Diva NashVegas

by Rachel Hauck

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “Me? I’m still recovering from you finding out I was doing the interview instead of Beth.”

  “For communications professionals, y’all are lousy communicators.”

  “Touché.”

  We fall silent. The air between us is comfortable, but I wonder if I should call off the interview. “Aubrey, do you want—”

  The phone rings and she nabs it from the glass table. “Zach? Right . . . Well, it would’ve been nice to know . . . Yes, I understand. Please, all the details next time. Thank you.”

  She presses End and tosses the phone to the other side of the couch. “Ahhhh,” she yells, hands over her face. “What is it about this summer? Everything crashing and colliding.” She starts to laugh.

  “We don’t have to do this today.”

  “Yes. We do.” Aubrey stands, straightening her blue top and propping her hands on her hips. “Connie’s on her way. And I’m just going with the flow, see?” She does a hula move. “Shoot, if you all want to put me on national TV, who am I to complain? Maybe I’ll sell fifty million albums.”

  “Fifty million? Did you just pull that figure out of the air?” I laugh. “Sounds like a nice round number.”

  Rafe pokes his head out. “Connie’s here.”

  Aubrey retrieves the phone and walks toward me. “Been one heck of a summer, Scott, and something tells me the rollercoaster hasn’t arrived at the station yet.”

  “Then hold onto the bar.”

  22

  ”I’ve known Aubrey since she was a kid. When she recorded my song ‘Always,’ I knew we’d hit platinum.”

  —Songwriter Danny Hayes

  Scott: Your parents were famous gospel singers. Why country music for you?

  AJ: Country happened by accident. In fact, getting into the music business was all a big fluke. During my senior year of high school, Connie signed me up to do a couple of demos for some songwriters she knew, one being Danny Hayes, who was a good friend of Daddy’s.

  This was back before I was a diva and people [nudging Connie] bossed me around. [laughing]

  Connie: From the time her parents died, I watched Aubrey’s love for music fade. She was still gung-ho for basketball, but I didn’t believe it was her true calling. I’d lost Peter to anger and hurt, and I didn’t want to lose Aubrey too.

  So I staged a musical intervention. Danny had written a great new song and mentioned off the cuff to me he thought it’d be a great song for a voice like Aubrey’s.

  AJ: He hadn’t heard me sing in years.

  Connie: His one casual comment gave me the idea to have her sing the demo.

  AJ: On the way over to the recording studio, I grumbled and complained. “Why am I doing this? Danny can sing his own dern demo. He doesn’t need me.” On and on. Connie reminded me I was still saving money for college, plus I needed money for the senior class trip and a basketball camp I wanted to attend. Singing demos paid good money and was way more fun than bagging groceries at Kroger or Harris Teeter.

  Scott: Why the aversion to singing, especially a demo?

  AJ: Singing brought back too many memories. When a parent dies, so does a part of your past. I could never revisit the memories without realizing, “Daddy and Momma are gone.”

  Then, once Peter ran off, music completely soured for me. I wanted to play basketball and get on with my “other” life.

  Connie: Danny’s song fit Aubrey. You should’ve seen her when she walked in the studio, all stiff with attitude. [laughing] Danny started playing the song, and within a minute, Aubrey completely grasped the melody and understood the lyrics. When the musicians joined in, she stepped up to the mike and belted it out in one take.

  AJ: [laughing] I just wanted to get it over with.

  Connie: Whatever, but you owned that song, and it became your first number one hit.

  Scott: So, that’s how we got the song “Always.” How’d you go from singing a demo for Danny Hayes to a number one hit?

  AJ: Connie, again. [jerking her thumb toward the older woman] She took the demo over to Les Carter, who was then running Mountain Music, and said something like, “Here’s your next star.”

  Connie: Actually, I said, “Call me when you’re ready to talk a serious deal.” He asked why, who was on the demo, and I said, “Your next star.”

  Scott: You were a woman on a mission. How did you know Aubrey would sign a deal with Mountain Music?

  Connie: I didn’t. I spent three weeks convincing her.

  Scott: Really? So you held out on her, Aubrey?

