“Okay.” Erika smirked. “But you sure seem happier these past few days. You were dancing in the kitchen just now, and I heard you singing in the shower the last two mornings. You never used to do that.”
“I guess maybe I am. Huh?” She smiled.
The timer on the oven dinged. She pulled out the hot pan and set it on the counter.
“By the way, you sounded really good.”
Riley ignored her and transferred cookies to the paper towels.
“You never told me about being on Chart Toppers. I mean, I heard rumors flying around school when I first started, but I never watched the show. I didn’t know you during that time, and when we first met, I was so wrapped up with my parents’ divorce and trying to survive at a new school that I never bothered to check it out online.”
With her head low and eyes averted, Riley said softly, “I always figured you did, but never said anything, to be nice.”
“Nope. The one time I asked you what the kids were talking about when they called you a reject, you said you didn’t want to talk about it. I guess I was pretty self-absorbed back then.”
“You were exactly what I needed. Someone who didn’t pry into my life.”
Riley brought the plate of cookies and a bowl of frosting to their tiny kitchen table. Erika followed and they sat.
“The show was a disaster. I went in there with all these bright hopes and dreams. I used to sing all the time. Ever since I was a little girl. My mom would go to the bar. She’d bring me along sometimes and when the band took a break, she’d put me on the little stage to sing. I guess I sounded pretty good to all those drunks.”
“I bet you did,” Erika commented.
“So when we heard that Chart Toppers was holding auditions in Chicago, my mom signed me up. You can’t help but get all wrapped up in the excitement of it. I never expected to go very far. But I kept getting further in the competition. It was crazy. And the further I got, the more pressure there was. My mom started freaking out because she was so sure I’d win the whole thing and we could move to Los Angeles and I’d tour the country. There was so much pressure from the people with the show. I started to get so freaked out, and by the end I knew I was going to get kicked off. When I did, I cried.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. It had been so embarrassing. She had ruined everything.
“I looked like this big crybaby who got sent home. And I totally deserved it.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t like that,” Erika said.
“It felt like it, and then back at home, the kids were so cruel. They’d hum my last song whenever I’d walk by. I started wearing earbuds and pretending I couldn’t hear them, but I did. They assumed I thought I was better than them. But I never thought that.”
Granted, she’d seen a new type of life that she really liked. The idea of living in a nice place that wasn’t above a bar or in a crime-ridden neighborhood was very appealing.
“I wanted to quit school, but my mom made me go. She was so mad I didn’t make it further on the show. So I quit everything else, including choir. I stopped hanging out with my friends when I found a couple of them making snide comments about me behind my back. And I stopped singing. It took until the next fall when I started high school and met you before things calmed down.”
“One misfit finds another,” Erika offered.
“No. You were my salvation. I don’t think I could have gotten through high school without you.”
“Aw, thanks. Here, have a cookie.”
Riley took the cookie and smiled through a bite. She knew Erika was a true friend—one who wouldn’t let her down.
36
Later that night, after Riley made sure that Jamie Halloway and her band members and team were fed dinner and had oohed and aahed over her cookies, she got the okay to leave.
She couldn’t wait to meet up with Garrett and see what tonight might bring. But every studio she checked was occupied with an artist or group working.
Finally, she found Garrett and Tara in the reception area. Tara should have gone home by now, but instead she lounged on the couch, leaning into every word Garrett said.
“There you are,” Riley said.
Tara frowned at her arrival.
“I’m sorry, did I interrupt anything?” Riley asked, ’cause it sure looked like she had, and this was supposed to be her time with Garrett.
“Nope. Just waiting for you,” he replied, apparently clueless to Tara’s signals.
“Sorry it took me so long; I was looking for you everywhere but here.”
“You gonna wear that all night?” Tara asked, indicating Riley’s ridiculous Christmas tree sweater. Garrett chuckled.
“Oh God, no. I’m so used to wearing this thing, I forget I have it on.” She pulled the sweater off over her head and dropped it on the couch.
“It’s a full house tonight. What do you want to do?” Garrett asked.
“I was wondering about that. I’m not sure.”
“You could work here in the reception area,” Tara offered. “I’d love to listen in and watch a music producer at work.”
Did Tara not realize how obvious she was? But who was Riley to stand in Tara’s way of hitting on Garrett?
“No, we need privacy.” He tapped on his guitar case, thinking. “Does this place have a rooftop?”
“Yeah,” Tara answered. “But it’s an ugly flat roof with utility boxes.”
“How do I get up there? I want to check it out.”
“It’s this way. I’ll show you.” Tara popped to her feet.
“While you do that, I’ll go put this away,” Riley said, picking up the sweater.
By the time Riley returned with her handbag, Tara was back in the lobby holding her purse.
“Garrett said you should join him on the roof. He just took some folding chairs up.” She looked at Riley as if she wanted to say more.
“Thanks. See you tomorrow,” Riley called, kind of happy to see her go.
