Rosalie was midway through telling Tommy Dawson how to feng-shui his new city apartment. Tommy had been on and off the scene in the past, having had numerous flings with Andrea. She had first met Tommy shortly before he and his band were plucked from Andrea at Sanfia Records by XM Music Group. Funny, because she always thought when Andrea and Tommy were working together they were perfect for each other, but it had never come to anything serious.
Tommy had bought a flashy penthouse apartment in a sought-after building in the city and it was the kind of project even Rosalie would end her sabbatical for.
Their conversation was cut short when Sofia, looking uncommonly flushed and bothered, appeared nearby with Seth, Frankie, Billy and a young woman Rosalie didn’t recognise but who looked to Rosalie distinctly like a music artist – call it intuition or call it long feather ear-rings, a hippie-style dress and purple streaks in her hair.
‘Sofia, over here!’ Rosalie called, pulling her into a hug. ‘This jumpsuit looks incredible on you and I love the slicked hair.’
Sofia looked down at herself. ‘The what? Oh, thanks. You look as great as ever.’
Rosalie held up a hand in greeting to the others then quietly asked Sofia. ‘Are you okay? You seem flustered.’
‘I’m fine.’ Then she shook her head. ‘Just a bit of a delay getting out of the house, that’s all.’
Rosalie felt her brows furrow as she looked around the space nearby. ‘Isn’t Jay with you?’
She noticed Sofia swallow deeply, before she confessed. ‘That was sort of the delay. He had a big night last night and…’ Sofia clearly feigned a smile. ‘Nothing he can’t sleep off. Hey, I haven’t introduced you to Dani.’
Sofia ushered the purple-haired musician forward and said, ‘Dani, this is my friend, Rosalie.’ Then she told Rosalie. ‘Dani is recording her first EP at Sanfia. She’s going to be a hit.’
Rosalie enquired about Dani’s music but as she listened to the young woman’s passion for country music, her attention was drawn to Seth, not shaggy and unkempt tonight but looking… well. Very well. His scuffed suede boots had been swapped out for polished leather. His dirty ripped jeans had been replaced by butt-hugging indigo dress jeans and where he had worn a white T-shirt and a flannel shirt, he was wearing a black fitted T-shirt and a suave jacket. If it weren’t for his seemingly signature dog tags and fiercely blue eyes, he would be barely recognisable.
Their eyes locked momentarily before Seth was yanked forward into a rough embrace with none other than man-of-the-hour, frontman of Armstrung, a Billboard-topping rock band, whose name was Randy Jonson – possibly the crudest stage name in the business.
Seth impressed her. Despite being in the presence of real fame and riches, Seth seemed to be taking everything in his stride, shaking hands with the other members of Armstrung, laughing and joking. Rosalie knew them all from a brief time she spent dating the lead guitarist.
But how did Seth know Randy Jonson? Seth hadn’t even released his first single yet.
Since the music industry was all about who you know, Rosalie was going to find out. She neatly introduced Dani to Miley Delap, a young British pop artist who had recently left a well-known girl band to go solo – Rosalie knew Miley’s family through a friend of a friend. With the girls happily chatting, Rosalie made a beeline for Randy and Seth.
She watched as Randy took a cigarette from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, hung it between his lips and went to light up.
‘Outside, Randy!’ someone called, making Randy laugh. Rosalie watched him pat Seth on the back and tell the people around him, ‘Babysit my kid brother.’
Brother? Seth Young was Randy Jonson’s brother? This was gold. She had to tell Sofia.
But as she turned on the spot, she was nearly rocked off her heels by Graham Shelton, organiser extraordinaire. He was speaking frantically to a producer Rosalie recognised from one of the big labels.
‘What do you mean he’s too sick to go on stage? Give him a pill or something. He’s on in less than twenty minutes,’ Graham said.
‘I’m sorry, man, but he’s in no fit state, believe me.’
‘I hope he knows he’s fucking up his career. What the hell am I supposed to do?’
‘I’m sorry, man, I really am but he’s just a warm-up act. Can’t one of the others play an extra track or somethin’?’
‘At this stage in the game?’ Graham yelled. ‘Fuck!’
As Rosalie rubbed her battered arm, she listened to the exchange, her mind whirring with an idea. A way of paying Sofia back for teaching her the ropes. A way of making a small dent into the professional side of the industry.
Before she had a chance to second-guess herself and whether Seth was ready for what she was about to propose, she said, ‘Graham, maybe I could help you?’
‘Are you crazy?’ Seth snapped at Rosalie. Then he turned to Sofia. ‘This is insane. I can’t do this.’
Seth paced up and down in the gents’ toilets, one hand in the pocket of his denim pants, the other rubbing the back of his neck.