  AJ: Of course. Never go down without a fight. [winking] About the time of the demo, I found out I’d earned a scholarship to play basketball at Vandy. When Connie came to me with a record deal, I laughed. I knew enough about the business to understand the numbers game. With what little bit of money I had from Daddy and Momma and their continued record sales and songwriting royalties, which we had yet to organize into a business, the money I made singing demos, plus my Vandy scholarship, added up to more than I would make recording an album. And I’d be playing basketball.

  Connie: She knew by the time Mountain Music recouped all their expenses for recording, promoting, selling, and marketing a new artist, she’d have to sell gold to see any money other than a tidy advance. Plus, give all of her time and attention to promoting herself and the album.

  AJ: Yeah, I think they offered me $100,000, but I had to live on that while recording, and while touring. Pay Connie as my acting manager, pay a lawyer, maybe have to hire an assistant. All these people get paid out of the advance. They get paid whether the album does well or not. And I knew I’d have to sell enough units to pay back the advance to the studio, plus any and all expenses—which add up, trust me. Chances are I wouldn’t see any royalties. Not on a first album.

  Connie: I still had her lined up to sing demos.

  Scott: But your first album went platinum in eight months and sold four million units.

  AJ: I’m very blessed, but even that was a fluke. Les at Mountain Music had a friend, Vance Piedmont, who was making an indie romantic comedy. He called Les looking for a theme song. Vance pitched the movie theme, and Les decided to give him “Always.” The movie was a hit at the Sundance festival, and next thing you know, “Always” turned my first album, Willing to Make a Change, into multiple platinum.

  Scott: Got to admit, that is pretty spectacular. But how did you choose Mountain Music over Vandy basketball?

  AJ: I got hurt my senior year during the regional playoffs. Pulled my hamstring. The injury sidelined me. Connie took advantage of my weakness and carted me around town for meetings with producers and A&R reps. Between the lot of them, I didn’t stand a chance of saying no.

  Connie: I told her, “Make the record. At least you can say you did. You can go to college next year.”

  Scott: The rest, as they say, is history.

  AJ: Yes, Connie Godwin history. She’s been known to manipulate an artist or two.

  Connie: [smiling] And I’ve never been wrong.

  Scott: You have a reputation for being difficult in the studio. Did that start from day one or happen as you grew in the industry?

  AJ: First of all, having a reputation is one thing, the truth is another.

  Scott: You’re not difficult?

  AJ: No. Well yes, I am. But not nasty, mean, difficult. And not just because. With my first album, I did exactly what Mountain Music wanted: marched to their orders, recorded their songs with their producer, with their musicians. They assigned me a stylist and a media relations person who taught me how to walk, talk, eat, sleep, and wave to the fans.

  Connie: Remember, Aubrey thinks this is a one-time thing. She’s going to college.

  AJ: Right. I gritted my teeth and said, “You can put up with these idiots for one year.” [laughing] Then ‘Always’ became a hit, and six months later three singles from the album were in the top ten, and two hit number one. They had me making videos, singing on Leno and Letter
man. It was crazy. The whole time, I’m whispering to Connie, “When I go to Vandy next year, should I live in the dorms or an apartment? Maybe live with you?”

  Connie: I’d lie awake in bed at night wondering, Is this really happening to our little Aubrey James?

  Scott: What finalized your decision to stay with the music business?

  AJ: The Garth Brooks tour. That’s when I knew this wasn’t a onetime album, something fun to pass the time. My destiny had been set.

  Connie: She came to me and said, “I’m not going to college, am I?”

  AJ: [holding up her hands like a balancing scale] Garth Brooks.

  College. A sure thing. A not so sure thing. I wanted college, but in the end could not say no to Garth Brooks. Learning from him, watching him, being around him ignited something in me. I forgot all about college. By the end of the tour, I was itching to return to the studio for my next album. And, perhaps, a baby diva was born.

  Connie: Les and his team were giddy over a first-time artist doing so well. We had meetings almost every day, preparing for the next album, talking concept, picking songs, listening to demos, discussing songwriters. Aubrey went on photo shoots . . .

