glared at me, but her annoyance had already evaporated. “You’re already jumping into a session? Take it easy,” she huffed, setting her phone down on the piano before extending her hand to Sadie. “I’m Billie, the other half of this group, although my brother didn’t bother to mention me.”

  I looked away, annoyed. I was just getting into the groove of a song that had been playing around in my mind for days. Sometimes, the words danced through my thoughts like a puzzle. During some sessions, it only took minutes for me to arrange them into lyrics, but lately it had been more difficult.

  “I’m Sadie. It’s nice to meet you.” The two shook hands, but I could tell my sister had no intention of playing nice.

  “You know, I wanted to play the piano,” Billie started a story I’d heard a thousand times. “But no one in my family saw me as talented enough for the investment. No one would have been able to take me to the lessons anyway, not with my brother keeping them so busy with his rehearsals and competitions.”

  It was like Billie blamed me for being talented. She was more interested in hanging out with her friends and then trying out as a model, which she made some headway with, but she stopped once they started wanting her to travel on the weekends and miss out on seeing her friends. She drifted from one interest to another before she started dating a record executive who begged me to release an album with her. I agreed as she was my sister and I figured one album wouldn’t hurt, especially with the full backing of the label. However, it was a surprise hit. Four years later and three albums together, Billie and I were stuck with one another.

  As a child, it was true, there was always some performance or practice for me to attend. And thankfully, my parents made my budding career a priority. I had the best teachers and coaches, and a manager before I hit puberty.

  At the time, I didn’t think about how it could affect Billie. I was too focused on music, which was the only thing I ever cared about. It was all so new and fun when I began. Every week, I’d upload a new video to YouTube, and watch the number of viewers and subscribers increase. Initially, I loved it, but it quickly grew out of hand with more supporters than I could respond to.

  Against the advice of my manager, I withdrew, posting the music and nothing more. Engaging with the fans was more like work, while the creation of music came naturally. I didn’t want to be a celebrity, only a musician. My manager claimed the music industry had shifted to a point where the two were synonymous.

  After the success of my debut album, it became apparent that I was not going to play the game like the record label wanted. There would be no daily posts or live streams sharing my day. I didn’t want my fans to know everything about me. I just wanted them to listen to my music.

  That was what made joining forces with Billie so successful. She was brilliant at social media and fan involvement. Every week, she ran giveaways, and before our first album together catapulted her to a new level of success, she would host meet ups with fans throughout the city. She loved meeting them, taking photos and talking about everything from her style to what lipstick line she preferred.

  Not me. I just wanted to write music, record, and perform it for my fans. My personal life was off limits, something even Mitchell had begun giving me a hard time about. Going platinum made the record label pay attention to us, and that meant heavy monitoring. We had a full team now – public relations, social media managers, producers, artist and repertoire representatives, and more.

  And this was when we weren’t on the road. Tours were even more hectic, with so many handlers I couldn’t keep track of them all. At least then, I got the nightly rush that only the stage could bring. Performing for fans was my addiction. Seeing their faces light up as they sang the words to my songs was the greatest accomplishment.

  When I’d first started sharing my work, I thought maybe a few hundred people would hear it. Now, millions downloaded and streamed our songs. It was a dream, but I had never considered what all came with it. Working with my sister had been the gift and curse that kept giving.

  Her impact was undeniable. She was undoubtedly more famous than me. I might have been a better singer and songwriter, but she was a better star. Billie was charismatic and fun where I was closed off and unamused. She laughed at the corny jokes and reveled in the attention our albums had earned us.

  The sound of my name brought me back to the present, where Billie was now standing over Sadie, who looked part confused and part scared. Her blue eyes darkened with what seemed to be fright as she looked to my sister, nodding along. I could tell she was a sweet girl during my interview.

  I could remember that drive, wanting to make it so bad. Sadie was talented, that much was clear. She played better than anyone I’d ever worked with. But I’d never heard of her, w
hich could only mean that she’d had yet to receive any notable success. I wanted to help her, to give her the big break she needed, something every artist desired.

  We both knew that this project was big enough to change her résumé. Being a part of a platinum album was as good as… gold, I guess, in the music industry. It was all about who you worked with and what success you’d had a hand in.

  “Look, I know he’s hot, but that’s not what you’re here for,” Billie said.

  “Billie, what are you talking about?” I interrupted her, feeling my frown crease my forehead. It was something about a pretty girl that always put my sister on the defense when it came to me.

  It didn’t matter how many guys fawned over Billie, I never got involved unless an overly appreciative fan got handsy with her. As far as I was concerned, she was a grown woman who could handle herself without issue. But she never gave me the same courtesy. She treated every woman as though they might have a grand scheme to corrupt me.

  “I know how girls get when they see you,” she explained without looking at me. “Sadie, I think you’ll be great at this job if you can just remember that’s what this is – a job.”

  “Of course,” Sadie nodded again. “I will be nothing but professional. I’m sorry if I’ve given you reason to think anything else.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Billie said. “I just want to keep it that way.”

  “Billie, enough,” I said sternly, standing from the bench. She was being downright rude to the girl. I’d allow her to intimidate women I brought around, which was rare, but Sadie was an employee. The last thing I wanted was for Sadie to think I had a reputation for sleeping with staff.

  “You have your questions and deal breakers, and I have mine.” My sister refused to back down.

  “How about we focus on making music? That’s what’s important,” I reminded her.

  “Are you serious? We just sat through all those auditions. We finally found someone, let’s call that a successful day.” Billie reached for her cell phone, smiling at a notification before tapping on her cell.