CHAPTER FOUR
Chelsea
Last night was a mix of everything I loved and a dash of things I was uncertain about. Ben seemed comfortable and relaxed at the ranch, not unlike how he was on the island. But something was different. Maybe it was the staff and the responsibilities he had to face. Or maybe because I knew his real name, his complete identity, I was seeing him in an entirely new light.
Regardless of the confusion swirling in my head, I was excited about seeing the ranch. I followed Ben to the far end of the garage.
“We have to drive?” I asked.
“Sorta.” He pulled the cover off a four-wheeler. “This is how I like to see the ranch.” He walked to the opposite wall and retrieved a few helmets.
I secured one over my head and clasped the buckle against my cheek. “How does this look?”
“I’d say it’s the best lookin’ helmet in Texas. Ready?” He straddled the ATV and patted the back of the seat for me to join behind him. I hopped on and slid my hands around his waist.
“Hold on tight.” He revved the engine, threw the four-wheeler into reverse, and peeled out of the garage.
The sun was glaring as Ben turned the bike onto a dirt path. I always thought August in North Carolina was hot, but Texas was scorching. I was glad we were going fast. The wind whipping through my hair gave the illusion of a cool breeze.
The house disappeared behind us and we drove along through an open field. I couldn’t see the road or a single building. It felt like we were completely alone.
Ben called over his shoulder, “This used to be a grazing pasture, but the cattle have been moved to another part of the ranch to let this part grow back.”
I nodded, but wasn’t sure he saw it. There was a huge grin on his face as he steered us deeper into the rolling fields. He turned toward a cluster of trees.
“I want to show you my secret fishing hole,” he yelled. He spun a hard left and we turned under the shade of some low-growing oaks. I could see a pond through the grove. Ben cut the engine when we reached the water’s edge.
I noticed a few chairs, and the stone circle of a campfire pit. It made me smile.
“This is my escape when I’m here.” He led me toward the chairs.
“Why do you need to escape at the ranch?” I asked. He had everything he needed at the house, not to mention so much space that you could get lost trying to find the bathroom. I thought the ranch itself was his escape.
He picked up a few rocks and started skipping them across the still pond. The ripples carried from one end to the other.
“’Cause, sometimes it’s too much. And I like to be alone.”
“Oh.” I frowned.
“Not like that. I didn’t mean that. Not alone away from you. I meant away from the staff. Away from work. This is my place. I wanted to share it with you.”
“I think it’s beautiful.” I stooped to grab a handful of pebbles and walked closer to the pond. “What kind of fish are in here?” I tried to skip the rocks but could only get two hops at a time.
“Catfish mostly, but since I haven’t been here all summer they are probably enormous. Want to fish with me?”
“Yes, let’s do some fishing. I’ve never fished in a pond before. We don’t exactly have any on the island.”
Ben chuckled. “Maybe there is something I can teach you about the water after all.” He strolled to the four-wheeler and unhooked a cooler and two rods that were strapped to the back. “Ok, so the beauty of fishing here is the fish can’t escape.”
I laughed. “That seems cruel. They don’t have a chance.”
“Then they shouldn’t take my bait. Trust me, we need to fish this pond. It’s probably overrun by now.” He attached bait to the ends of our lines and cast his lure into the center of the pond. “Need help?”
I shook my head. “Oh no, I can cast. Grew up on an island, remember?” If there was one thing I could do, it was catch a fish. When you spend your summers as a kid on the docks outside your parents’ store, you get good at perfecting your fishing techniques. I was excellent with a cast net, a crab net, and had won my fair share of pinfish tournaments.
“Right, right.” He pulled the chairs closer to the edge of the pond and stretched into the seat.
It was quiet, but not the same kind of quiet I was used to. There were no crashing waves or boats cruising by. I couldn’t hear the squawk of seagulls, or the sound of wind chimes bouncing around from a sea breeze. Ranch quiet had its own sounds, and I couldn’t identify them all.
Ben reached into the cooler and pulled out a beer. “Want one?” He offered me a cold bottle.
“No, I don’t think I should drink before my interview. What if I mess up?”
“Darlin’, it’s not an interview. You already have a contract. It might take the edge off.” He pushed it in my direction.
“I guess I do have a few hours.” I twisted the top off and took a big gulp. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a beer in the morning, probably never. But this one tasted good.
“Isn’t this perfect?” He smiled.
“Yeah, it is.” I relaxed in my seat. Ben’s hand rested on my knee. My line was in the water, and we were alone. It was completely perfect.
***
I had changed outfits three times. I finally settled on a black skirt and a sleeveless button-up blue top. I thought it combined a professional and stylish look, even if it wasn’t like anything I usually wore. Ben kept reminding me it wasn’t an interview, but it felt like it. I was meeting Quinn Jansen, my favorite singer. I still couldn’t believe she was interested in singing my first three songs.
