“And it’s television. So, we need to really look good, wear the Outlaws t-shirts, and wear those pretty smiles.”
The bus cruised through the crowded New York City streets. Danny expertly and patiently weaved around taxi cabs, bikers, pedestrians, and endless traffic lights. He was a saint. Cinnamon would be screaming and honking by now. And she probably would have smashed into at least ten cars. Navigating downtown Nashville was as much of a heart attack as she wanted to handle. He finally stopped the bus by an unimposing brick building with a large sign heralding Media Group Studios, New York Syndication Offices. How on earth did Danny find these invisible parking spots? Shaking her head, she joined the others exiting the bus.
“Good job, Danny.” She stopped to shake his hand. “I don’t know how you do it, but I’m glad you’re our driver.”
He smiled warmly and tipped his cap at her.
Val checked them in at the front desk and soon they were greeted by two ladies wearing earpieces. Cinnamon had come to realize everyone who worked anywhere in the music business was required to wear earpieces or carry a tablet, or both. One girl, with rainbow colored hair, carried a tablet and typed as she talked rapid fire to them, pausing only to talk into her microphone. That was when the other girl, with purple hair, jumped in to welcome them and explain what to expect as they traveled the twisting halls. Cinnamon was nearly out of breath by the time they stopped in front of what looked like the start of someone’s living room.
One wall stood center. It was painted with browns and corals. A music set was assembled to the right of that. Five chairs and two sofas sat lined up in front of the wall. Potted plants and small tables filled the rest of the small space. It was . . . intimate. Cozy. Welcoming. Rows of bright lights twinkled overhead, a set of cameras sat ready to roll on a small railroad track in front of the living room display, and more cameras were strategically placed to capture host and guests from every angle. Cinnamon swallowed down the butterflies and rested a hand on her stomach. Live television. Were they ready for this?
She looked at her bandmates and noticed most of them looked just as apprehensive as she felt. Then Clayton Connor walked out from some back area and glided across the living room to welcome them. He was blond, and tall, and charming. He flashed a gold-toothed smile.
“Welcome, Outlaw ladies!” He beamed, gripping each of their hands in turn. “We’re so glad to have you on our show.” He turned to the living room. “What do you think?”
“Very nice,” Rissa said when it appeared the rest weren’t going to answer. “Thank you for having us.”
“Okay, let’s get to business before you gals head off to hair and make-up. The show runs for two hours. We countdown the top ten, so since you’re here, you can bet one of your songs will be in that list. We have a tight schedule and devote thirty-five minutes for song play and seven minutes for you to play a live song.” He waved to the band set up to the right.
“We do three sets of interviews. The first is an introduction. Who you are, where you’re from, a fun fact if you have one. That runs ten minutes total. We do another interview one-third through the countdown, that’s another ten minutes. I’ll ask a question or two and you can take turns answering. We do that one more time just before we play the number one song. It’ll be one final question with your answers, and then where to find you in the next few days. That’s ten more minutes.
The rest of the time is devoted to commercial airtime, and it’s carefully placed throughout the show. Halfway through, while we’re on commercial break, I’ll take you over to the music stage, you have a minute to check your station and adjust your microphones, whatever you need to do, and we go live after the break. Any questions?”
Since no one had any, or their heads were still spinning from Clayton’s whirlwind speech, they were whisked away to hair and make-up. They were seated in barber-style chairs. The workers exclaimed over Taylor’s long blonde tresses and C.C.’s fabulous eyes and did their best to make all six of them look great. Half an hour later they were escorted back to the living room where Clayton waited. He was dressed in pressed jeans, cowboy boots, a crisp striped dress shirt, and a bolo tie. He once more welcomed them and invited them to sit anywhere on the stage.
Cinnamon almost gagged on his strong aftershave. It was too strong and too floral for a man, and he wore too much. It reminded her of the slight spice and musk scent Silas had worn the night they went to Llewellyn’s. Silas had smelled so good compared to Clayton Conner. The night he held her as they danced. She settled next to Katie Lyn, and fourth from the end. Soon the bright lights flicked to life and the cameras rolled. A cameraman riding the railroad track counted down.
