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  “Sadie, are you free to work now?” I asked, realizing my sister would be no help.

  “Yes, I can begin today. No problem.”

  I could see the tension on Sadie’s face, and instantly felt bad for her. It must have been a whirlwind audition with a rude client and overzealous producer. I could only imagine what she thought of me. I hoped I didn’t intimidate her too much with my grilling. It was most important to me that she could be available when I needed her.

  The album production had been delayed twice already. We’d moved to Nashville with the hopes of wrapping things up in a few weeks, but we had yet to record much of anything, just a few demos. I hated the unproductivity of it, wasting time and money that would later come out of our checks.

  “I don’t want a full session today. I just have this melody dancing in my head,” I tried to explain as I sat beside Sadie on the bench.

  “I completely understand,” she smiled. It was the first time I’d seen her look even remotely relaxed. She was beautiful, young, and effortlessly sexy. Feeling myself harden, I sat up straight, reaching for my notebook of lyrics.

  It was one of the earliest tricks I’d learned, to keep a notebook on me at all times, because you never knew when inspiration would strike. Even if it was only a few words or a name, I would jot it down and come back to it later.

  “Do I need to be here for this?” Billie asked with the irritated tone that let me know she had other plans. “I seriously thought we were only going to hire someone. I told Brad I could meet him for an early dinner.”

  “It’s fine, Billie,” I answered without looking at her while still searching my notes. I’d learned to work with – or without – my sister long ago. It was easier to bring her in when the work was finished, anyway. I could give her the parts she was to sing and be done with it.

  Beside Sadie, I felt myself growing excited about music for the first time in a long time. Showing her the lyrics, I watched her cute little nose scrunch as she digested the lyrics.

  “I think I have something for that,” she said bashfully.

  Her fingers danced across the keys and she started pulling a tune out of the air.

  It felt like the start of something. I only hoped there would be a finished album on the other side.

  Chapter 7

  SADIE

  “WYATT, BEFORE YOU go any further,” Mitchell said, ignoring me and breaking the spell between Wyatt and me.

  Before I could begin creating a tune I felt was perfect for the vibe of Wyatt’s lyrics, Mitchell disrupted us. Between him and Billie, I wondered how they ever got any work done. A quick thought passed through my mind, wondering if their previous pianist had quit for such reasons. It must be draining to create in such a chaotic environment.

  Both Mitchell and Billie were extremely bold, regarding no one’s feelings when it came to their own. Mitchell had all but noted that they were wasting too much money on studio time without seeing a return in completed music.

  Mitchell’s excitement when Wyatt had chosen to hire me provided the only smile I’d seen from him, and I felt like it was more because the album was back on track to completion. He struck me as the type who only cared about the dollar signs, which made me doubt he was a musician.

  In our band, we called men like him ‘suits.’ They were all about turning a profit, with no respect for the craft or regard for the talent. They looked at us like cogs in a manufacturing line. But creativity didn’t work that way. There was an art to finding the right temperature for making music, and Mitchell and Billie didn’t seem to notice, or care, that they were ruining Wyatt’s.

  “I wanted to talk to you two both about Brad,” Mitchell said. He was standing directly in front of the piano, providing a show for me and Wyatt, who was still sitting next to me.

  “I was just going to lunch, Mitchell. I’ll be ready to record tomorrow.” Billie rolled her eyes.

  Without touching, I could feel Wyatt beside me. It was a rush. I wondered if it was the star power, a shallow attraction, or something else. He was handsome, this much I couldn’t deny. When his sister confronted me about being unprofessional, I sensed it was a problem they had experienced before.

  With a man as attractive as Wyatt as her bandmate, I imagined Billie often found women fawning over him. I didn’t take much offense, but it was clear that Wyatt was unhappy with her approach.

  There was a tension between him and his twin, like a fight was brewing or ending. Either way, I knew I needed to steer clear of adding fuel to whatever fire was threatening to spark between them. Although I was an only child, I knew how combative siblings could be. I didn’t want to give either one of them a reason to upset the other.

  In order for me to do my job, I needed both of them working. And this job was going to be my lifeline, the steppingstone I needed to build a reputation for myself in the industry.

  “It’s not about that, Billie. Everyone has to eat; I’m not upset with that. I was talking about your post today,” Mitchell explained. The producer was wearing a jogging suit, but from the looks of his protruding belly, I doubted he had participated in any exercise.

  “Look, did you see this?”

  I glanced up, unsure if Billie was talking to me or her brother. She ignored Mitchell’s comments and held her phone up over the piano.

  “She must be talking to you,” Wyatt nudged my side with his elbow.

  “Oh,” I said, sounding higher pitched than I’d expected. There was something that rushed through me whenever we touched, and I didn’t like it. “Is that your boyfriend?”

  “Yeah,” Billie smiled, turning the phone so that she could see the photo as though she hadn’t posted it herself. “His name is Brad; he’s a sweetheart.”

  Her attitude completely shifted when she spoke of him, and I realized she didn’t really have an issue with me. She was being as intimidating as Wyatt had during his portion of the interview, just in a different way.

  “He’s handsome. You two make a good couple,” I added.