After the pond fishing this morning, I took a shower and focused on the meeting. I knew Ben would keep distracting me if I let him, but this was one moment in my life I knew it was ok to let the butterflies take hold. My first song deal wasn’t something I could skim over and pretend was part of everyday life. It was my life. It was a dream materializing after years of hard work. Butterflies were a good reminder of what I had accomplished.
Ben said he needed to prep for his new agent meeting. I finally convinced him I was fine, and he left me alone to get ready and prepare.
Without him there, the bathroom seemed even larger than last night. I wasn’t sure I knew how to work all the shower buttons. After accidentally turning on music, then lights, I figured out how to start the water. This was a far cry from setting the seven-minute kitchen timer at home. Ben said to let the water run as long as I wanted.
Thirty minutes later, I emerged with flushed skin and pruney fingertips. It felt wonderful.
After dabbing on the last bits of mascara, I took a deep breath and headed downstairs. Ben said someone named Bud on his security detail was going to take me to the meeting. I popped my head in his office before going to meet my escort.
“Hey, I’m getting ready to leave.”
Ben looked distracted. I wasn’t sure I had seen his forehead furrowed before. There was an intensity surrounding him that was unfamiliar.
He stood from the desk and walked around to meet me. “Tell Brandon I said hey. I need to catch up with him while I’m in town. Tell him I’ll give him a call for lunch or a beer.”
“Ok, I’ll tell him.” I turned to leave.
“Wait, hold on.” He grabbed my arm. “You’re not getting out of here like that.”
Before I knew it, Ben had dipped me toward the floor and his lips were firmly planted on mine. To hell with lip gloss. I felt the warmth of his mouth and sighed as he stood me upright.
“Umm, thanks?” I laughed. I ran my fingers along my bottom lip, feeling the prickling sensation turn to numbness from his kiss.
“Good luck, but you don’t need it. They are going to love you and the contract is a done deal, so stop worrying.” He walked back toward the monstrous leather chair on the other side of his desk. “Call me when you’re on your way back.”
“Ok. I will. Bye.” I left him rifling through a stack of folders. I didn’t know what had him in such a distracted state, but this was a Ben I hadn’t seen before: slightly distant, quieter, and intent on a pile of papers.
***
Bud seemed like a nice guy. He had a Stetson that covered the top half of his head and a smile just as big. The entire drive to the Blue Steel office, I twisted my hands in my lap. Bud insisted I sit in the backseat, where the windows were tinted dark enough the press wouldn’t see me when we left the ranch. The only problem was that I could still see out.
There were rows of them. Microphones, tripods, cameras scattered through the crowd. As soon as Bud turned onto the Texas highway, a smattering of flashes bounced off the car. I realized they didn’t know who was in the backseat, but it didn’t calm the queasiness I felt under their scrutiny.
The roads in Texas were much wider than what I was used to. On the island, I could see the sound on one side, and the ocean on the other. Wide-open hill country was different. As the miles rolled past, the fences and ranch gates became less frequent, and buildings started to pop up.
Bud steered us into the heart of downtown and pulled up alongside a tan brick building.
I pressed my palms into my legs for the tenth time since we left the house. I reminded myself what Ben said. Nothing to worry about. This was a done deal. Then why did it feel like my career was hanging on this moment?
Bud opened the door for me. “Want me to walk in with you?” he offered.
“Oh, no thank you. I think I’ll be fine.” I scanned the sidewalk for any sign that the press from the ranch might have followed us.
“I’ll be sitting right here, then.”
“Thanks, Bud.”
I walked through the double doors of Blue Steel Records and headed straight for the receptionist seated in a semicircle desk.
“May I help you?” She pulled a headset off to address me.
“Yes. I’m Chelsea Davis and I have an appointment with Brandon Edwards.” I tried to keep my fidgeting to a minimum. I belonged here, and the last thing I wanted to do was act nervous in front of Brandon or Quinn.
“His office is on the third floor. I’ll let his assistant know you’re here.” She pointed to a set of elevator doors on my right.
“Thank you.”
“Have a nice day.” She smiled in return before settling back into her phone duties.
The elevator opened into a small lobby. A row of multicolored guitars hung on the walls. As I walked closer, I noticed they had all been signed. My jaw almost hit the floor at the names I was reading. I was so preoccupied that I was startled when a husky woman with dark hair and glasses tapped me on the shoulder.
“Are you Chelsea?”
“Y-y-yes.” I stuttered, embarrassed that she caught me drooling over the collection.
“Jennifer called from downstairs. Mr. Edwards and Miss Jansen are in the conference room. I’ll show you the way.”
I followed her along the corridor, my eyes widening with each framed silver, gold, and platinum record we passed. Blue Steel wasn’t the largest label, but it was selective about its artists and even more selective about what songs it produced. That approach seemed to work. The label had more hits and sales than I had realized. It was becoming more and more difficult for me to play it cool.
