Diva NashVegas

by Rachel Hauck

  Laughing, I give her thumbs-up. “You got it.”

  “Aubrey, you don’t have to give me things,” Jen says, with a voice I recognize from her e-mail.

  “I know. But I want to, Jen.” I pause. “I’m glad you know. I hope we can keep our friendship.”

  Jen shakes her head. “You’ll always be Myra Ray, my big sister.”

  My eyes water. “You’ll always be Jen Sinclair, my little sister.”

  28

  “She kept me close and warm on the coldest night of my life.”

  —Jennifer Sinclair,

  Inside NashVegas interview

  Scott

  “Thanks for doing this, you two.”

  Aubrey and Jen sit with their elbows linked on Aubrey’s couch, waiting for Rafe to fire up the camera.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing an interview with Aubrey James. I mean, last week I didn’t even know you.”

  Aubrey smiles, her countenance peaceful and happy. “Jen, you probably know me better than anyone.”

  “Except me.” I couldn’t resist.

  “Except you, Scott.” Her tone is light, yet mildly sarcastic.

  “Let’s do it,” Rafe says.

  “Oh, I’m nervous.” Jen shivers, looking up at her mom, who’s standing behind the couch.

  Mrs. Sinclair taps her daughter’s shoulders. “You’ll be fine, baby.”

  “Just remember, we’re not live, so we can always stop, go back, do it again.” Aubrey’s instructions are gentle and big-sister like.

  Scott: Aubrey, you have a double life. Tell us about it.

  AJ: What? I don’t have a double life. I had a secret. A foster sister I wrote to using a different name.

  Scott: Why the different name?

  AJ: After my parents died, I was put in foster care for six months until Connie Godwin became my guardian.When I was taken to my foster home, I changed my name to Myra Ray. And I liked it. Scott: Didn’t your friends at school know you as Aubrey James?

  AJ: Yeah, it was weird. But my foster mom acted like it was no big deal. I’m sure I wasn’t the first foster kid to change her name. So, yes, I had two identities for a while. I was trying to hide, yet trying to discover who I was in my postparent world. I hated being identified as an orphaned girl. The cool basketball player was Aubrey James. The orphan was Myra Ray, and not real, if that makes sense.

  Scott: Next to Aubrey is her longtime friend, Jennifer Sinclair. You’ve been exchanging letters and e-mails for many years. Right?

  Jen: Yes, about ten years now, I guess. But I met Aubrey fourteen years ago. I lived with the same foster family. I was six, she was sixteen.

  Scott: Your mother had also been killed.

  Jen: She was murdered by her boyfriend. And I never knew my father. Scott: Murdered. Quite a journey for a six-year-old. Seems a sad set of events brought you two together.

  AJ: Very sad. But I’m realizing more every day, God does work all things together for good.

  Scott: Jen, do you remember meeting Aubrey the first night?

  Jen: I’ll never forget. She became my lifeline. I crawled into bed with her because I couldn’t sleep. I was frightened and alone, not really sure what was going on. [looking over at Aubrey] She made me feel safe. I thought Mrs. Fetterman, our foster mom, was the meanest lady alive, and I wanted to cling to the pretty girl who’d lost her momma too.

  AJ: Jen broke my heart that first night. She came in clutching a baby doll, her face literally lost behind these round, sad eyes. She sat on the edge of the sofa with her toes pressed to the floor so she wouldn’t slip off. She didn’t say a word, but enormous tears ran down her cheeks.

  Jen: My whole life I’d been told to never go into a stranger’s house or talk to strangers. Now strange people were leaving me in a strange house, telling me how much fun I’d have and how a nice family wanted to help me.

  AJ: Oh my gosh, my heart is breaking all over again. Jen started crying, and no one could console her. Mrs. Fetterman was frantic. It tore all of us up. Finally, Jen wore herself out, and Mrs. Fetterman put her to bed.

  Jen: I didn’t wear myself out. You rocked me to sleep in that big wooden rocker and sang “Jesus Loves Me” a thousand times.

  AJ: Yes, I’d forgotten. [eyeing Jen] How could I forget? Later that night, I woke up with a warm little body snuggling next to me, her fingers wrapped in my hair, her dolly’s fingers gouging my back.

  Jen: I thought you smelled like flowers.

  Scott: Jen, you were eventually adopted by a family member.

