Five Golden Rings (Main Street Merchants Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I don’t know about that. My sister didn’t date at all in high school and then she got a job as a secretary at a law firm. One of the lawyers asked her out, he was her very first date, and bam, they fell in love and got married. She never had one date with another guy.”

  “On one hand, that’s really sweet, and on the other hand, it’s kind of a shame that she didn’t get to date more before settling down. How did she know what she was looking for?”

  Cara shrugged, turning to a fresh page in her notebook. “She said she knew it was him as soon as they met. Maybe you don’t have to date a lot to know what will make you happy.”

  “Well, I’ve dated a lot and I’m not happy, so I guess I should think about that.” Max took their exit into Denver, and Cara fumbled with her notebook. They were so close to the studio—so close to the fulfillment of her dreams . . . and possibly her nightmares.

  “Why isn’t your name on the list?”

  “What?” Max’s question jolted her out of her trance.

  “You haven’t put your name on the list. Aren’t you interested in either of us? Aren’t we good-looking enough for you?” Max waggled his eyebrows.

  “You’re good-looking. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Cara turned bright red. “Never mind. What I mean is, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

  “I see. Trying to let us down easy.”

  “That’s not it.” Cara couldn’t figure out what to say. How could she admit that she knew a relationship wasn’t looking for her?

  “All right, here we are.” Max steered the car into a parking spot outside a low gray building. It seemed so unassuming. Cara had imagined a tall, forbidding-looking building, maybe with gargoyles on the ledge that shot bad singers with laser beams that came from their eyes.

  She took a deep breath. “Aren’t you nervous? You look so calm.”

  Max laughed. “Nervous? I’m scared silly. But I’m a performer. I’ve learned how to hide what I really feel.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing out on by refusing to perform in front of other people. I don’t know how to hide.” Cara flipped down the visor and checked herself in the mirror. Nothing in her teeth, no mascara smeared under her eyes—she guessed this was about as good as it was going to get. “Well, let’s go in,” she said.

  “You say that like you’re afraid there’s a guillotine on the other side of that door,” Max said as he got out of the car.

  “I’m pretty certain there is one.”

  Cara squeezed the handle of her guitar case extra hard as they walked up to the building. Max held open the door and made a sweeping gesture for her to go first. She paused for just a second and then marched through. She refused to make something so simple as entering a building into a two-hour soap opera.

  They were met by a large man with long hair and a full salt-and-pepper beard. “I’m Jethro,” he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. “Well, not really. My mother named me Eugene.” He winked at Cara. “But in this industry, you’ve got to have a cool name. What’s yours?”

  “Cara Malone,” she replied.

  “Hey, I like that. How’d you come up with it?”

  “Um, I read it on my birth certificate.”

  Jethro threw his head back and laughed. “All right, then. I think you’ll do. I’ve already met Max here—no need to shake his hand. Don’t want my attention to go to his head—he’s pretty full of himself as it is.” He winked at Cara again and then led the way farther back into the building. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of Jethro. He was kind of like Hagrid, only a little better groomed and not quite so tall. She decided she liked him, even if she didn’t totally get where he was coming from.

  He led them into a studio and then around the glass partition to the microphones that hung from the ceiling. There were two music stands, a couple of stools, and that was pretty much it. “You get comfy and I’ll get things ready to go,” he said, striding back around the partition and putting on a giant pair of headphones that looked like earmuffs for the coldest Alaskan night.

  Max swung his guitar case up and set it on one of the stools, and Cara did the same. They busied themselves for the next few minutes taking out their instruments and tuning them. Cara focused intently on what she was doing—not that she had any fears of doing it incorrectly, but because it was good to take her mind off all the little details that could so easily drown her. Stuff like, what if she warbled that high note at the end of the chorus like she did the last time they practiced? What if she broke a string? What if the power went out and they weren’t able to record? Yeah, she shouldn’t think about those things.

  “You ready for a run-through?” Jethro asked, and Max gave him the thumbs-up.

  “He’s going to have us play the song a couple of times while he adjusts the mike levels and a few other things, and then he’ll actually start recording. We can do as many takes as we need to, so don’t worry about it.” Max grinned at her. “Deep breaths.”

  “What about the rest of the album?” Cara asked.

  “I’ll record that after we’re done with this song, and if I need to, I can come back next week. We’re not in a rush.”

  “I know you’re saying that just to cheer me up. I bet you’d love to get this finished today.”

  “Well, yeah, but I’ve got to be realistic, too. What if I come down with a sudden case of laryngitis?”

  Cara shook her head. “You’re as bad as I am. Okay, let’s do this thing.”

  Her voice shook a little during the first half of the song, but by the end, she was feeling strong and confident. The second pass was nearly flawless, and by the time Jethro said he was ready to start recording, she thought she was doing pretty well. She tried to ignore the fact that the session had actually started and pretended they were still rehearsing.

  Max was amazing. She realized he’d been holding back a little during their rehearsals—whether to save his voice for the real thing or to help ease her into it, she didn’t know. But he was definitely ready for this career change—he sounded like a star already.

