Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  Toronto Collection, Volume Two

  Heather Wardell

  Smashwords Edition

  http://www.heatherwardell.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should visit your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Before You Begin This Collection

  Live Out Loud

  Blank Slate Kate

  Finding My Happy Pace

  All At Sea

  Acknowledgements

  Also By Heather Wardell

  Before You Begin This Collection

  Have you read my free novel, "Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo"? It starts my "Toronto series" of loosely connected books, so if you haven't read it yet, I suggest you pick it up first! You can pick it up at your favorite retailer.

  After that, you might want my "Toronto Collection Volume One", which is also available at the link above and contains books 2-5 in the series. (You can of course buy the books individually, but the collection is cheaper!)

  The collection you're reading right now is Volume Two, which contains the next four novels in the series:

  "Live Out Loud": Songwriter Amy wants to honor her late best friend by starting the support center for teenage girls they'd planned when they were just girls themselves. When her song becomes an internet sensation she sees how to get the money she needs, but soon realizes she adores her new pop star career. She must choose: create the center she needed herself as a teen or truly become Misty Will, pop princess.

  "Blank Slate Kate": Waking up with a strange man is scary. Realizing you lost fifteen years of your life overnight? That's terrifying. With her memories from seventeen to thirty-two gone, Kate has no idea who she is and where she belongs. As she begins to fall for the man who found her, she wonders if she forgot those years for a reason. Should she keep trying to retrieve her original self, or start a new life?

  "Finding My Happy Pace": If thirty-year-old Megan were any more of a doormat, she'd have footprints on her back. She takes up running to strengthen her body, but marathon training with cute but heartbroken coach Andrew strengthens her assertiveness too. When her best friend's demands threaten her race Megan must decide: cave in as she always has before or stick to her new-found 'happy pace' in running and life.

  "All At Sea": Three months after they met, Melissa will marry Owen on his family's annual cruise. He's a great catch, though, so although they're moving fast she's sure they'll be fine. But when he proves to be a gambler and deserts her for the onboard casino, she wonders if she really knows him and if their marriage will meet her needs. Melissa must decide: stay with Owen or jump ship.

  As of October 2012 I have three more books in the Toronto series in progress, with ideas for many more. I'd love to hear what you think of my work, so please feel free to visit me at http://www.heatherwardell.com and send me an email. You can also find me at http://www.facebook.com/heather.wardell.author (where you can have your say on future covers and titles if you'd like).

  Happy reading!

  Heather

  LIVE OUT LOUD

  Chapter One

  I roared into the last chorus of the best song I'd ever written, slamming ahead with everything I had to give, and wished I could stop time and stay right there forever. Being on that stage felt a thousand times wilder than the craziest roller coaster, a million times more exciting than sex, better than anything I could imagine, and I didn't want it to be over. Neither did my audience, from what I could see with the stage lights blazing in my eyes and refracting off my hot pink fake eyelashes.

  But it had to end, of course, because nothing that good could last forever, so I sang, nearly shrieked, the final "Live out loud!", and the band cut off in perfect unison as I threw my head back in triumph.

  The crowd burst into applause and cheers, and I shaded my eyes with my hand and grinned at them. "What?" I said into the microphone. "Did you like that or something?"

  Further cheers, and I couldn't help laughing because I'd never felt so alive. "Me too, my friends, me too."

  I turned to look for my cousin Blake, knowing what I'd see, and sure enough he had his ever-present camera up. I'd never understood how his girlfriend Evelyn could stand his capturing every instant of their lives on video, but then maybe as a blogger herself she didn't mind it. I would enjoy seeing a recording of this performance, if only to get a good laugh at my costume.

  I blew him kisses with both hands, then told the crowd, "I can't thank you enough for being here. The best birthday present ever. But hold on for a few minutes, okay? I'll be right back. Gotta get changed."

  They laughed as I tugged at the impossibly short pink miniskirt I wore. It had been Giselle's in high school, and I'd known I had to wear it to sing this first song. "Out Loud" was about her, after all, so I'd needed her up on the stage with me, needed her strength and determination.

  Unfortunately, to wear her skirt well I also needed to be a good four inches shorter and ten pounds smaller.

  Still, it had entertained the audience. I left the stage, wobbling on my unfamiliar high heels and grinning at the memory of their shocked faces when I walked out in the tiny skirt with a matching hot pink wig and a black bra showing beneath the sheer leopard-print top I'd found at a thrift store to tie the whole mess together. A long way from my typical jeans-and-t-shirt outfits, but that was why I'd done it. Tonight I was a long way from who I usually was and I couldn't have been happier.

  Though I knew everyone was waiting, I gave myself one moment to breathe before changing and going back out. I'd sung in public before, but never like this. Never in a bar, never for an audience of over a hundred, and never for so many friends-of-friends and friends-of-friends-of-friends. Never on my twenty-fifth birthday.

  And of course, never to launch my first CD.