  Jen: My mom’s sister and her husband. A year later my uncle got a good job in Oklahoma, so we moved.

  Scott: Aubrey and Jen haven’t seen each other in . . .

  AJ: Thirteen years. But we’ve been writing for ten years.

  Jen: [laughing] But I thought I was writing to Myra Ray.

  Scott: Why didn’t you tell her, Aubrey?

  AJ: When I signed with Mountain Music, Connie took me aside and said, “You need to use your real name. Time to grow up.” She was right. Within a year, my career took off and everyone knew my name. Meanwhile, Jen was still young, and we hadn’t started regular correspondence. By the time she was a teenager, I was a name [rolling her eyes], and being anonymous with Jen felt freeing. So, right or wrong, I decided to hide my identity from her.

  Jen: I like to think your fame wouldn’t have changed our relationship, but I was young and immature, and finding out my sister was a superstar would’ve impacted me negatively, I think. At least for a while.

  Scott: How so?

  Jen: [taking a deep breath] I went through a rebellious stage around sixteen, and I know for certain I would’ve tried to use Aubrey as a way to buck my parents. She would’ve been caught in the middle. The more I think about it, the more I’m glad I didn’t know. Scott: Okay, the cat is out of the bag. The secret is known. How does it change your relationship?

  AJ: On my end, I’m relieved. Jen and I have always talked openly and honestly in our letters except when it came to my career and, of course, actually visiting each other. Now the barriers are gone.

  Jen: Well, it helps to know a world-famous person is reading my personal letters. I mean, gee whiz. [laughing] But it really doesn’t change anything for me other than I can’t go around telling everyone I’m best buds with Aubrey James. [looking at Aubrey] Can I?

  AJ: [wrinkling her nose] I prefer not.

  Jen: See, no fun for me. [smiling] Really, I don’t see anything changing. Maybe get a few passes backstage to her concerts, but that’s it. I promise. Everything else stays the same.

  Mrs. Sinclair: Except for all the free stuff she’s giving you.

  Jen: Mom, shhh.

  AJ: Actually, this is another really great aspect of the truth. Now I can do more for Jen and her family. I didn’t before because I wasn’t sure how much my alter ego should flash her cash.

  But this will make it easier for me to call up and say, “I’m taking a week in the summer to go to the Mediterranean. Want to come?”

  Jen: Yes! Double yes.

  Mrs. Sinclair: Jen, you can’t take advantage of Aubrey.

  Scott: Something tells me Aubrey wouldn’t mind a little sister abuse.

  AJ: [laughing] Probably not. Besides, this is going to be a nationally televised interview. Jen, I guess all your friends are going to find out anyway.

  Jen: Can I say something? Despite everything, the Myra Ray aka Aubrey James I know is an amazing, kind woman who wrapped her heart around a frightened little girl and kept her warm and safe. To me, she’ll always be my hero.

  Scott: Well said, Jen. Thank you.

  The interview segment with Jen ends. She rises from the couch, smiling, hugging her mom. I tap Aubrey on the knee. “You’re not done yet.”

  “Okay, whatever.” Aubrey peers around at Jen. “She’s fab, isn’t she?” “Like her big sister,” I say.

  Scott: Ready for some rapid-fire questions?

  AJ: Sure, whatever that means.

  S
cott: Dogs or cats.

  AJ: [gesturing toward her pets] Dogs, but I do love cats.

  Scott: Summer or winter?

  AJ: Fall.

  Scott: Okay, not the question, but whatever. Chocolate or vanilla?

  AJ: Are you crazy? Definitely chocolate.

  Scott: Leno or Letterman?

  AJ: Oooh, not fair. I do closing song sets on Letterman a lot, so I’ll say Letterman.

  Scott: Reading or television?

  AJ: What is this, “Beat up Aubrey with hard questions”? Um, reading. But I do love old movies.

  Scott: Favorite movie?

  AJ: Notting Hill, The Way We Were, Never Been Kissed, and the indie film Love Like a Rock, which used my song, “Always.”

  Scott: Favorite kind of day?

  AJ: Oh, this I can answer. Fall day. Slightly overcast with the sun filtering through cumulus clouds. A crisp breeze. Walking through fallen leaves with my friends, picturing the bowl of chili that is waiting for me at home.

