by Laura Carter
Melissa offered her warm smile again and reached forward to take Rosalie’s hand. ‘I think you have a lot of love to give, Rosalie. In my experience, the main thing a child needs is love. We all get things wrong. There’s no rule book. But if you love a child, they’ll forgive you for needing to work it out.’
Rosalie nodded. She did have love to give. And she had time. Time she wanted to be filled with unconditional love. Maybe Melissa was right. She could do this. She would be a good mom.
Melissa sat back on the sofa. ‘Practically speaking, you have the means to give a child a good life too. I’d say the only thing you need to do is find the right daddy.’
‘This all feels very surreal.’
‘But exciting, too. Now, would you like more tea? Do you have any more questions? If not, we can get your DNA testing started.’
‘Mmm, I do have one question. About the, erm, the…’ Rosalie felt her cheeks blaze.
‘Conception?’ Melissa asked, taking the words out of Rosalie’s mouth.
Rosalie nodded, pleased not to have to enquire about the birds and the bees aloud.
‘Well, that’s really up to you and the father. You should discuss what each of you would be comfortable with when the time comes. One option is for the man to effectively act as a donor. I have had couples use IVF so that they could choose the sex of the baby – some people feel precious about continuing family traditions. Or, you could use a surrogate.’
‘Oh, no, I think I want to, you know, have the full experience.’
‘Most women do. The other option for heterosexual couples, of course, is to do things the conventional way.’
‘You mean… have sex?’
‘That’s what I would call conventional. What I would suggest is that you include your preference in the values test I send you home with. There is a section dealing with conception and gestational preferences. Of course, I would encourage you to remain open to Daddy’s views, too. The one thing we can’t change for you is the gestational period, unfortunately.’
Rosalie laughed. Oh heck, did they just share a baby-making-agency joke?
* * *
Later that night, Rosalie poured herself a cup of rose tea and sat on her sofa with a hard copy of the Swans morals and values test.
Q: What environment would you like your child to be raised in?
A: In the city, perhaps with weekend trips out to the Hamptons. I would like to expose my child to Europe. Trips to Italy, France, Germany.
Q: How would you like your child to be educated?
A: Reputable schools. Ultimately college.
Q: How much screen time would you allow your child?
Rosalie paused with her pen between her lips. Screen time? How on earth was she to know the right answer to that?
She picked up the receiver of her vintage-style landline and dialled Hannah. After explaining the background, Rosalie asked, ‘So, what should I say? I don’t want to give a high number of screen hours so they think I’m not fit to be a parent and I never find a baby daddy. Equally, I figure they have to have some time for, like, development and stuff, right?’
Hannah laughed. ‘Hell if I know, Ros. I have a seventeen-year-old who only leaves his computer games for food and girls. My eleven-year-old stays quiet if I give him an iPad. Sometimes dinosaurs on television make TJ sleep.’
‘So what do you suggest I answer? As much screen time as they want so long as they’re quiet?’
‘If it’s meant to be an honest questionnaire, yeah.’
Rosalie laughed. ‘Thanks for the help, Hannah.’
‘Any time. And Ros, for all our sakes, don’t choose a baby daddy who answers ‘none’ to screen time. In a similar vein, have you thought about how you would make a baby and a recording label work alongside each other? Oh, crap, I’ve got to go, TJ just face-planted trying to crawl.’
12
Andrea
Andrea was sitting in on a marketing meeting being led by her head of marketing, with Tommy Dawson’s management team. Tommy Dawson, whilst publicly stating he would not be leaving his band, was taking some time to focus on a solo album. Andrea had heard some of the sample tracks and what was lacking due to the loss of the band, Tommy made up for with raw and emotional lyrics. In her opinion, it was a stripped-bare example of him and his music. She was more than happy to have him making the solo album under the Stellar label.
They were playing one of his new tracks in the meeting room. She took her coffee from the large oval table where his management team and several of her colleagues were sitting to stand in the window. She watched the clouds slowly glide through the horizon as Tommy sang about making changes to his life.
There had been a time she could have fallen for Tommy. They had always gotten along well, right from the early days. She had enjoyed working with him. More than once they had spent a few weeks ‘together’ and each time had been bliss between the sheets. He lived up to his reputation and then some in that department. When it was just them, lying naked in a hotel bed, their bodies entwined, his fingers gently stroking her skin as he spoke to her, there were moments of real soul to Tommy that did not present in the rock star version of him.
The problem was, Tommy’s rock star persona and Tommy’s real life were a blur and Andrea hadn’t needed a man in her life any of the times they had been together, so had no patience in waiting around for those fleeting moments of tenderness. Their random hook-ups since the last of those few intense weeks had been just that, hook-ups. Great sex until they were exhausted, then a test of will over who could politely leave quickest and get back to the important things in their lives.
But as she listened to his music now, the mellow beauty of the guitar, the slower pace of the tune, the soft husk of his voice, she wondered if he really did want to make changes. More than that, she wondered if it was time for her to make changes too. Starting with getting rid of Hunter.