  AJ: One day, I was in a shoot for eight hours—mind you, there’s no album yet; this is a test run—and I changed my clothes four hundred times. Slow but sure, all the lessons I’d learned about music and the business from my parents started to surface. I decided, “This is my career and I’m doing it my way.” First thing I did was fire their producer and hire Dave Whitestone, which caused a big ruckus with Les.

  Scott: The baby diva grew up fast.

  AJ: [laughing] Let’s just say she found her footing. Connie and I’d known Dave for a long time, and he’d recently worked on some great projects with other artists. I respected him. I didn’t have the confidence to write my own material for the country/ pop world, but felt Dave and I could find songs that were right for me. With Les’s producer, I felt like Johnny Bravo.

  Scott: Johnny Bravo?

  AJ: Yeah, Greg Brady? Johnny Bravo? In one of The Brady Bunch episodes, Greg signs with some record label who only wanted him because he fit the costume.

  Scott: Not a big fan of The Brady Bunch.

  AJ: Check it out on TV Land. Anyway, I didn’t want to be the Johnny Bravo of Mountain Music: a girl fitting their idea of a country artist, becoming a product of their marketing scheme.

  So, this led to my second fight over the album’s first single release. We’d agreed on “Get Up, Get Going,” but they changed it two days before the release date to, “Listen to the Night,” which I felt was too mellow.

  Scott: Did you win?

  AJ: After a lot of bloodshed, yeah. [winking] A year later Les got axed and Nathan Brack came in.

  Scott: What happened between you and Nathan?

  AJ: [looking at Connie] Nathan and I just never clicked. If Les wanted Johnny Bravo, Nathan wanted a robot Johnny Bravo.

  He’s all business, all the time. I was a young, impressionable artist, successful and arrogant. By album three, I’d developed my own style and didn’t want any label honcho telling me what to do.

  Nathan insisted I look and act like he wanted. Sing the songs his people recommended. But by album three I’d discovered my voice and style was more soulful country than pop country. Nathan hated it. He thought it sounded too much like my gospel roots and would remind fans to be good and not bad, if you know what I mean. Add to that Nathan didn’t like being told no by a twenty-two-year-old.

  We parted ways after that album. I probably aged five years during the process.

  Scott: And now he’s heading up SongTunes.

  AJ: Lucky me. [smiling] Nathan is a good businessman, but he should be on Wall Street, not Music Row.

  Greg Leininger headed up SongTunes when I signed with them after Mountain Music. He’s a great man, an industry leader, and a friend of artists everywhere. I’m going to miss him.

  Scott: Working with a record label is more complicated than people realize.

  AJ: Much more. Why do you think so many artists create their own labels, forge their own distribution deals? Aside from the money aspect, artists want to create music their way. Not according to drive-time market surveys and packaging. For the label trying to make money, it’s all about a commercial product. And if no one in promotions, marketing, or radio thinks a record is commercial, it doesn’t go out the door. Even if your name is Aubrey James or Toby Keith.

  Connie: When she came out fighting on her second album, it shocked me. Who is this girl? I knew then her career would go into the stratosphere. So I called Zach Roberts and asked him to take over management. I went back to substitute mom.

  AJ: Which I needed more than a manager, really.

  Scott: How was it to go from a high school basketball player to a country sensation in a matter of a few years?

  AJ: I don’t know. Fun at first. Especially when the money started coming and I realized I could buy about anything I wanted. At the same time, my personal freedoms slipped away. Photographers started following me. My friends gave up on me because I was too busy, or they felt I’d changed too much.

  Several of us got together to play basketball one summer about five years into my career. We picked a public park, but the paparazzi and fans made it impossible to play. That’s why I built a court here. After that day, the friendships really started to fade. Some of them said nasty things that got quoted in the press.

  Scott: Like?

  AJ: Like how I’d changed and thought I was too good for them. Blah, blah. But getting used to the media took some time. The first time I saw a lying headline about me, I flipped.

  Connie: [laughing] Took Zach and me to calm her down.

  AJ: Tabloid and celeb magazines get it right just enough times to make people believe anything could be true.

