The atmosphere in the halls of Nashville’s Bridgestone Arena was nothing short of electric. Musicians and celebrities from various walks of life came to mix and mingle; an assortment of record executives, managers, assistants, paparazzi, journalists and hangers-on lurked backstage as well. With every single ticket sold, A Night with Deana was shaping up to be the event of year to date.
Maggie sat pensively in her dressing room as the sounds of the first of two opening acts began. Between sound checks, rehearsals, errands and final wardrobe fittings, she had little time for more than a quick phone call to Grace to make sure the Buchanans had everything they needed for the night. She hoped they were having a great time, and couldn’t wait to meet them afterward to hear their take on it all.
Her thoughts held her captive to the point where she didn’t hear the door open, momentarily allowing the din of the hallway to seep in. With a confident stride, Richard Davidson made his way across the room to Maggie’s side.
“Baby,” he said softly as he bent down to whisper in her ear. She barely moved.
“Maggie - Baby, come on. You’ve gotta finish getting ready,” he said, snapping his fingers. That was enough to bring her back.
“Sorry. Just getting in the zone, I guess. Hi.” Maggie placed her hand on Richard’s cheek and kissed him sweetly.
“Hi,” he responded with equal ardor. He looked down at his watch. 7:25 pm. “So, what are you wearing tonight?”
Maggie made her way to the clothes rack to assemble her outfits. “Well, Deana wants the black and gold for the opener.”
“Yeah, you’ll look great in that.”
“Oh, thank you sweetie…”
“Black always slims you down.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow and ignored the backhanded compliment. She went on. “Then a quick change to the sequined gowns for the Motown tribute.”
“She’s doin’ a Motown Tribute?” Richard chuckled grimly. “Gimme a break.”
“Richard, please don’t start.”
Richard drew in a breath and took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. Standing well over six feet tall; his mahogany skin had a flawless, almost velvet appearance to it. Knowing that a night such as this didn’t necessarily call for a suit and tie, his fashion A-game would still remain solid. He opted for his casual best: A navy blazer over a classic white cotton shirt and crisp jeans with some Ferragamo boots he thought would fit the occasion. He couldn’t bring himself to actually purchase anything close to cowboy boots, but he knew he’d clothed his athletic physique impeccably and appropriately from head to toe.
“Fine,” he said, never taking his eyes off of his image. “You go live your little country life with your little country friends; do your twangy, watered-down version our people’s music and I’ll catch up with you back here after the show.”
Maggie bowed her head for a moment. She loved what she did, and she loved the people with whom she worked. This was a big night for everyone, not just Deana; and she wasn’t about to let Richard take that from her.
“Well, since you can’t even remotely wish me well tonight,” she said wearily, “why don’t you go out to the hall right now and see who you know? As you said, I need to get ready.”
He was never sure why he continued to play such cruel and silly games with her. It had to be the high he seemed to get off of the push and pull of their relationship. He was her weakness; never protesting his actions to the point of leaving. The fact that she was willing to take his abuse merely seemed to fuel his fire.
When they met at a fund raiser put on by Deana’s label, Star Records, it was a wonderful time; Richard did and said everything right. He was the ideal catch.
Simultaneously charming her father by working in an approved profession, completely bewitching her mother with a subtle magnetism - all while sweeping her off of her own two feet, Maggie thought he was a small piece of heaven sent straight down to earth. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him. Which made it easier for Richard when he discovered that Maggie was one of the most connected women in town.
She, however, never saw herself in that vein. The people she knew happened to be people of influence in an industry she loved. She saw them as her friends and strong acquaintances, not as opportunities or stepping stones.
But Richard did. And it annoyed him that she never took advantage of what was obviously a fertile professional playground.
Since he knew she was the reason his client list was extensive, he always doled out a little sugar with his vinegar. He didn’t want to completely push her away. He always had to give just a little bit to reel her back in. “I’m just teasing, baby,” he said, smooth as silk, making his way across the room to her. “I’ll wish you good luck, but what would be the point? You know you’re gonna be great, and you’re gonna look stunning. You always do.”
He slid his hands down Maggie’s arms, and met her expression in her mirror. Smiling brilliantly, Richard savored the effect his one-two punch had on her. He was working it to the best of his ability. Working it, he hoped, potentially, to the bedroom that night.
In private, he loved her ‘extra padding’ as he put it. When around others however, it was a bit of an embarrassment to him.
Richard wanted to love her. Maggie was sweet enough to love. But he needed more - or in the realm of the physical, he needed less. She was just going to have to do until someone more suitable came along.
As for Maggie, the only reason she seemed to soldier on was that nagging question in the back of her mind: If not Richard, then who on earth would want me?
Another gentle kiss on the lips brought a smile to her face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate that. Now go!” she teased.
“So…you and me later?” he asked.
“Baby, you know the Buchanans are here tonight. We’re gonna grab a late bite with them after the show.”
Richard tilted his head toward the ceiling, rolled his eyes and let out a groan.