As Tommy sang about being an innocent child before that innocence died, she wondered when she had changed. How she had gotten from a happy young girl to a sometimes ruthless woman who was capable of having an affair with a married man, the father of one of her best friends?
Could people really change? God, she hoped so. Could she be that smiling little girl again? That, she doubted. Those happy days, before her mom left her, were nothing more than faint memories. Since then, she had seen her father be a drunk, brought up her sister as best she could, taken control of the family business and now brought more responsibility upon herself as the CEO of Stellar.
There was a knock on the meeting room door, which interrupted her self-analysis. Hannah held it open.
‘Hi everyone, this one couldn’t stand you all talking behind his back.’
Tommy Dawson chuckled as he stepped into the room all black jeans, leather jacket and shades, with two large, suited security men in tow.
He glanced around the room, then his eyes fell on Andrea. He took off his shades and his cheekiness creased his bright eyes – noticeably brighter and cleaner than Andrea had seen them for a long time.
‘Bringing out the big guns for me, huh?’ he asked.
Andrea glared at him. ‘Too much of a star to be on time, huh?’
They both laughed and Tommy pulled out a seat at the table. His guard dogs stood like statues at the back of the room. Tommy greeted everyone as he poured himself a glass of water.
In times gone by, Tommy – if he came to a meeting at all – would have slouched in his seat, tapping out a beat with his foot and drumming his fingers on the table top as he wrote a melody in his mind. Then he would have asked for a whiskey on the rocks – a poison he and Andrea could agree on and which they had shared too much of in the past. He would not have taken off his shades, politely conversed with his management team and poured H-2-O. No siree.
Who was this man?
‘Guys, I gotta tell ya,’ Tommy said, ‘This album is my baby. I want to be heavily involved in every aspect of what we’re trying to achieve here
.’
A general chorus of assurance followed.
‘I’ve had a few ideas,’ Tommy continued. He took a small black notebook from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and Andrea almost choked, for one of two reasons.
Either, he was about to share his little black book of women – which didn’t seem big enough to reflect the reality of his one-night stands, unless it contained only the ones he had been sober enough to remember. Or, he was a man who made business notes now. The second option was by far the most shocking.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not as full as my little black book,’ he joked, winking at Andrea as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Despite herself, she smirked.
He was still a rogue but perhaps a redeemable one in this moment.
* * *
Though she hadn’t intended to sit in on the entire meeting, two hours, two coffee runs and a plate of baked goods later, the meeting about Tommy’s solo album drew to close.
Hannah reappeared to show everyone out of the room and to the elevators. Andrea stood at the door, shaking hands as each person passed, as if she were part of a wedding line-up.
Tommy was last to leave. He waved his team off and asked Andrea, ‘You got a sec?’
‘Sure. Do you want to come along to my office? I think this room is booked out.’
They made their way along the corridor, with Tommy’s personal security following closely behind and with Tommy turning the heads of every PA as they walked by. Andrea smiled to herself, remembering the early days, when Thomas Dawson was nothing more than a freeloader, sofa-surfing his friends, including, once or twice, Andrea. Turning up to Sanfia Records in the same pair of track pants day after day alongside his band members. He had been talented then but he didn’t know how good he was as a frontman.
Boy, how times had changed.
It was the remarkable thing about the music industry. Sure, there were mediocre artists, who could sing and play but couldn’t blow anyone away, whose lives never changed much from release to release. They earned a living doing what they loved. They had a steady fan base. Then there were the people like Tommy, who gave up everything to commit to their dream. Who had a spark, something magical in their music, and whose lives were projected by the industry from rock bottom to rock stars.
‘Nice digs,’ Tommy said, when Andrea showed him into her office, his security standing watch like mastiffs in the corridor.
Through the glass panes, the PAs continued to ogle Tommy, until Andrea threw them a scowl that was intended to have the effect of an ice-cold power hose on their horny libidos.
‘Make yourself at home,’ she told him, gesturing to the suede sofas that occupied one half of her office space.
Tommy walked beyond the sofas to the wall of shelves stacked with LPs that Andrea had collected over more than two decades and didn’t have space for in her apartment.
‘Would you like a real drink?’ she asked, moving to the bar table in the corner.
Tommy kept his eyes on the records, pulling out a Jimi Hendrix album, Band of Gypsys, and looking over the track list.
‘No, thanks, I’m trying to cut down,’ he said.
He turned quickly and added, ‘Not stopping. Just keeping it for dark.’
Andrea removed her hand from the bottle of Macallan whisky she had chosen and moved to Tommy’s side.
‘That was his best album,’ she said, nodding to Jimi Hendrix in bright colours on the record cover. ‘“Machine Gun” arguably did more for the industry than the King himself.’
‘Agreed,’ Tommy said, setting the album back on the shelf. ‘These days people take distortion and feedback for granted. Though I probably wouldn’t go around busting Elvis’s ass.’
Andrea smiled with amusement. ‘So, what did you want to see me about?’
‘I wasn’t expecting you to be in the meeting today.’ He moved to sit into one corner of the sofa as he spoke.
‘I hadn’t intended to stay, to be honest.’