  Scott: Greatest musical influence?

  AJ: My parents, of course. And my producer, Dave Whitestone. But I’d have to say I really admire Amy Grant. She took some hits for her divorce, but she never lost her faith, unlike some people [pointing to herself] She is an amazing songwriter and performer. I’d love to write and record with her one day.

  Scott: Finish this sentence: “If I could meet anyone, it would be . . .”

  AJ: Dead or alive?

  Scott: “If I could meet anyone, it would be . . .”

  AJ: Okay, okay. Anyone. Cleopatra, or the Queen of Sheba.

  Scott: [grinning] That’s two someones, but I’ll let you slide. Why Cleo and Sheba? AJ: Cleopatra because she sent herself, at twenty-two, to Julius Caesar wrapped in an oriental rug. Sheba, because she exchanged ideas with King Solomon and fell in love.

  Scott: Then why not meet Solomon?

  AJ: I’d rather talk to someone who talked to him. Think about it.

  Six thousand years ago, or however many years, a woman sat down and exchanged intellectual property with the wisest man whoever lived. Pretty amazing.

  Scott: Feminism wasn’t born yesterday, was it?

  AJ: No.

  Scott: Wendy’s or McDonald’s?

  AJ: Can we go back to Solomon and Sheba?

  Scott: No. Answer the question.

  AJ: Burger King, my final answer.

  Scott: What’s on your iPod?

  AJ: Songs.

  Scott: Smart aleck. Whose songs? What kind of songs?

  AJ: Lots of songs. I love to listen to all kinds of music. I recently downloaded Bread’s greatest hits, and Journey’s. My dad loved their sound. I’m digging Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood. They’re two amazing, beautiful artists with a totally different feel and message.

  Let’s see. Kim Hill and Rita Springer. Glen Campbell. What else? Martina’s Timeless CD. I’m jealous she did a concept album like that before me. Maybe she won’t mind if I cover “Rose Garden” again.

  Scott: No show tunes?

  AJ: [laughing] No, not yet.

  Scott: Final question.

  AJ: Promise?

  Scott: Do you want to go on a date with Scott Vaughn?

  AJ: [hesitating] Someday, maybe, yeah, I might.

  29

  “Aubrey James returns to her roots Monday night, August 6, as she joins the Ralph Lester Going Home Gospel Tour. This will be the country legend’s first gospel performance since her parents’ untimely death in ’93.”

  —Brad Schmitt, Brad on 2

  Aubrey

  August 6, Ryman Auditorium

  Scott and Rafe wait for me in the back of the auditorium. Our final interview. As I approach, Scott smiles at me. “Are you going to miss me?”

  I snap my fingers. “How’d you know?”

  He laughs as I slide in to the pew next to him, then asks, “What’s wrong?”

  He knows me too well. “I’m nervous.”

  “More than usual?”

  I nod. “It’s been a while since I sang gospel.”

  He takes my hand in his. “You don’t see yourself as the rest of us do. And I’m pretty sure you don’t see yourself as God does.”

  “Does anybody?”

  He grins. “No, but especially you. Look, forget about labels— gospel, country, rock, whatever. Get up there and believe God will meet you.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I’m glad we did this interview thing. You’ve . . .” I pick an imaginary piece of lint from my black skirt. “You’ve helped me realize a lot of things about myself, good and bad.” I look into his eyes. “I can’t imagine not knowing you.”

  He coughs, covering his mouth with his fist. “See, I told you. You’re going to miss me.”

  Scott

  This is nuts. I can’t fall in love with Aubrey James. Can. Not. It’s been, what? Four weeks since our first interview segment. In which time she ended a relationship and engagement.

  Don’t let your heart go there, Vaughn.

  Aubrey pulls her hand out of mine. “Guess we should get to the interview.”

  I clear my throat and nod. “Right, the interview.”

  Facing the camera, I do a lead-in. “Scott Vaughn for Inside NashVegas. I’m inside the historic Ryman Auditorium with country artist Aubrey James. Join us Mondays at seven a.m. for our exclusive look at this exceptional artist.”

  “Exceptional?” she echoes.

  “My lead-in, my adjectives.”

  She smiles. “I’m not complaining.”

  Scott: Tell me about your first performance at the Ryman.

  AJ: I was eight. The James Family was to be a part of a gospel music celebration at the Ryman.