“Three. Two. One. You’re live!”
“Welcome back for another edition of the Top Ten Countdown with Clayton Conner. I’m your host, Clayton Conner, and with me today are the six members of the hit group, The Lipstick Outlaws.” Applause filled the air. “Ladies, take a minute and go down the line and introduce yourself, and tell us a little about you.”
Rissa and Taylor went first, briefly introducing themselves. Cinnamon assumed he really did mean take just a minute. When Kat finished, and Clayton looked at her, she was ready.
“I’m Cinnamon Chadwick, from Nashville. I play fiddle and banjo and co-write for the group.” Clayton smiled, applause sounded, and the focus moved on to C.C. and Mac. Clayton did a recap of last week’s number one song and a quick commercial break. Cinnamon leaned back. Doing this was going to forever change how she saw live television.
* * *
Silas cracked another ginger ale open. He had to admit, some country music wasn’t too bad. He’d never heard of this Clayton Connor guy but apparently, he was pretty famous in the country music circles. Cinnamon looked a little nervous and he’d bet this was her first experience with live television. Overwhelmed would be the word he’d choose, watching her expression. The cameras flicked from her and the rest of the band, to the show’s host, to the huge screen where videos rolled of the current song being played as they worked up the countdown. Some were concert footage, and some were probably official music videos the artists made. So, when did the Karma video go live?
“Welcome back,” the host said after yet another series of commercials. “I’m here with The Lipstick Outlaws. Ladies, you’re on the road so much, fans want to know about your personal lives. Are you married or dating anyone and if so, how do you balance that with touring? Rissa, how about you go first.”
Silas already knew their stories. He’d heard them from Cinnamon, and he’d heard them on different radio interviews. This seemed to be another of the same, just live television instead of radio. He wondered what she thought of all the glitz and glamour. He grinned. It sounded like he needed to make another Skype call. He waited impatiently until it was Cinnamon’s turn to answer.
“Cinnamon, I heard you might be dating someone from outside the music industry. Is there any truth to that rumor?”
Silas paused. How had that gotten started? Nashville was small when it came to artists’ lives, but really, they’d only been seen publicly a few places. How was Cinnamon going to react? She looked like she was going to hedge the question with another of those no-answer circles she did so well. Silas took a swig of ale and watched her lick her lips.
“Well, Clayton, I’ve recently found someone and have entered into a relationship. He has lots of positive traits and it’s becoming serious. I enjoy spending time with him. He’s not involved in music and the tour schedule does make it difficult to be together. However, I think we can be honest enough to make things work out.”
Silas spit his drink out, spraying it over his jeans and the floor. Gunner looked up in surprise at Silas’s amazed yelp. He wished he could play it back over again. Had he heard right? Cinnamon was admitting on live television that she was in a committed relationship? He wanted to yell and fist pump the air.
Clayton looked empathetic. “Yes, the miles and time is difficult, especially on new
relationships. Is this someone local to Nashville?”
“Yes, we’re . . . just a short distance apart. When I’m home.”
He wondered what she was going to say. We’re what? She made it sound like they were a business arrangement, which was close enough to the truth initially, and then she clammed up.
Clayton moved on to the next in line, then the next, and then started another song. From what he understood of the show, the girls were bound to have a song on the countdown, and they were also going to play a song. Would it be Karma or another hit? Or something new? He really didn’t care. This was his first time seeing her perform live, and not YouTube footage. She looked utterly fantastic, her hair looked great and her cheeks had a vibrant glow to them. Doubtlessly she was professionally done up for the show, but he didn’t care. She looked good to him anytime. He jumped up to grab some towels and another ginger ale before the host came back with more questions.
Several commercial breaks later, as the song countdown stalled at number five, the cameras picked up Clayton and the band at the little stage. He spotted Cinnamon holding a fiddle and standing off to the side. Clayton introduced them once more.