‘Please don’t call me crazy,’ Rosalie said. ‘You should be thanking me. I’m using my contacts to get you a break here. Plus, I’ve seen it done before. Do you remember, Soph? Three years ago, Andrea took one of her musicians along to the CMAs. An act pulled out of a day slot and Andrea seized the opportunity, telling the organisers that her latest talent could fill the spot. It went a long way toward making his next single a hit in indie terms, hitting the indie charts at… what was it, Soph, like twenty? And just breaking into the Billboard top 100 Hot Country Songs. So, you see, you just need to take your opportunities.’
She chose not to highlight that the difference between what Andrea did three years ago and what she had just committed Seth to in fifteen minutes’ time, was about ten thousand people (growing every minute), a significantly larger stage and, well, Madison Square Gardens.
Oops, maybe this was insane.
As Seth continued to pace, Rosalie motioned to Sofia to step in. He was Sofia’s artist, after all. Surely, she had some words of wisdom.
‘Look, Seth, Rosalie is right,’ Sofia said calmly. ‘She’s heard your single and wouldn’t have suggested this – I wouldn’t be in agreement with this – if we didn’t think you were up to it. I want the world to see what you do. I want those people out there to hear your lyrics, the way you play, that voice.’
‘You’re the complete package, Seth,’ Rosalie added. ‘I mean, I had my doubts when I first saw you, believe me. Those ripped jeans and scruffy boots and… I digress. Tonight, though, you look… you know.’
He stopped pacing and looked at her as if he were contemplating her words. Then he smirked.
‘So maybe look at it this way,’ Sofia tried. ‘You’ve been shot at and you’ve kept people alive in the middle of a war zone. All I’m asking you to do is go on stage, with Billy and Frankie, and sing like you would have to your platoon. Like no one else is there. Just you, sitting on some turned-up crates at your F.O.B.’
Shot at? He was a soldier?
Rosalie watched him rub the dog tags that hung down his chest, then he looked down to his feet and she truly had no idea whether he would do the show or not. God, maybe she was irresponsible after all.
Then she stood taller and asked firmly, ‘Do you want this, Seth? Do you want to be an artist?’
He raised his eyes and Rosalie saw the answer in his determined look.
‘Then you’re going to have to get used to big stages and screaming fans because you’ve got. It. All. You’re going all the way. I believe that. Sofia believes that. And you need to too. I’ll give you two minutes to decide and if you choose not to go on stage, I’ll go and tell Graham that you weren’t up to it. But my best advice, for what it’s worth, is don’t waste life’s opportunities. Take them for those who can’t.’
She left the bathroom, letting the door close behind her. In the corridor, Billy and Frankie were leaning up against the wall, wondering whether they would be going on stage in a matter of minutes.
She twisted one side of her mouth and raised her arms from her sides as if to say, We’ll see, hoping that this wouldn’t come crashing down around her and Sofia.
Why did she think she could meddle in a business she was fast realising she didn’t know at all?
Coming to stand between the guys, the three of them waited for the bathroom door to open, counting long seconds until eventually, the door opened and first Sofia, then Seth’s imposing frame filled the space.
They waited for Seth’s response. Rosalie held her breath.
Seth cleared his throat and asked, ‘What about the piano?’
As Billy and Frankie quickly got excited, Rosalie exhaled slowly, relieved.
‘You’re going to have to play the piano, Soph,’ Seth said.
‘The stage isn’t for me,’ she said. ‘You can go on without the piano, the guitars sound great anyway.’
‘In the studio, you said the piano makes the track and I agree, so it’s the single with the piano or no show.’
Reluctant though Rosalie was to admit it, from what she had heard in the studio, Seth was right, the piano did carry the melody, particularly in the opening of the track.
She thought quickly. ‘Can’t someone else just play the piano? Billy, you can play piano, right?’
‘Yeah, I can, musical genius, but then we’ll lose the bass guitar and—’
She held up a hand to quash his sarcasm and told him, ‘Billy, I’m nothing if not a lady with contacts. You guys get ready and I’ll find you a bass guitarist to blow your socks off.’
The feeling she had was a feeling she rarely got and one that Rosalie knew only came when something truly great was about to happen. Rosalie rushed over to Hannah and Andrea, tottering at almost a light run as best she could in her heels, finding her friends deep in conversation with Calvin Richards. Calvin was a radio DJ capable of making or breaking artists and Andrea would doubtless be tapping him up for airtime.
‘Ladies, we need to get to the stage for the next act,’ she announced, breathless. ‘You too, Calvin. You’re not going to want to miss this, let me tell you.’
‘What? Who is it?’ Hannah asked, already falling into step behind Rosalie as she led the way to the arena stage.