  Scott: [reading from his notes] Let’s talk about some of your tabloid headliners. Your first major relationship was with Hollywood A-lister Jack Mills.

  AJ: Ah, you had to go and ruin a good morning interview, didn’t you? [laughing]

  Scott: Sorry, but I’m reading from my notes here. It says, “Go for the jugular.”

  AJ: [pointing to his cheek] Looks like you already tried . . . with someone.

  Scott: Yeah, well, didn’t see it coming . . .

  AJ: So what do you want to know about Jack?

  Scott: Everything, of course. What happened? How old were you when you met?

  AJ: I was twenty-two. Knew it all, of course. We met in LA at Vance Piedmont’s party for his next indie film. Jack played the lead, and Vance wanted me to sing the theme song written by Diane Kennedy. Of course, who wouldn’t want to record a Diane Kennedy song? It became my biggest hit. Won a Grammy for Best Song. The same year, I was nominated for Top Female Vocalist, but didn’t win.

  Jack was, and is, incredibly charming and handsome. He swept me off my feet with his dimpled chin and sparkling brown eyes. I never knew what hit me. The night we met, we sat in the corner of Vance’s living room, curled on the couch like a couple of old high school friends, and made fun of the drunks. We laughed until we couldn’t breathe.

  But I was on tour and had to leave the next day for Sacramento. It was torture for my poor twenty-two-year-old heart. I’d fallen in love with Jack, or so I thought. I cried when I had to leave. But got myself together for the show. Then, right before the last number, Jack walked out on stage with a red rose.

  The place went nuts. Absolutely nuts. Despite everything else about our relationship, that is one of my all-time favorite touring memories. He was so classy, not like Car and his— [stopping] Pardon me. Rafe, please back up over that last line.

  Rafe: Sure, Aubrey.

  Scott: What’d Jack do?

  AJ: Walked out on stage, handed me a rose, kissed my cheek, and walked off waving to the fans. If I wasn’t in love before, I was then. He stayed on the tour with me for two weeks before going back to LA. He was my first big love.

  By then,
we were a discovered couple, and the paparazzi went berserk over us. Thus began the wild, two-year relationship of Jack Mills and Aubrey James.

  Scott: Why’d it end?

  AJ: Jack lived life by a different set of rules. Let me tell you. He’d do these really fun things like spend thousands of dollars to surprise me by flying in from wherever he was filming to wherever I was touring. Or show up here in Nashville out of the blue.

  He’d lavish me with expensive jewelry and gifts, flowers. Food would be catered in for a romantic dinner. In those days, I still lived with Connie, so he’d book a suite at the Vanderbilt Loews and play out this incredibly romantic, larger-than-life Don Juan-type of hero. Then he’d have to go back to work, and I’d be heartbroken.

  Connie: It was murder watching her go through it. But none of us could talk any sense into her.

  AJ: [knocking her head] Always did have to learn the hard way. It was during one of these fly-in-romance episodes he asked me to marry him. I was so in love, so naïve, I thought we were perfect for each other. Until I decided to surprise him for once.

  He was filming in New York City so I called his assistant and made arrangements for food, flowers, candles, a carriage ride in the park. The works. He’d broken his watch during a fight-scene rehearsal, so I bought him a new one from Tiffany’s. Even bought matching his-and-her monogrammed robes.

  Scott: I’m getting the feeling it didn’t go well.

  AJ: [shaking her head, rolling her eyes] Not at all. Oh gosh, it makes me sick just thinking about it. I was scheduled for my first Barbara Walters interview about this time, but after New York, I cancelled and really started avoiding the press.

  Scott: Pretend I’m Barbara Walters. What would you have said to me back then about you and Jack?

  AJ: [laughing] Pretend you’re Barbara Walters? Not even Walt Disney had that much imagination.

  Scott: Oh, I see how it is. [laughing] What happened with Jack?

  AJ: Let’s just say when I walked into his suite, he wasn’t alone.

  Scott: How’d you get in the room, then?

  AJ: His assistant let me in. She thought he was going over lines with his costar.