“Here they are, ladies and gentlemen, the incredibly multi-talented Lipstick Outlaws, performing their big hit, When Karma Comes Calling for You!”
Silas leaned forward, breathing slowed as he squinted at the screen. Cinnamon led with a slow whine on the fiddle, the rest of the members slowly joining in. It was the most ominous, mournful, bone-chilling music Silas had ever heard. And Cinnamon wrote it! Then the lead singer stepped to her mic, slowly tapping her thigh as she counted down. She took Cinnamon’s words and made them the All-American you-done-me-wrong song. It still chilled him, even more so live than it had when he heard the recorded version. Though Katie Lyn sang, his eyes were stuck on Cinnamon.
She played the fiddle, her booted toe tapping the rhythm; her eyes closed as she concentrated. Her hair swung as she swayed in time to the music. By the time the song ended, he felt like he’d been slapped around. If the guy who cut her to the point of making her write this song ever heard it, he’d feel like he’d been shot and run over by a garbage truck.
Applause erupted and the girls bowed. Cinnamon wiped away a tear and his heart lurched. Was that a tear of joy or sorrow? He wanted to know. He wanted to be there to greet her off stage and wipe it away.
They all went back to the living room set up and Clayton launched them into the number five song. That meant whatever song they had was in the top four.
* * *
Cinnamon thought she’d cry when they finished playing. They’d played live lots of times, lots of places, but Karma was still a relatively new performing song, despite its radio success. That song hit her every time. It was good therapy . . . every time. Could it be that song, not meant to be heard once she wrote it, was going to heal her enough to take a chance on love again? What made her confess to Clayton about having a relationship? It burst from her lips and she hastened to stuff them back in, realizing there was no way to call them back.
And now they were at number four in songs. There was no way Karma would be this high up already, so their hit had to be maybe Silly Me or an earlier song. It really was impossible to keep up with which song was at what standing on any of the many countdowns.
“And we’re back with the Lipstick Outlaws. So many of your dreams have come true already. You’ve played at the CMA Awards, sang the National Anthem, had several chart toppers, the list goes on. You’ve had a relatively short existence musically speaking, debuting a little over a year ago. Tell me, what’s left to dream about in the years ahead?”
Rissa first, followed by C.C., then Mac.
“I’d like to see us sing the National Anthem at the Superbowl.”
“It would be neat to do a residency in Vegas.”
“An international tour would be good. After we’ve recovered from this one.”
Everyone chuckled at that comment. Katie Lyn was next.
“I think it would be good if the Lipstick Outlaws could start a philanthropic foundation to help someone. Maybe children around Nashville or something on a larger scale.”
Cheers sounded off around the room.
* * *
Bundled up, the girls went back out into the New York City cold. Cinnamon’s gaze drifted to the bus parked across the street from theirs. This was the crew’s free time. Two hours to do as they pleased, and most of them probably weren’t back from their excursions yet. They climbed aboard and Lynette was dressing Madison in her warmest outerwear.
“There’s a small museum just up the street a couple blocks,” Lynette said. “I thought I’d take Maddie there for just a little while. Half an hour maybe. Val says we have time before we have to pull out again.”
Katie Lyn hugged her mom, then kissed Madison. “Be good for Nana, baby. See you soon.” As they climbed down the steps, she set the alarm on her phone. If they weren’t back when the alarm went off, she’d raise the cavalry. She also watched to see what direction they went.
Cinnamon stood; hands clasped in front of her as she twisted her fingers. “Girls, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. This is important and it’s been on my mind for a while now.” She waited until they all sat down, setting their phones and tablets aside to stare at her.
“Have any of you stopped to think about our road crew? Those guys work hard every night to make sure we look great, and so we can go do what we just did with Clayton Conner. But do any of us actually know any of them? I mean really know them? C.C., you can answer for Dalton, of course, but what about everyone else?”