‘Someone who is about to make history, magic and the front page of every glossy magazine in the country. Hurry!’
They hustled to the stage with Calvin Richards in tow, turning heads as they made their way, until they were part of a large group of others who tapped into their frenzy and filed into the arena, coming to stand in the press area immediately in front of the stage.
Sofia was already standing dead-centre in front of the set, her hands forming a steeple over her nose and mouth as she breathed into them.
‘What’s the big deal?’ Hannah asked, seemingly giddy without knowing why, as they reached Sofia.
‘Did you bring Calvin?’ Sofia asked, less than her usual chilled self. Rosalie and Hannah separated to give Sofia sight of Calvin behind them.
‘Hey, Calvin,’ Sofia called to him. ‘This is the track you’re going to be playing to death next week.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Calvin said in return.
And Rosalie told him, ‘You know we will.’
Rosalie would remind him of the helping hand she gave his younger sister when she started NYU and desperately wanted to make a complete U-turn on her gothic look to go preppy. His sister became head of the cheer squad and now had a sweet pad overlooking Central Park, where she lived with the starting quarterback for the Jets, all thanks to Rosalie’s wardrobe overhaul, a few foils and some major laser hair removal.
When Calvin dropped his head back, laughing good-humouredly, Rosalie’s wide, signature smile broke, showing her perfectly straight teeth beneath red-painted lips. She winked at Sofia, who finally seemed to relax.
Andrea and Sofia looked alike in many ways – they had similar features and the same green eyes. But Rosalie had always found Sofia’s look more beautiful. She had softer angles, her frame was daintier and less imposing, and she had the sweetest creases at the sides of her mouth to match the small dimple in her chin.
In fact, Sofia’s personality was all-round sweeter and more relaxed, though she and Andrea could come to blows big-style. It was rare but they had been at loggerheads a couple of times since Rosalie had known them.
The first time was when Sofia wanted to rush into marrying Jay – in honesty, Andrea was right about him. Jay had fooled everyone at first but soon his own insecurities were clear and it became obvious that he would put Sofia down to make himself feel better.
The second time was when Andrea ditched Sanfia Records to move to XM Music Group, though they disguised the truth of that argument behind something much less meaningful, so meaningless Rosalie couldn’t even remember what it was.
‘So, why did we run here?’ Hannah asked.
Right then, the arena lights went down and they were standing in near blackness, looking at a dark stage. Rosalie could just about make out figures moving around. A guy with a guitar she assumed and hoped was Seth approached the central microphone.
They stood in a row – Andrea, Rosalie, Hannah and Sofia. Rosalie watched Sofia take a deep breath – had she pulled this off? – then her attention was drawn to the stage as the sound of a piano began to play. The melody was pretty – slow but not melancholy, just how the guys had rehearsed in the studio.
The stage lights came up. As two lights streamed the audience, Rosalie noticed the arena was already half-full and growing, ready for the headline acts. On the stage, the man she had seen moving as a silhouette with a guitar was now standing under a central spotlight, his guitar strapped across his shoulder. Seth had discarded his jacket and wore simply his jeans and plain black T-shirt that allowed her to see that he was toned – muscly in fact. He had facial hair but didn’t look as ragged as the others on the stage – Billy, playing piano, Frankie, playing lead guitar, and the secret weapon she persuaded to help out his younger brother was playing electric guitar. Her heart fluttered with excitement and satisfaction.
Hannah leaned toward Sofia and asked, ‘Is that Randy Jonson?’
Sofia’s gaze was fixed on the man at the front of the stage, who was staring back at her as he began to play his guitar. Sofia nodded and Rosalie wondered if the gesture was in response to Hannah’s question or to reassure her artist on stage. It was a move that reminded Rosalie that, as ever, she was just the helper on the periphery of someone else’s story.
As the melody picked up, an indication lyrics were imminent, Rosalie felt Sofia stiffen beside her and wondered whether Andrea might put an arm around her sister. True to form, she didn’t. Andrea was great at a lot of things but she was completely emotionally inept.
Then all other thoughts left Rosalie’s mind as Seth started to sing.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I fell for you when we were too young.
But we both learned from a broken heart
and now we can move on.
I’ll never forget that first kiss.
You know I will always remember.
Baby I was crazy about you.
But you aren’t here no more.
His voice was velvet – old, familiar and smooth. It wrapped around her like a warm bath and made her want to sink down under luxury brand bubbles. Rosalie wasn’t as talented as Andrea and Sofia when it came to music but she had been around it all her life, first with her dad, endlessly listening to vinyls at home. Then with the many musicians she had dated – a member of Randy Jonson’s Armstrung included (if you could call it dating). And latterly because of Andrea, Sofia and Hannah. So, she felt qualified enough to know that the man on stage – his voice, the way his fingers effortlessly commanded his guitar, the lyrics, which were no doubt his own if he was working with Sofia, the whole look – had it all.