  “We do, don’t we?” she grinned, glancing back at me. Her smile was genuine, and I felt a pang of jealousy for something I’d never had up to that point. A relationship that makes everything better.

  Mitchell shot me a sharp look before returning his attention to Billie. “That’s the problem, Billie. I’ve told you about how important perception is. Your fans love you, and many of them want to believe you could love them back,” he started.

  “Trust me, Mitchell, having a boyfriend does not deter men from being attracted to me. And when it comes to the female fans, seeing me in a relationship makes them admire me more. Look at this,” she turned her phone again, this time to Mitchell. I wondered what photo she could be sharing this time until she continued.

  “Photos of me and Brad have the highest likes and shares. It’s second in comments and impressions, only topped when I posted this hermit crab,” she nodded towards Wyatt. “I thought you said you were going to post about the sports drink I sent you.”

  “I forgot my login,” Wyatt answered with a smirk. I wasn’t sure if he was pulling her leg or not.

  “Wyatt, that’s ten grand, just for the post. Why do you have to be so difficult?” she snapped.

  “Billie, I’m not interested in endorsing products. I don’t do commercials, I make music. That’s what I want to do.” He held his hands up with frustration. It was obvious they had had this conversation before. I wondered if it was the cause for their attitudes.

  “Let’s discuss that later,” Mitchell continued. “These numbers are great, but did you see the poll sent over from PR?”

  “Those are outdated,” Billie said “Social media stats are all that matters right now, Mitchell. I’ve been trying to tell you that for months. If we can capture their attention here, we can convert that everywhere.”

  “Let’s talk about this on the way out,” Mitchell ushered Billie towards the door.

  “Finally,” Wyatt mumbled to me as the door closed.

&n
bsp; “Your sister knows her stuff when it comes to social media,” I said, impressed by how confidently she stood her ground with Mitchell.

  “Yeah, there’s no denying her commitment there,” he huffed.

  “Did you really forget your password?”

  “I will if that’s what it takes for her to stop trying to hawk products on my account.” He curved the left side of his lips, revealing a small dimple. My breath caught. God, he was sexy. Suddenly, Billie’s threats seemed warranted. Her brother was a heartthrob.

  “So, should we pick up with the song?” I changed the subject, eager to look away from him.

  “Right, right,” he nodded, his smile fading instantly as he held the notebook up.

  It only took a few minutes for Wyatt to begin putting his thoughts together. Playing a simple melody I’d written the previous week, I watched in awe as he stumbled through words until the lyrics fell together as if they belonged there. He was masterful in his creation, and his voice was much smoother than his speaking one.

  When talking, he rumbled through words, his tone deep and intense. But against a melody, his voice was transformed into a soothing sound that felt more like another instrument than a performance.

  At one point, he reached for the keys himself, and I found myself staring at the tattoos that covered his arms. Each one fit with the next, as though it was one intricate whole as opposed to several individual designs.

  “You play?” I asked, leaving the keys to him.

  “No,” he snatched his hands from the piano. The silence filled the room immediately, hovering around us like a thick fog. There was something between us. Was it nerves? Or maybe even the excitement of two artists creating? I couldn’t be sure, but I knew it was alluring, a high I wanted more of.

  “I just play around, but I can’t play like you,” he said.

  “This was my childhood,” I said. “Piano lessons twice a week for as long as I can remember. But don’t get me wrong, I loved it.”

  “That was me with a voice coach. I play guitar too, but when my mom heard me carry a note, she decided for me. So only one guitar lesson a week.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “You can always learn more instruments. You’re never too old,” I reasoned.

  “True. I always say I’m going to take classes, but then I can’t decide between the bass and piano. The piano seems too classical, but the bass is too cliché.”

  “I’ve just started learning the guitar,” I laughed. “I already know the mandolin and the yangqin.”

  “The yangqin?”

  “Yeah, a friend found it on Freecycle, so why not?” I giggled. “Ya never know.”

  “Well, aren’t you just the overachiever.” He nudged me again, and we laughed together, a release of all the nerves I’d been harboring. I began to feel comfortable as we started through another run, playing with more of his introspective lyrics that defined my melodies.

  Chapter 8

  WYATT

  FOR EVERYTHING NASHVILLE wasn’t, I had to admit how alive it felt as the sun lit the city. The warm weather was like a magnet for events. Every weekend, the streets were lined with markets and flea markets, local bands playing at small bars, and artisans selling their goods.

  I drove through downtown admiring the energy, feeling excited about the song I’d been singing all morning. It came to me in a dream, and I’d perfected it in the shower. When I called Mitchell, explaining the need to get in the studio to add music to the lyrics, he refused.

  The record label was done paying for studio time with only half of the group present. From now on, he said it had to be me and Billie to justify the cost. That was impossible for two days, because Billie’s weekends were off limits.

  Since Brad’s career as a lawyer kept him busy throughout the week, she devoted her weekends to him completely. It was a concession I’d agreed to when I didn’t have a reason to be in the studio.

  I didn’t share it with anyone, but I had been experiencing a creative drought, uninspired to write anything. It had been weeks since I had so much as stepped in a recording booth. When our pianist broke his arm, I was slightly relieved because it would buy me a little time.