  I stood savoring the glowing warmth of finally finally finally reaching a goal I'd set for myself. It had been twenty-five years coming, but for once in my life I could say I'd done something I'd planned. I'd decided six months ago to make a CD of my own songs by my birthday and I'd done it. Tonight celebrated and commemorated it.

  And next I could—

  No. Not tonight. I didn't need to think about the center and how I would get it running tonight. This was my time. The goal I'd shared with Giselle, which I was at last capable of completing alone in her honor, could wait until tomorrow. She would have understood. She'd understood everything about me. I'd never have a friend like her again, and I'd given up trying to find one. The crowd out there were my acquaintances but only Giselle had been a true friend.

  I quickly freed my head from the itchy wig and changed into jeans and a t-shirt then glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair tumbled about my face in a post-wig tangle, my wildly overdone makeup hadn't survived the stage lights, and my fake eyelashes looked ridiculous, but none of that mattered. My eyes were on fire, burning with a passion I'd never seen in them before. All that mattered was the music. My music. And the people who wanted to hear it.

  I went out and shared it with them, and with myself, until my throat was sore.

  *****

  When I woke up after noon, I lay in bed luxuriating in the great memories, replaying the delight I'd experienced onstage and the hours at the bar afterward selling all fifty of the CDs I'd brought and giving out t
ons of homemade postcards explaining where to buy the music electronically and accepting endless good-natured teasing about my ridiculous stage outfit and congratulations and compliments for my songs and the party itself. My launch plan, which I'd spent hours on and reviewed so many times I knew it as well as my lyrics, had gone off without a hitch.

  At the moment, though, my favorite memory was having included 'book off work the day after launch' in the plan. I was a barely adequate waitress at the best of times, and since I'd been up until five in the morning because I was too wired to sleep today wouldn't be the best of times, especially since Tuesday was 'Seniors' Day' at the Setherwood Café and I didn't get along well with seniors. Funny, since my parents were both in that age group.

  I rolled over, snuggling into my comforter, and pulled my mind away from the job that made me money to instead think about how I wanted to use that money. A bit to live on, of course, but I had far bigger dreams for the rest. Giselle and I had dreamed of starting a center, a place where confused and lost teenage girls could find themselves and become confident women, and now that I'd reached my CD goal I would succeed at the important goal, the one that really mattered to me. Having made my very own CD was nice, but the whole point of the CD project had really been learning how to push and motivate myself so I'd be able to figure out how to make the center happen.

  But at the moment I didn't want to figure anything out. I wanted to enjoy my triumph. So I did. I stayed in my cozy bed and relived my night until I was too hungry to stay put any longer.

  Wishing Jason was home so I could beg him to get me food, I crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Thinking of my absent boyfriend brought my mood down a few notches. Of all the times to have to go to Dubai for a meeting! I'd so wanted him at my launch party, but he'd said there was nothing he could do.

  Sadness threatened to overwhelm me, but I started singing "Out Loud", right there in the kitchen, and my lyrics pushed it away. Jason would be back soon and everything would be fine.

  Once I'd pulled myself back together, I made toast and microwaved some soup then fired up my laptop so I could check email while I ate and see if I'd received any more congratulations.

  My inbox appeared, and I dropped my spoon into the bowl, barely noticing as I splashed my pajama top with tomato soup.

  Six hundred and seventeen new messages?

  If I got seventeen in a day, it was unusual. Who'd sent the other six hundred?

  The first few seemed to have been written by monkeys with a few broken fingers.

  That song rocks but teh others r crap.

  can u giv me free cd? kthnxbai.

  Pnk grrl, i luvs u.

  But the fourth, while easier to read, was even harder to comprehend.

  Gorgeous song and great performance. Please contact me regarding contract opportunities.

  I didn't recognize the sender's name, but the signature referenced Griffer Records. How had they, one of the best record labels in Toronto, heard of me?

  I didn't get that question answered until I'd waded through about fifteen more monkey-style emails.

  Amethyst, call me. Call me before you talk to anyone else. You're going to be huge and Sapphire Angel is perfect for you.

  The signature file said, "Jo. Sapphire Angel Music," like she was Cher or Britney, too famous for a little detail like a last name. But I was more interested in the email that had been forwarded to her, which she'd left in her email to me.

  Jo, check out this video. We should grab her ASAP. Nancy.

  I clicked the video link, which took me to a music blog I knew well since it belonged to Blake's girlfriend Evelyn, and was soon watching myself dancing and singing in that inane hot pink outfit. I'd hoped Evelyn might mention my CD on her blog but she'd never offered and I hadn't wanted to ask her to do it. She'd been home sick with a cold last night, and Blake must have emailed her the video while I was changing my clothes because she'd posted it before I'd even finished the concert, along with a link to my web site.

  My web site. Maybe this attention would score me a few downloads.

  Try a few hundred thousand downloads.