Tommy looked around the room they were in, then took in Andrea, in her pencil skirt and tailored blouse, the high heels she had finally gotten used to wearing at work all day. Just as she felt he was scrutinising everything he saw, he shifted his attention to look out of the window, rubbing the gruff of his chin contemplatively.
‘Do you miss being in the studio?’ he asked.
She had been too busy recently to think about being in the studio but whenever she did, she definitely missed working with artists, being creative. More than that, she missed the early days, before she had become so heavily involved in the business management of Sanfia Records, when the big decisions at Sanfia were made by her dad and she was able to focus on the music. When she could turn up to work in jeans, a sweater and sneakers.
She nodded as she came to sit in the opposite corner of the sofa to Tommy. ‘I’m mostly too busy to think about it.’
‘Do you remember those first EPs we made together?’
She nodded again, smiling at the memory of being blown away by Tommy and his band. Back then he had a great sound but it was rough around the edges and he was shaggy looking, unintentionally, not like the polished, intentionally unkempt rock god he was now.
They had spent weeks in the studio, often working into the early hours, collaborating to make the kind of music that Andrea felt in her core.
‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’ Tommy continued.
‘Yeah. Yeah, it was. But, you know, you went on to bigger and better. And I did more and more of the business side of things at Sanfia and, now here, that’s pretty much all I do at Stellar. I guess we can’t have it both ways.’
He nodded, watching her a beat too long, until she squirmed in her seat. ‘So… you wanted to see me about…?’
Shifting his body to face her, he pulled a knee up to the cushions. ‘First, I want your view of the music. Honestly, what do you think of the sample track?’
Even Tommy Dawson has doubts, she thought.
‘Honestly? I’m blown away by it, Tommy. It’s stripped bare, it’s raw. It’s heartfelt and you’ve kept that… edge, or… electricity you have these days. It’s like early-days Tommy Dawson, pouring his heart into his lyrics with not two dimes to rub together, meets a seasoned artist, accomplished and fine-tuned. I… I love it.’
He didn’t smile or even seem to react, he simply kept staring at her.
When eventually he spoke, he said, ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’
It took Andrea a second to get over the flattery of Tommy asking her to dinner. Not because of who he was but because he had never asked her to dinner before. In the past, they had ended up in bed after a long day in the studio, later, they had met at shows, shared impromptu drinks and screwed. Then, he or she always left and it would be months before they next saw each other.
She scoffed and brushed invisible dust from her skirt as she stood, walking toward her desk and coming to stand behind it, physically shielded from the man on her sofa. ‘No.’
He followed her, standing across the desk from her, his arms folded across his chest, his bottom lip almost protruding like a petulant child. ‘Why not?’
She matched his stance. ‘For one thing, you don’t mean dinner, you mean sex.’
‘Huh. Someone has a big opinion of herself, doesn’t she?’
Andrea raised an eyebrow, incredulously.
‘Okay, I take that back. But I asked you to dinner and I meant dinner. At my new place, not a hotel, and I’ll cook.’
Now she laughed. ‘You cook? Since when?’
‘All right, I’ll order in. But I’ll order in nice. I’ve told you, this is a new me. New home, new music, maybe even a few morals. It would just be nice to… hang out… talk music, catch up.’
She smiled. That did sound nice. But… ‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Let’s suppose you really mean dinner. So we’ll eat this great food you order in. We’ll drink some single malt on the rocks. We’ll sit by your open fire.’
‘I live in a penthouse apartment.’
‘Fine. We’ll sit by your electric fire. We’ll get talking. We’ll laugh. We’ll flirt. We’ll dance. Then we’ll sleep together.’
‘I mean, that kinda sounds… No, no, I’m just playing with ya. I promise no sleeping together.’
She smiled in response to his hands held out in surrender. ‘No, Tommy.’
‘You’re a hard woman to crack. Look, I’d really like it if you were involved in the new album, whatever way they’ll let you be but I get if you can’t make that happen. I just miss the old days, you know? Anyways, you’ve got my number. The offer stands.’
He started to walk away and Andrea said, ‘For how many seconds?’
She heard him laugh as he walked out of her office. She watched him lean on Hannah’s desk and say something to her, then tap his hand down and walk away.
‘Probably giving her his number,’ she mumbled, but found herself laughing.
If nothing else, Tommy’s visit had taken her mind off Hunter.
Who happened to be walking past Tommy in the opposite direction… toward her office.
What did he want? She had said everything she had to say to him. Now, what she really needed was space to get past him. Oh, but he was wearing her favourite light grey suit.
‘Psst, Hannah. Hannah. Hannah!’
Hannah jumped on the final shout, turning in her desk chair positioned outside Andrea’s office. Andrea ushered her in subtly with her hand.
Hannah glanced in the direction of Hunter then looked around her desk, grabbed a bunch of papers and hurried into Andrea’s office.
The women stood on either side of Andrea’s desk, staring and pointing at the paper stack between them. Andrea dared a discreet glance and saw Hunter was almost upon them.
‘You need to call, erm… ah… Sean Deacon, over at ah… the… ah…’ Hannah’s nerves were making Andrea more nervous. ‘At Platinum Management?’