  Scott: Do you think it played a significant part in your career?

  AJ: Certainly, among other things. But how cool to have the spotlight on the Ryman stage at eight? I mean, how many kids can say that? Or adults, for that matter.

  Scott: How old were you when you sang at the Grand Ole Opry?

  AJ: Nineteen. Right after my first country album came out.

  Scott: What do you remember about your first performance in the Ryman?

  AJ: Popcorn. [laughing] When Daddy brought us to the Ryman, concession was preparing for the evening and the whole place smelled like hot, buttery popcorn. [taking a deep breath] From that moment on, the only thing I could think about was popcorn. I begged and begged him to buy me a bag, but he refused. I’m pretty sure I came within a hairsbreadth of being grounded for life.

  Scott: I was grounded for life a couple of times.

  AJ: Why does that not surprise me? Anyway, we warmed up, did a sound check, and waited to go on, me still pouting over popcorn. I wore a yellow dress with black patent leather shoes . . . and no socks.”

  Scott: No socks.

  AJ: No socks. I wanted to wear stockings, but Momma said no. It was nineteen eighty-five, and she still thought stockings were too grown up for an eight-year-old. So I refused to wear anklets because none of the other ladies were wearing them.

  Scott: See, you’ve been a diva in the making for a long time.

  AJ: Oh my gosh . . . [flicking her wrist] Yeah, you’re probably right.

  Scott: Were you nervous?

  AJ: I can’t remember. Maybe a little. I didn’t understand the magnitude of singing at the Ryman. [stopping to point overhead] Listen. Hear it? The lingering music, the great voices of past performances. Sam Jones preaching. George Hay welcoming listeners to the Grand Ole Opry. That amazing train sound of DeFord Bailey’s harmonica. [smiling] I love this place.

  Scott: I can see why.

  AJ: I forget the incredible history until nights like this when I’m sitting in the quiet sanctuary and history speaks to me.

  A commotion in the back of the auditorium nabs our attention. A tour group tromps along the back of the sanctuary. I motion for Rafe to cut. Several of the tourists notice Aubrey and scurry toward us in a synchronized shuffle.

  “I can’t believe it.” A bubbly teen wit
h a blonde ponytail claps her hands over her cheeks. “Please, can I have your autograph?”

  I’ve been with Aubrey several times now when this happens and her graciousness never fails. She makes the conversation feel like neighbors talking over the fence. I signal for Rafe to video this exchange.

  “What’s your name?” Aubrey asks, poised to sign a Ryman flyer.

  “Caitlyn. With a C.”

  Aubrey smiles. “All right, Caitlyn with a C. Are you coming to the show tonight?”

  “No, we couldn’t get tickets.” The teenager sticks out her lower lip. Aubrey hands back the pad of paper and pen. “Tell you what, why don’t you come as my guests?”

  Caitlyn’s scream rattles the old stained glass. “Really? Mom, can we please?”

  Her mother nods. “Are you sure, Miss James?”

  “Absolutely.” Aubrey pauses. “Unless you need a hundred tickets.”

  The mom laughs. “Four would be fine.”

  “Four I can do. Come to the ticket counter and ask for them in my name.” Aubrey turns to me. “Remind me to tell Piper. She’s backstage.” Others in the group step up for autographs and digital photos. The crowd is small, so Aubrey complies. Posing and signing, chatting all the while.

  Rafe zooms in to capture their faces and banter. The candid moment will add a great touch to our summer interviews, confirming to the world what I’ve been seeing all summer. A beautiful woman with a sincere heart.

  Aubrey talks with the fans, asking questions as if she really cares where they lived, the name of their school and church, and how they liked Nashville. She’s nonplussed by their effusive accolades. When the younger fans clear away, clutching their autographs, chatting a mile a minute, a few older ones step up, quietly telling Aubrey they remember her parents.

  “Thank you. It’s comforting to talk with people who loved their music.”

  An older, statuesque woman hangs back, eyeing Aubrey from the tip of her raised nose. Her expression causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise.

  Aubrey is ending a conversation with a twenty-something woman. “We’re in the studio this summer working on a new album. It’s different from what I’ve been doing, so I hope the fans will like it.”

  “I own all your albums,” the woman admits with a small laugh. “I’m sure I’ll own the new one too.”