I could hear the faint sound of a piano and guitar coming from the end of the hall.
“Here you go.” The assistant pushed open a door and ushered me into a conference room.
I was so stunned to see Quinn Jansen sitting at the table that I forgot to thank her for escorting me.
“Chelsea!” Brandon Edwards stood to greet me, his deep voice filling the room.
“Mr. Edwards, it’s so nice to finally be here.” I focused on shaking his hand, trying to keep myself from fangirling over Quinn.
“I thought we had that settled. I’m Brandon. And this is Quinn.”
She was even more beautiful in person than she looked in her music videos. She flipped her long blond hair from one shoulder as she rose and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m already a big fan of your songs.”
I felt my cheeks flush a deep crimson. I was the one who was supposed to say that.
“You don’t know what that means to me. I love everything you’ve ever sung or written.”
“Sit, sit.” Brandon motioned to us. “How’s Ben doing? Saw in the paper he made it back with you last night.”
“Oh.” I froze. It was strange that Brandon already knew the details of our trip and that we were in town together. Being a part of the news was uncomfortable.
“If I know Ben, he probably went straight to his fishing hole, right?” Quinn smiled. “He loves that place, but I can’t get over the bugs. You know what I mean?”
My star-struck giddiness was immediately darkened by a cloud of jealousy. I did my best not to bore holes in Quinn’s forehead, but how in the hell did she know about the fishing hole? That was supposed to be his secret spot. This morning I thought I was the only person he had taken there, but that was only an assumption. He hadn’t actually told me that.
I stumbled through the fog that enveloped my mood and mustered a response. “Ben’s doing great. He’s busy at the ranch this morning.”
“I bet.” Brandon smiled. “He’s been gone a few months. Hadn’t heard from him until his agent called about your songs.”
“He said to tell you hello and he’d like to get a beer sometime.” I tried to remember if there was more to the message than that, but right now that was all I could recall. My palms had stopped sweating, but my mouth was barely working. I was trying not to picture Ben and Quinn at the fishing pond. Damn it. Their rhyming names even made them sound like a couple from some sickly-sweet country song.
“I’ll have to give him a call.” Brandon smiled. I tried to imagine him as one of Ben’s college football teammates. Anything to distract my mind.
“Is he really going to do Love & Bondage?” Quinn piped in. “He would be incredible. Can you imagine?”
“I-uh-I don’t know.” Somehow, the conversation had become all about Ben.
Brandon opened a folder in front of him. “Love & Bondage? Yeah, my girlfriend read that entire series. He’s thinking about that one?” He chuckled. “So, let’s get things moving. I have another meeting in about twenty minutes.”
I was relieved the focus had shifted back to the real reason for the meeting.
“Sounds good to me, Brandon. I’ve got studio time booked for the afternoon.” Quinn placed her phone next to her on the table.
“Chelsea, here’s the thing. We love the songs. We’ve been looking for something that could bring in the female audience.” Brandon spread a few charts on the table.
Quinn rolled her eyes. “If you haven’t noticed, the radio is dominated by guys right now. It needs more girls like us.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” I was cautious with my response.
“The girl side of the story. That’s what’s not being written right now, and it’s definitely not getting played on the radio.” Quinn sounded impassioned.
“Oh, ok.”
“I think what Quinn is trying to say is that Blue Steel is trying to make a push to bring the female demographic back into play. We can’t put that all on her shoulders. She needs help, and your songs seem like the starting ground to bring someone else in who can write about what girls want to hear without pushing away the male fan base. Our research team has some great numbers on the market trends.” He pointed to the charts on display in front of him.
I had never thought about my songs as girly or female-centered. They were the words that hit me in the shower or when I was working behind the cash register. They were just my words. My feelings. There was never an intention to reach a demographic. It was always only about the lyrics.
Brandon continued. “What do you think about you and Quinn teaming up to give Blue Steel this edge? Really push the girl power or whatever you want to call it?”
“We’re not calling it girl power, Brandon.” Quinn giggled. “But seriously, Chelsea. I think you and I are coming from the same place. We could do this. Give the guys a run for their money.” She winked.
I nodded, still confused. “Sure, absolutely. Sounds great.” I had a sinking feeling that I was swimming in waters that were way over my head. I knew nothing about numbers, fan reach, or radio stats. This was supposed to be about the lyrics.
Twenty minutes later, we had agreed on a production start date. Quinn insisted I should be there when she recorded the first track. I would have to stay in the Austin area for at least a month, longer if the songs took off.
My dad and I had discussed the logistics of moving before I left for Texas. I knew it was a likely outcome of my contract. But I hadn’t brought the subject up with Ben. I had decided on the ferry that I would only commit to a four-day trip. Just forty-eight hours ago we were broken up. We needed time before we talked about what should happen next.
I slipped into the backseat as Bud held the door open for me. I was glad the drive to the ranch was a long one. I had more to think about now than ever before.