  But after hiring Sadie, I’d felt myself coming alive sitting at the piano with her. She was the creative push I needed, the muse for inspiration. We’d all but created a song after hiring her, and now I had another I was ready to record.

  Thankfully, she’d invited me to her house after learning of Mitchell’s refusal to pony up on any studio time this weekend. I guess she’d wanted to make a good impression, which wasn’t really needed as I was already very happy. I hadn’t even considered she would have a piano at home. I was used to the starving artist type who could barely afford a permanent place.

  As I arrived at Sadie’s house, I knew that was not the case with her. She lived in a small family home on a quiet street not far from downtown. The grass was bright green and landscaped to perfection. Beside her small front porch was a row of colorful flowers, bunched together like they were ready to be plucked and thrown into a bouquet.

  I rang the doorbell and felt my stomach twist a bit and my heart beat quicker. It was rare that I got nervous, but now I didn’t even know why I was feeling that way. I was only going to work. Sadie opened the door, and I knew then just why my stomach was turning. It was her, and the way her long blonde hair fell over her shoulder.

  “Hey,” I announced, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

  “Hey,” she frowned, her blue eyes widening as she looked around me. “Where’s Billie?”

  “Oh, I forgot to mention that,” I forced a smile, realizing my request might now seem inappropriate. “Billie won’t record on the weekends, and Mitchell is refusing the studio because it’s not both of us.”

  “Oh,” was all she said, looking me up and down before adding, “so, you are able to record on the weekends, just only when Billie will record too?”

  “Right. But she spends her weekends with Brad. I think they’re on vacation, so there’s no chance of convincing her.”

  “Oh,” Sadie repeated.

  “Is that okay? If not, it’s fine, I can just wait until Monday,” I rushed the words, feeling a bit embarrassed.

  “No, no.” She shook her head, stepping aside to invite me in. “Come in, please. I’m sorry, I was just expecting the both of you.”

  I stepped into her house, taken aback by the bright colors. The hardwood floors were the darkest color I could see. Besides that, there was an explosion of art. A petite, royal blue, velvet sectional sofa was the center of the front room, with a matching circular ottoman with a yellow throw lying across it. Besides the ottoman was a bright pink coffee table, sitting on a dark orange rug. Bright artwork hung above the sofa and pretty much every other surface. Green plants were everywhere, some sitting on shelves, other so large they grew from large pots and stood almost as tall as Sadie.

  “I know,” Sadie said. “It’s a lot.”

  I hadn’t realized I was standing in awe until I saw her reaction to me, a mix of amusement and embarrassment. “This must be how everyone reacts to your home. It’s beautiful.”

  “You think so?” she blushed.

  “Of course. I know everyone must love it. Don’t let Billie see it, she might force you out and make this her Instagram headquarters.”

  Sadie blushed a little. “Everyone always mentions Instagram when they see it. I swear I didn’t decorate with social media in mind.” She shook her head, leading the way towards the back of the house.

  Quickly, I kicked my Blundstones off. It felt wrong to stomp through her house with my boots on. It was too… cute. Sadie turned just as I managed to free my left foot.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she assured me.

  I could sense her nerves, and it hit me like a ton of bricks that she did not see us as friends, or even equals. For Sadie, this was work. I was her boss, even if indirectly. A pang of guilt struck through my chest. I h
oped she hadn’t allowed me over because of some pressure that she might lose her job.

  I’d been so direct about needing her to work random hours and be available, but I didn’t want her to feel that way about her own home. If I wanted her to work, I needed to provide the necessary space for her to do so.

  “I usually just work in here,” she explained as we entered a small room at the back of the house. If I were a Realtor, I’d describe the room as a perfect nursery. It was just large enough for a purple loveseat for two with a green velvet cushion atop, and the upright piano.

  “I see you kept the theme going throughout the whole house,” I smirked. I’d never seen anyone so young with a home so well put together. It was a home, and just from seeing it I felt like I knew her better.

  “If you’re gonna do something, you might as well do it right,” she smiled, settling at the piano. “Do you want some water or tea or something?”

  “No, I’m good.” I sat on the loveseat, dropping my leather backpack.

  “Well, if you do, the kitchen is right out to the left. You can help yourself,” she said, her shoulders dropping a little. I knew the motion. Being at the piano was her comfort zone, where she was most confident. At that moment, I felt we had so much in common.

  “So, Wyatt, tell me about this song you’re raving about.”

  “Okay, so I’m not really sure about the melody, just the words right now. I’ve been playing around with it all morning,” I explained, the excitement resurfacing.

  “Can I see it?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I reached for my notebook and flipped the pages before handing it to her.

  She couldn’t know, but that was something I never did with anyone. Not even Billie could read my lyrics before they were complete. But with Sadie, I felt like she could help me take it to the level of completion. She could see past the scribbles, misspellings and scratched-out words.

  She nodded her head as she stared at the page, and then handed the notebook back to me. “How about I just play around with some chords. If any of them speak to you, just pick up where it feels right. I’ll build on whatever you give me.”