If her own opinion wasn’t enough, when she looked to her left and saw Andrea’s wide eyes and slightly open mouth, she had back-up. When she saw the glazed look in Sofia’s eyes and the way she shivered when Seth dropped into his lower register, she knew Sofia thought he was the real deal.
Rosalie leaned into Sofia’s ear and told her, ‘You can stop holding your breath now.’
Sofia’s lips broke into a smile, then a laugh. Then she shook her head and quickly swiped a rogue tear from under her eye.
If Andrea wouldn’t show any emotion, Rosalie certainly could. Instinctively, she wrapped an arm around Sofia’s waist and they pressed their heads together long enough for Sofia to regain some composure. Sometimes, people just needed to feel loved and lately, Rosalie felt like she had more love inside her than she was able to give.
As the track built to a crescendo, Randy Jonson announced through his microphone, ‘Madison Square Gardens, meet Seth Young.’
The ever-growing crowd roared and Seth did what most artists forgot to do, he paused for a moment and took it all in. As far as Rosalie could tell, he would have to get used to people screaming his name very quickly.
Her hips swayed and she tapped her foot in her fine high-heeled shoe as she stood among her friends.
‘Sofia, Seth is fantastic, well done, you,’ she shouted above the roaring crowd and her own applause as the track ended.
Sofia was beaming. ‘Thanks, but it’s mostly him, I assure you. He’s incredible – voice, lyrics, guy.’ Sofia shook her head as she looked at the stage Seth was leaving, seemingly in awe.
As the noise in the arena calmed, Rosalie saw Andrea place an almost rigid hand on Sofia’s shoulder and tell her, ‘He is good. With the right support, he could be really something.’
Well, that was about as close to an endorsement as Andrea was likely to give – a tiny chink in her otherwise imperishable armour.
Sofia didn’t have a chance to respond before Calvin Richards raised his closed fist for her to bump.
‘I’ll be more than happy to give him airtime, Soph. Send over the track. I want an exclusive.’
Rosalie watched as Sofia’s mouth curved into yet another smile. ‘It’s yours,’ she told Calvin.
Then, with a gentle but large hand pressed to her shoulder, Rosalie was politely asked to move aside by none other than Seth Young – who suddenly seemed taller, broader and even more ruggedly handsome than he had appeared to her before.
When Seth spoke to Sofia, the southern twang that decorated his voice when he sang was even stronger.
‘I was once told that a man should never argue with a woman because women are always right,’ he said.
Sofia blushed, uncommonly so, Rosalie silently mused. ‘I don’t know about that but a good producer always knows what’s best for her clients.’
Seth laughed – a soft, rich laugh – as he rubbed the light covering of stubble around his jaw. ‘Yeah, all right, I’ll give you that. Thank you.’
Rosalie held her breath, grinning as she waited for Seth and Sofia’s gratitude. It had, after all, been her initiative that got Seth a slot and her sharp thinking that got Randy Jonson up on the stage with him – something she knew would bring Seth countless hits on social media and pictures in the rags as showbiz columns wrote about the newest face in country rock.
‘You were great up there, Seth,’ she gushed.
Seth turned to her with a scowl as Sofia said, ‘I’m not sure if that was brave or ridiculous, Ros, and I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you.’
Oh. If Sofia hadn’t shaken her head with a glint in her eye, Rosalie might have felt the exact opposite of praised.
But Seth didn’t offer a smile as he folded his big arms across his chest and said, ‘You know, Sofia may forgive you for putting us in that situation but I won’t thank you. It was a stupid thing to do, way before I was ready for it, and it could have ruined my career before it even got started. Not just that but Sofia knew, because she is my producer, not you, that I don’t want to ride on the back of my big brother. Hell, I didn’t want anyone to know he’s my brother, not if that’s going to be the thing that gets me on the stage over my own music. But I guess this is how your life of pretty things and parties works, right? Be seen with all the right people. Daddy gifting you record labels you have no clue how to run. Prancing around in high heels and sparkly dresses and acting like life isn’t real.’
Before Rosalie had a chance to even process her shock, Seth had been pulled into another conversation, leaving Rosalie feeling winded.
The feel of Sofia’s hand on her now cold skin reminded Rosalie to breathe. ‘He’s still wired from the show. Try not to take it to heart. But he does have a point, Ros. Next time, maybe you could ask first and act once we’ve all thought it through?’
As tears welled behind her eyes, Rosalie offered her brightest smile and nodded. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. Silly me, always acting before thinking.’