  I stared at the hit counter for a shocked moment, then logged into the payment system Jason had set up for me and stared at the thousands of dollars I'd already received for downloads of my songs, mostly from "Out Loud". Then I checked my page on the do-it-yourself site where I'd published the physical CD and stared at multiple reviews saying some variation of, "That song rocks but teh others r crap." Then I stared at my kitchen table.

  What the hell was going on? Did Evelyn have that big an audience?

  I began an Internet search on myself, feeling weirdly egotistical, and soon understood. Evelyn's blog had barely two hundred followers, but her post had been reposted on several huge music news sites, and from there it had spread like glitter in the wind. Everywhere I looked, every music industry site I could find, had either the original post or a mention of its huge popularity with of course a link to the original.

  I had gone viral.

  Chapter Two

  As I sat, too stunned to move, my ancient cell phone rang. Jason and I had fortunately set up my web site with only my email address on the contact page, which meant rabid fans and hungry producers probably hadn't found my number yet, so I answered the call.

  "Amy, this is unbelievable."

  "Yeah. Um, who is this?"

  She laughed. "Evelyn. Sorry, I thought you'd recognize Blake's number."

  I didn't have call display, but that didn't matter. "I'm so glad you called. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

  "Have coffee with me."

  "That'll solve all my problems?"

  She laughed again. "You don't have any problems. Not any more. Meet me at Starbucks at Yonge and King in an hour?"

  A quick shower and a few hundred emails deleted later, I sat sipping a cinnamon latte when Evelyn arrived. "Good job on the outfit," she said as she sank into the chair across from mine. "Nobody would recognize you."

  I blinked. I'd worn my oldest and most comfortable sweatshirt and jeans, with my hair in a ponytail, but not for camouflage. I'd simply wanted the familiarity of my favorite clothes.

  "Ooh." She leaned in to inspect me. "You might want to wear sunglasses, though. Blake had a good close-up in that video and your eyes stand out."

  One of them did, anyhow. My eyes were green, but the right had a large brown splotch covering nearly half the green. I'd hated it as a kid, since my classmates had called me "poopy-eye" and other such charming names, but my first boyfriend, in grade ten, had loved my unusual eyes and I'd picked up his attitude. I nodded. "Sunglasses from now on. Got it. What else?"

  She leaned back in her chair and pressed a hand to her mouth, clearly deep in thought.

  I waited a few seconds, then an unpleasant thought struck me. "You don't know, do you? You don't know any more than I do."

  "I know a bit more than you." She sighed. "But not much. Let's face it, I've never had someone take off like this. We have to make sure we get the most out of it."

  I frowned. "We?"

  "Of course. This is the start of your music career, and it'll also send my blog straight to the top."

  The start of my "music career" had been the second day of high school when my music teacher had assigned us all to make up a short song in a week. I'd barely touched my piano in the year since I'd quit my lessons because I hated the teacher's rigid rules, but I went home annoyed by such a stupid assignment and figuring I'd get it over with fast so I set to work right away.

  When I began picking out the first tune, though, I could immediately hear what had to come next, and next and next, and I'd still been sitting there, surrounded by scribbled pages of music, when my parents came home from their bridge group at nine o'clock that night. I'd taken seven finished songs to school the next day, one of which had become the new official school song.

  That assignment had changed my life. I'd restarted my piano lessons and also started
taking singing lessons, with teachers who let me improvise and work on my own songs while still improving my technique. I'd switched from Spanish into a poetry class so I could write words for my music, which was where I'd met Giselle. And I'd spent as much time as I could lost in the music and lyrics in my head.

  I would never stop making songs, because I adored them, but I'd also never considered making a career from them. The CD was the culmination of a huge goal, not the beginning of something else, and really I'd only done it to prove to myself I could finish what I started. Evelyn didn't know any of that, and I couldn't find the words to explain it, or to say that I didn't want to be the rocket fuel for her blog.

  She didn't seem like she'd hear me anyhow. Her eyes were on fire with the same energy I'd felt on-stage. "Which producers have contacted you?"

  I tried to remember the names, then shook my head. "It's been a crazy day. I'm sorry. I'll check my email at home and let you know."

  She pulled a tiny computer from her purse. "Check it now."

  I shrugged, and pecked away at the minuscule keys until I'd found and named all the relevant email senders.

  "Sapphire Angel." No doubt in her voice. "Jo is a legend. She'll be perfect for us."

  Us?

  *****

  I stood outside the fancy restaurant Jo had chosen feeling like a car with no brakes.

  Evelyn had insisted I call Jo right there in Starbucks, Jo had insisted we meet for a late dinner that very night at "the best restaurant in Toronto", and I'd spent the last few hours calling and emailing people who'd all insisted this was the best thing that could ever happen to me. Even my parents, when I finally reached them at their retirement community in Florida, had watched the video while I waited on the phone and then Dad said, "Opportunities like this don't come along every day, Amethyst. Go for it. Make all those music lessons worthwhile."