Riley climbed the dusty stairwell to the roof. Sound Sync Studio was a mile west of downtown, and the buildings were a lot smaller. The rooftop of the three-story building was flat, with some huge gray mechanical boxes humming loudly. The edge of the building was framed by a brick facade.
She spotted Garrett at the far corner, pulling his guitar out of its case. The rooftop was illuminated by the glow of nearby neon street signs, along with the full moon.
“Interesting place to work.” She slid a folding chair closer.
“I picked the furthest spot from the noise of the air-conditioning unit.” He strummed a tune she recognized from the night before. “You wouldn’t believe some of the places we would warm up or meet when we were on the road. When it got too hard to go to any place public, we visited many a rooftop, basement, or equipment room.”
“I would have thought it was all VIP rooms with champagne and fancy hors d’oeuvres.”
He laughed. “Not usually. Our tour rider included things like pizza rolls, Mountain Dew, and Cheez Whiz. Of course, my mom always insisted on a veggie and fruit tray, but I was more of a red licorice guy.”
She tried to imagine Garrett with his brothers, so young and yet so hugely successful. “Sounds like fun.”
“It was,” he said thoughtfully.
“Do you miss it?”
“Every day.” He looked down at the gritty texture of the roof, as if talking about the past caused him pain.
“So why did the band break up?”
His jaw clenched. He didn’t answer right away.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I assumed you already checked the internet for that answer.”
Riley cringed, guilty as charged. “I did. But there were a few different theories. I wondered which one was true.”
“Bottom line, Peter and Adam wanted a break. They said they were tired of all the constant travel and lack of free time. They wanted to live their lives, which is what I thought we’d been doing,” he sa
id, his tone cynical. He sighed and looked dejected.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t get a choice in the matter?”
“No, not really. I mean, they called a band meeting and laid everything out. I argued all the reasons we needed to keep going, like the fans, the commitments, the love of the tour, but it was two against one.”
“That sucks.”
“Yes, it does.”
His fingers picked out a tune she hadn’t heard before. The lyrical music filled the late summer night. She watched, mesmerized, as he lost himself in the piece, and transported her to a beautiful place.
He ended the song. Riley wished they could hang out all night so she could listen to him play.
“So why did you quit?” he asked, startling her back to reality. “You asked why I stopped performing. It’s only fair I ask you why you did.”
“I got voted off the show. You know that.”
“That’s a copout, and you know it.”
“Um, no. It’s not.” Why did she suddenly feel on the defense?
“But that was five years ago. Clearly you have a natural talent, you spend your days surrounded by music. What’s the deal?”
Riley sighed. First Erika and now Garrett. This was entirely too much talking about her past for one day.
“Being on the show was really hard for me. I wasn’t prepared for the stress and criticism. Week after week it wore me down. And my mentor, Desiree Diamond, was neurotic and controlling. One day she’d be all helpful and reassuring, then the next she’d criticize everything I did from the way I sang to how I smiled.”
“I heard she’s been in rehab three times,” he said.
“I wouldn’t doubt it. I loved classic rock like the Graphite Angels, the Stones, and Aerosmith, but the producers wouldn’t let me sing any of those songs. Instead Desiree picked out these stupid outdated pop songs, most of which I’d never heard of. A choreographer tried to teach me dance moves. That was a joke. It was like teaching a giraffe how to roller skate.”
Garrett laughed and she smiled despite herself.
“Well, I failed, that’s for sure. Basically I had a nervous breakdown on live TV.”
“You were too young,” he said matter-of-factly.
“That’s what Jason Edgette said, too. That I was too young and wasn’t ready yet. I was so mad, because I really wanted to perform, but looking back, he was totally right.”
At the time it broke her heart.
“It was the hardest, most embarrassing time of my life. The press went crazy. My picture was in magazines and all over the net. Here I was, this middle school kid who wanted to follow her dream and instead, I crushed it to smithereens on national TV.”
“Sounds like you have a classic case of post-traumatic stress syndrome. And now you’ve got yourself stuck recording with me,” he said.
“Pretty much sums it up.”
“You must hate me,” he said as if realizing it for the first time.
She smiled weakly, but didn’t say anything.
“You’re not even going to deny it?”
“I like to see you suffer.” She grinned.
“Yeah, I’ve figured that one out.” He laughed. “I’ll help you get back your courage little by little.” He strummed his guitar again, sending low hollow notes into the air.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”
“It’s just stage fright.”
“Just stage fright?” She glared.
“That’s right. It’s mind over matter.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
37
A couple days later, Riley stepped off the Marina Towers elevator onto the fifty-second floor to meet with Garrett at Brad Stone’s condo. She’d gazed up at these two unusual towers her entire life. They anchored the edge of State Street and the Chicago River like old-fashioned beacons, or giant corncobs, as she’d always thought. She followed the oddly curved hallway, passing door after door until suddenly she spotted Garrett standing in an open doorway, barefoot, wearing jeans and a simple white T-shirt.