“You don’t have to come, you know.”
An evening with the Buchanans and their boring, bourgeois suburbanness was something akin to the pleasure of a root canal for Richard. But if enduring that could lead to a night of scratching his itch with Maggie, then so be it.
“Just call me on the cell when the show’s over and I’ll meet you guys wherever.” That would give him just enough time to make more interesting plans.
“What, you’re not even gonna sit with them? I got you a seat out there.”
“Now, you know I’ve never sat through one of that woman’s shows, and I won’t start tonight. Besides, the heads of those two independent labels are here, and I heard in the breeze one of them was looking for counsel.”
“You’re talking about Simon Ballentine? I told you I’d introduce you after…”
“Maggie,” He said, heading toward the door, “you’ve got enough on your plate. I can say hello on my own.”
He did, however, fully intended to drop Maggie’s name, just to play it safe.
“Okay, that’s great. Do your thing. Now go! We’re down to like 30 minutes here.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. Darla opened the door just as he reached for the knob. He paused to regard the dress Maggie held in her hand. “You know,” he said, “the black panels on the side of that dress you’re putting on really are gonna bring those hips down. That’ll be great!”
Thinking his comments would be taken as encouragement, Richard blew an embarrassed Maggie a kiss, gave a perfunctory acknowledgement to Darla, then left.
Maggie took that moment to duck behind a partition to change. Even out of eyesight, she could feel Darla’s disdain. “Do not say a word, Darla. Please? Just don’t.”
Darla took a seat in front of a mirror and proceeded to check herself over. “I didn’t say anything. But if I were going to…”
Just then, Chrissy opened the door and peeked inside. “Is it okay to bring Frank in here?” she asked with her usual cheerfulness.
“Sure, I’m dressed,” Maggie said. “Come on in guys.”
Frank Boyd towered a good twelve inches over his bride. A comic pair not only in appearance, they were in temperament as well: Frank was so laid back and taciturn, one could actually forget that he was in the room. But he loved his wife, adored her spunk. He kept her grounded and peaceful. They were perfectly suited for one another.
“How’s it goin’ guys?” Darla asked the couple as Frank took a chair by the door. Chrissy gave herself a last minute check in the mirror. “We’re great! Rarin’ to go,” she said. Frank simply smiled and nodded.
“Hey Frank,” Darla teased with an over-emphasized twang, “Watch yourself tonight, ya hear? No swingin’ from the chandelier or nothin’ you wild thang.”
Frank folded his arms and laughed quietly. “I’ll try to contain myself, Darla.”
With all three singers dressed and coiffed within an inch of their lives, it was time for their pre-concert ritual. Maggie grabbed the other girls’ hands and began to sing, “When peace like a river, attendeth my way. When sorrows like sea billows roll. What e’er be my lot, Thou hast taught me to say…”
“It is well…” the three voices joined in perfect three part harmony. Just then another voice lilted over theirs. Maggie knew that voice. They opened up the circle for Deana to join, and let The Boss Lady take over.
“It is well, with my soul...”
Glamorously adorned in gold silk, Deana’s burnished chestnut hair was radiant against it. With her voice strong and confident, they completed the hymn.
“Girls, are you excited tonight,” she asked with a wide grin.
“Absolutely!” they all said, attempting to match her enthusiasm.
“Have a great show. Whoo! I am nervous!” Deana twisted and turned to view various angles of herself; fussing with her outfit and her hair anxiously.
“Seriously?” Chrissy asked.
“Oh yeah,” Deana explained. “This is the home crowd. You know - a prophet in his own country and all that.” She chatted nervously as she flailed her arms wildly for emphasis.
Darla rolled her eyes while Maggie gave her a look of warning; simultaneously placing her hand on Deana’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be great, Deana,” Maggie said reassuringly.
“Oh yeah, I know it is,” Deana said, trying to center herself. “I have the best band, the best singers, and the best material in the entire world.”
“Does that mean we’re getting a raise?” Darla asked. Maggie gave Darla a light tap on the back of the head. “Shut up, D,” she said out of the side of her mouth.
Maggie had worked in this business long enough to know that Deana and Charles would change her personnel on a whim for any or no reason at all. Darla had worked in the business long enough not to care.
Darla was fortunate in this case, as Deana heard nothing; oblivious to anything other than the next seventy-five minutes of her life. With an eagerness that could only denote emotions bordering on terror, she said, “Alright! Let’s go bring the house down!”
Frank opened the door, allowing the ladies to make their exit. Darla grabbed Maggie’s hand, pulled her close and said, “Hey, it was a prime moment to squeeze some more cash out of her. Strike while the mood is good, know what I’m sayin’?”
“Darla, you’re a trip,” said Maggie laughing.
As the band took the stage, the lights went down, sending the already energetic crowd into a state of near hysteria. The show got underway and sailed without a glitch.
Back in the dressing room, buried in the pocket of her handbag, Maggie’s cell phone began to ring.