She was rewarded with silence, blank looks, and shrugged shoulders. She pressed on. “Me neither. I’m lucky to get their names right. Look, we drag them all over the country for weeks on end, taking them away from their family and home. We know what that’s about and how it feels. We also know why we’re doing thing. This is our dream. Our rainbow to catch. What about them?”
She splayed her hand toward the bus opposite them. “Are they doing this just to pay the bills? Or do they have musical aspirations of their own? Do they just like traveling and dig the gypsy lifestyle?”
Again, she got some blank looks. It was clear to her none of them had considered this before. “Think of Cole Swindell. He traveled with Luke Bryan and sold merchandise at the shows. Just like Dawn and Felicity do for us. I can’t help but wonder how many times Cole Swindell stood at those tables, selling CD’s and t-shirts with Luke’s face and wished it could be his. He must have dreamed every night if only it could be his face and name. Look at him now headlining his own tours, just like us.” She paused for a breath. “And Faith Hill got started selling t-shirts and trying to be a background vocalist before her break.”
“What’s your point?” Mac asked.
“I want to get to know our crew better and find out what makes them come out here with us. Like I mentioned some time ago, I want to do something really special for them at the conclusion of the tour. Which is about three and a half months away. If any of them have musical aspirations, let them sing. I say bring them on stage at the shows and let them sing a song or two. If they write, let them sit down and write something for us. Maybe we can record it and they’ll get a start on their songwriting career.”
They slowly nodded; their expressions thoughtful.
“Whatever motivates them to be out here, let’s find it and see if we can help them. Maybe they just want to travel and staying away from home is no big deal. Okay, that’s cool. But we can still do something nice for them at the end of the tour. Now, what do you think?”
She heaved a breath and sat down.
“Since the tour wraps up in June, we could rent a space and host a big barbeque for all of them and their families,” C.C. suggested. “Complete with food and games.”
“We could rent some of those bouncy castles, too,” Taylor added.
“Maybe we could give them all gift cards, so they could spend that mo
ney however they liked.” Rissa countered. “Same amount of money we’d spend on a barbeque, but it would let them choose what they want.”
“June is also good for vacations. We could send them all on a short vacation. Like a weekend to Disney or something like that.”
“Not everyone is going to want to go to Disney.”
Katie Lyn huffed. “Fine. We could offer a choice. A weekend to Disney, or Dollywood, Great Wolf Lodge, or a couple other similar locations. That way they can choose the best one for them.” She crossed her arms.
“Let’s not fight, okay. No decision has to be made right now.” Cinnamon held her hands out. “You all have good ideas and that’s all I wanted to do, raise awareness of my thought to generate ideas.”
“What do you want to do, Cinnamon? Buy every one of them a new car?”
“No, Mac, I don’t. But if someone needs a reliable car and can’t afford it, maybe the Lipstick Outlaws could discreetly help them. I know I sure remember the days of hoping the car would start and get me where I needed to go.”
Several nodded in agreement. Rissa cleared her throat. “Okay, Cinnamon brought up a good subject. I think we should all think about it, maybe dig around if we can do it subtly to see what their greatest motivations are, the biggest needs and desires might be, and we can come back to this when we start back up after March fifteenth. Cin, thank you.”
Cinnamon nodded. “Right. In the meantime, we still have a show tonight. Shouldn’t everyone be back pretty soon?”
“Mom and Maddie have five minutes left.”
Cinnamon grinned as she heard them opening the bus door and clamor up. Madison’s cry was full of delight. “Mommy! We saw the neatest stuff!” Kat greeted her daughter, anxious to hear all about the museum. She shook her head. Television countdown guest half an hour ago, celebrating the number one spot for Silly Me, tonight she’ll be lead singer in New York City, but right now she’s just plain Mommy. If she ever had kids, she hoped she could balance all the roles she played half as well as Katie Lyn did every day.
Cinnamon’s Courageous Heart: Sweethearts of Country Music, Book 5 Page 11