“You found it,” he said with a relaxed smile.
“This is really cool up here.”
“Wait till you see the inside.” He stepped aside to allow her entry.
The first thing she noticed was the gleaming marble floor; the second, a baby grand in the corner by a massive bank of windows. “Wow, this is Brad Stone’s place? Not bad!” She ran her hand over a granite table in the entryway. She noticed a coffee table with papers strewn across it and Garrett’s guitar on a leather couch in the living room as if he’d laid it down as she arrived.
“Want to see the view?”
“Yeah.”
They stepped outside onto a crescent-shaped balcony overlooking the city. A warm breeze blew and the sun shined bright. Riley could see for miles in each direction. She held on to the railing and looked straight down to the street.
“Is this where you and Brad climbed?”
Garrett nodded.
“You are nuts.”
“It’s definitely not a trick I plan to repeat.”
She took in the view for a minute. She had to admit that the idea of being totally alone with Garrett in his apartment unnerved her a little bit. It took private to a new level. “Why are we meeting here?”
“Two reasons.” He opened the door and they went back inside. “One, there was no available rehearsal space at the studio, and, two, I thought it was time we brought in a vocal coach.”
Her head snapped around. “I thought I was doing fine.”
“You are, but you can do a lot better. Recording these songs isn’t like sitting around with a guitar for a sing-a-long. It’s about nailing every single note.”
How many times had she heard those words, you can do better, back on Chart Toppers? They’d analyzed and criticized every detail about her from where she took a breath, to how much mascara to put on a young girl.
“I know what it takes. If you don’t think I’m good enough, why did you pressure me so much to record?”
“Relax, would you? Don’t you want to put out a great record?”
“Of course.”
But if she had her way, she wouldn’t put out any record. They might have started to get along better, but her feelings on the topic hadn’t changed. She was tolerating this process only because she needed the money. As soon as the record was done, so was she. Maybe having the experience of recording would be enough to finally get her a seat at the control board at work.
“Then stop fighting me at every turn and get to work.”
Her jaw clenched. All the progress they’d made in the friendship department went right out the window.
“I’ve been working my ass off seven days a week if you include all my hours at Sound Sync.”
“And you’re going to need to work even harder, because this is just the beginning.”
A knock sounded at the door. They glared at each other.
“Fine. Bring in your snotty know-it-all voice coach, but don’t expect me to like it.” Riley headed for the balcony door.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“What? Afraid I’m going to jump? ’Cause it’s tempting.”
The knock sounded again.
“You better go answer the door!” she called, and escaped to the privacy of the balcony.
Why did he have to be such a jerk all the time? She could picture Garrett and his crony dissecting her and every little thing she did.
She remembered those sessions on Chart Toppers like it was yesterday. Every week she’d meet with Desiree Diamond and one of the show’s vocal coaches, and it was always the same thing.
“You’re too timid.”
“You have to step it up.”
“Each performance you need to be better.”
Desiree would perch on a stool, with her thick makeup and arrogant attitude, drumming her clawlike nails on the piano. Riley could never satisfy the woman. If Riley sang out, they told her
to hold back. If she sang softly, they said she lacked emotion.
The vocal coach preached at her and she’d try to do everything he said, but on performance day, Desiree would contradict everything Riley’d been taught.
She gripped the balcony wishing she could fly away. Maybe that’s why Garrett climbed it. He was trying to escape his life. But what he had to escape from, she couldn’t imagine.
Garrett opened the door and peeked out. “You ready to play nice?”
“As long as you do.” She stepped past him into the condo.
A fortyish-looking woman with her messy brown hair clipped on top of her head and dangling earrings set her bag next to the piano. She glanced up as Riley appeared.
“Hi, you must be Riley,” she welcomed, not looking nearly as terrorizing as Riley imagined. “I’m Ginny Potts.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“I understand that you’re Garrett’s guinea pig on his first attempt at record producing.”
Riley frowned. She hadn’t thought of it that way before. Heck, he didn’t know what he was doing any more than she did, so why was she allowing him so much power over her?
“You don’t have to make it sound so bad,” Garrett said. “And I wouldn’t exactly call it my first attempt at producing. I do have a couple of gold records under my belt.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. It’s my first time producing.”
Ginny grunted with satisfaction.
“I’ve worked with Garrett and his brothers on all their albums. You could say I’ve known him since he was a snot-nosed kid, except that he’s still kind of a snot.”
Riley liked Ginny better all the time.
Garrett rolled his eyes. “Ginny has worked with all kinds of successful artists, including Jason Edgette.”
“You know Jason?” Riley asked.
“I sure do. He’s a great guy and an amazing artist.”
“He was my favorite when I was on Chart Toppers. He’s always been so nice to me.”
“I called Jason and told him I was meeting with you today. He had only good things to say. Right now he’s on tour in Europe with his wife. He says hi.”
“You’re still in contact with Jason Edgette?” Garrett asked Riley in disbelief.
Under the Spotlight Page 16