  “Okay, that was pretty good,” Jethro said when they came to the end. “Let’s do another take, and this time, Cara, come in just a little stronger on the second chorus.”

  “Yeah, I knew I messed that up. I’ll do better this time.”

  “No beating yourself up. Remember, I can work magic over here.” Jethro wiggled his fingers, probably trying to look like he was casting a spell. Maybe he thought he was Hagrid too.

  The second take went much better than the first. Cara felt herself becoming less afraid, and when Max turned to her and grinned, she knew she was hitting it. A wave of euphoria washed over her and she just enjoyed the rest of the song, letting herself feel the music instead of analyzing her way through it.

  “Okay, that was great,” Jethro said. “But I think you should try something else. Cara, how would you feel about starting us off?”

  Cara’s smile froze on her face. “What?”

  “Instead of you blending in with Max, what if Max blends in with you? Your guitar has a different quality, and I think it would make a better introduction to the song.”

  “But it’s Max’s album,” she protested. “He should always lead off.”

  “Not necessarily,” Max said. “Our goal here is for each song to be the best it can be, and if your guitar makes the introduction stronger, we should change how we’re doing it.”

  “And you wouldn’t mind?”

  Max grinned. “How could I mind? You’re strengthening the whole song. What’s not to love about that?”

  Cara took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

  When Jethro gave the nod, she plunged in, refusing to think about it. If she kept overanalyzing every little thing, she’d just put herself in the nut house. She closed her eyes and let everything flow, and when Max joined in, it felt seamless. Jethro was right—this was how they should have done it to begin with.


  “I think that’s a wrap,” Jethro said a few seconds after the last notes of music faded out.

  “Already? I thought we’d have to sing it at least a dozen times,” Cara said.

  “Why put any of us through that? The song sounds great, and if I’m not mistaken, there are seven others to get done. I’m ready—how about you?”

  Cara sat next to Jethro and listened to Max record the next song. If he didn’t become world famous after this, she’d be totally surprised.

  “I’m going over to that diner across the street,” she said as they got ready for the third song. She would have loved to stick around, but she’d barely eaten that morning and she was starving. “Back in a bit.”

  “Would you be a doll and bring me some coffee?” Jethro fished in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill.

  “Sure. Max? Do you want anything?”

  “I’m good for now.”

  Cara clutched Jethro’s money while she ran across the street. She placed her order and let the waitress know that she’d be wanting a coffee to go, and then she pulled out her phone and texted Brennan while she waited for her food.

  How’re things at the shop?

  He answered almost immediately. Really slow. It’s boring here without you. How’d it go?

  I think it went well. The sound engineer looks like Hagrid. He seemed pleased.

  I’m not surprised. I knew you’d kill it.

  That reply caught Cara off guard. She wasn’t used to so much positive reinforcement all at once. Just a couple of weeks ago, only her roommates and the people who sold her sheet music even knew she played, and now, she was having to open herself up more than she ever had in her life.

  Thanks, she replied after a long moment of trying to figure out what to say.

  When her food came, it looked a little suspicious—was tomato soup supposed to be pink? She’d always thought it was red—and it was sort of bland. She’d have to give Sloane an extra tip next time she ate at the diner back home. They were definitely not created equal.

  Jethro gave her a big smile when she handed him the coffee and his change. “Lifesaver, that’s what you are. And we got a lot of work done, so hopefully you won’t be sitting around bored much longer.”

  “No, I’m good. This is actually pretty fascinating.” She waved her arm at all the lights and buttons in front of the sound engineer.

  “You sit tight and I’ll show you how this is done,” he said. “First, you’ve got to be able to hear the music.”

  “I can hear it,” she said, a little confused.

  “No, I mean really hear it.” Jethro handed her a huge set of headphones, and she put them on. Max strummed his guitar for demonstration, and Cara nodded. The headphones amplified everything coming through the mike, and she could pick up on nuances now that she couldn’t before.

  As Max played a touching ballad, Jethro flipped switches and adjusted settings, just as he had when she sat next to him before, but this time, he explained what each thing did. She focused, trying to remember, and after a bit, she could remember a lot of it on her own.

  By the time they had finished recording, it was early evening, and Cara was starving again. She didn’t know how Max went so long without eating. Jethro had pulled out a cooler with a monstrous sub sandwich halfway during the day, but Max had turned down the offered slice.

  “And that’s in the can,” Jethro said, leaning back in his chair after the last song. “I’ve got a little remixing to do and whatnot, but I should have this to you in a week.”

  “Thanks, man,” Max said, coming around the partition and shaking Jethro’s hand. “You made this a lot of fun.”

  “Well, you made it easy. Thanks for coming in so prepared. I tell ya, some of the folks I get in here, I swear they decided to save all their practicing for their time in the studio. It’s a huge waste.” Jethro turned back to his console, plugged in a thumb drive, and then handed it to Cara. “Here’s a little something to remember me by.”

  “What is it?” She turned the device over in her hand.

  “It’s your song. Now, keep in mind, it hasn’t been remixed or anything—not that it’ll need a lot—so that’s not the final version that will go on the demo. But I thought you might want to have something to show your friends, family, stuff like that.”

  Cara wasn’t expecting the tears that welled up in her eyes. What a sweet thing for him to do. “Thanks, Jethro. This means a lot.”

  “You just be sure to name me on the album cover when you sell this thing, and we’re even.”

  “I have no doubt Max will sell a million copies,” Cara said, slipping the thumb drive into her pocket.

  “Oh, come on now. Don’t cut yourself short, girlie. I record probably a hundred girl singers in this booth every year, and you’re one of the best I’ve ever heard. And your touch with that guitar? You need a little work, no doubt about that, but you’re a natural. You’ve got a career ahead of you.”

  Cara was dumbfounded and couldn’t even come up with words for a proper good-bye. She just waved as Max led her from the studio and into the parking lot.

  “Was that amazing or what?” Max let out a victory cry and raised his arms in the air. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

  “That really was amazing. Thanks for letting me be part of it.”

  “I think our duet is going to be the most popular song on the demo.” Max opened her door, and she slid inside. “I’m taking you out to dinner before we head home. Where would you like to go?”

  “Um, not the diner across the street. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  “Oh, we’re definitely not going to the diner. I have something a little nicer in mind. Not fancy, mind you, but not a diner.” Max climbed in, clicked his seat belt, and started the car. “I’m starving.”

  “Well, why didn’t you eat all day? It’s not like you didn’t have chances.”

  Max laughed as he backed out of the parking space. “It’s time to let you in on my deep, dark secret.”

  “You have a deep, dark secret?”

  “Yep. I throw up when I get nervous. Just like you.”

  Cara raised an eyebrow at him. That didn’t sound likely—he was this good-looking, confident guy, always taking life by the horns. She couldn’t even imagine him getting nervous, let alone throwing up. “You do?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow.” She waited until they had joined the flow of traffic. “Your whole life?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. I threw up before my fifth-grade play, before getting my driver’s license, before my first date . . . It’s just how I’ve always been. But now that the stress is over, let’s eat. Do you really not care where we go?”

  “Nope. I’m not picky.” Cara cringed as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Back in high school, that was her catch phrase. Her friends would ask where they should go after the game, and she’d say, “I’m not picky,” pointing down at her overweight body. When was she finally going to accept that she wasn’t that person anymore? She wished Regan was there to bully her into saying something more positive.

  “Well, I found this place when I was first out here in Colorado scouting for jobs. I hope you like it.” Max steered the car into the parking lot of a family restaurant decorated with hay bales and wagon wheels along the porch. “They have the best cornbread I’ve ever tasted, hands down.”

  “That sounds good,” Cara said, squelching the urge to pull out her phone and Google how many calories came in a small piece of cornbread. She wasn’t going to obsess about dinner. She was going to enjoy celebrating their accomplishment, and then maybe go to the gym a few minutes earlier in the morning.

  “My mom is a cornbread goddess, so for me to say this stuff’s better than hers is a pretty big deal. Just don’t tell her I said so.” Max shut his door and came around to help Cara out. She liked that about him. Even though they weren’t on a date and really had no intention of dating, he treated her like a lady everywhere they went.
>
  Everything on the menu looked delicious, and Cara was having a hard time making a choice. She settled on having the same thing Max ordered, a bowl of chili and endless cornbread. She could give him her extra cornbread. The chili came with cheese, sour cream, diced tomatoes, onions, olives—the works—all in separate containers so they could take whatever they wanted, and the waitress brought over small bowls of freshly whipped honey butter. Cara groaned when everything was placed in front of her.

  “What’s the matter?” Max asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just going to have to hit the treadmill as soon as we get home.”

  Max raised an eyebrow curiously. “You sound serious.”

  “I think I am.” Cara surveyed her options. She could leave off the cheese and sour cream and just use extra tomatoes, olives, and onions—that would be really delicious. And she could skip the honey butter entirely.

  Max loaded up his bowl with all the extras, and Cara hoped he’d be so busy eating that he wouldn’t watch her. But after a moment, she felt his eyes on her, and she glanced up.

  “Dairy intolerant?”

  “No.”

  He nodded toward the table. “You’ve only taken some of the good stuff. Come on—we’re celebrating!”

  Cara sighed and set her spoon down, then pinched her hands between her knees. It was time for the pat explanation she gave everyone. “I weighed two hundred and fifty pounds in high school, and I’ve worked hard to get that weight off. I’m really proud of myself and my new lifestyle.”

  Max nodded. “That’s awesome—congratulations.” He stirred his chili, mixing in the cheese. “Why don’t you sound proud?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve done something amazing, and you said you’re proud. But you don’t sound like it—you sound like you’ve given that speech a million times and never believed it once.”

  Whoa. “Um, I didn’t realize you were Dr. Phil.”

  Max held up both hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t open my mouth when I talk. I’m always saying the wrong thing.”

  “If it will make you happy, I’ll put some cheese in my bowl, okay?” Cara reached out and took hold of the large spoon sticking out of the cheese dish, then sprinkled a generous portion on her chili. She’d pay for it in the morning, but she wasn’t going to let Mr. Good-looking Know-it-all have the last word.