Caroline

Tuesday morning, I called Marcus at IM Records. It’s a brief call and he let me know he wants to meet me. I told him that Ethan wasn’t here, but he assured me that it was fine if it were just he and I that met today. Luckily, I have the day off, since it’s short notice.

With shaky hands, I press the nine button and ride up the elevator in the IM Records building. I wipe my palms down my dress, attempting to rid them of dampness. With a ding, the door opens and I turn left toward Marcus Campbell’s office.

Pulling open the door, I set my shoulders back and take a shuddering breath and walk toward the receptionist’s silver expanse of a desk. The entire office has a modern contemporary feel, almost to the point of industrial. There’re steel surfaces and metal fixtures throughout the space and exposed pipes and ducts above, such raw elements you’d think would make the office uninviting, but instead it’s got a chic and modern feel.

“Can I help you?” the brunette with a pixie cut sitting behind the desk asks.

“Yes, I’ve got a twelve o’clock appointment to see Mr. Campbell. My name is Caroline Carter.”

She points toward the two black leather couches. “You can have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” I say and take a seat, crossing my legs at the ankle.

Checking my watch, I am ten minutes early. It’s too much time to sit here with my nervous energy. Part of me wants to stand and pace, but I’m not sure what pixie cut would think of that, so instead my foot bounces up and down and I focus on my breathing. It’s only a meeting, but it could be a really big deal for us. Our lives could change for the better.

A smirk builds across my lips when I think about calling Ethan to tell him that Marcus wants us to sign a contract with him and start recording an album. What a glorious day it’ll be when we sing our first show together.

“Ms. Carter, come on back.” Standing before me is Marcus Campbell. Taller than I remember, he’s lean and has short dark hair with a smattering of white throughout, giving him a distinguished look. He’s quite handsome.

My heart flutters as I stand and my knees get weak. I take a calming breath and give my hand to him. “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Campbell.”

His grip is firm as he shakes my hand. “You’re quite welcome. Follow me down the hall.”

We walk in silence down a long hallway and I focus on Mr. Campbell’s cool and confident gait, giving him a self-assured air that I try and mimic.

He closes the door behind me and gives me a once-over. His eyes are a sharp green and the heat of his appraisal warms my cheeks. I’m wearing a black dress that hits just above the knee. It’s conservative, but has embellishments along the neckline that give it personality without being overly showy. I borrowed it from Rachel, who wears it when she substitute teaches.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” He points to the black leather chair opposite his chrome desk.

Doing as he asks, I sit down, knees together with my hands resting on my lap, my heart racing at an abnormally high rate.

“I’m glad you could make it in today. You impressed me with your performance at the Freemont.” He leans against his desk, standing close to me, arms crossed over his chest.

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell. I appreciate that. Ethan and I wrote the songs we played. We write all of our own music. It’s our passion.” I glow from the inside with pride.

“Please, call me Marcus. How long have you been playing the guitar and singing?”

“As long as I can remember. My dad played and he taught me at a young age.” A pang of sadness hits me in the chest at the mention of my father, but I push it down. He’d be so proud of me. “Ethan and I started a band our junior year of high school and we played together for nearly seven years. Then I moved to Nashville to see if there were any opportunities here to further my career.”

Nodding, he pulls himself up to his full height and walks around the desk to sit in his chair. He leans back in a relaxed position. It’s as if I can breathe easier without having him hover so close to me. “You made a good choice coming here. I’d like to offer you a chance to come sing for the team.”

A swarm of butterflies take flight in my belly. “When?”

“On Thursday at two. Can you be there?”

“Oh my goodness. Yes. I can be, but I’m not sure if Ethan can make it. I will call him after the...”

He cuts me off. “I don’t think you understand. I’m asking you to come. Alone.”

Realization slaps me across the face. I don’t want to do this without Ethan, but what do I say? I know in my heart I’d be a fool to turn this down. I manage a weak smile. “We are better as a duet. I know your team will love us together.”

He runs a hand through his short salt and pepper hair. “I’m asking you to come meet the team. We aren’t looking for duets at the moment. If it doesn’t work for you, I’ll have to pass.”

“No. I’ll be there on Thursday.” I paint a smile on my face as I stand to leave the office before I cry or say something that will kill my opportunity.

“Great.” He walks up to me and opens the door. His hand finds my back as I leave. I don’t flinch away, but I also don’t like the advance.

“Goodbye now.” I hurry away down the hall.

“Call if you have questions.”

I don’t look back.

My hands shake on the steering wheel and sobs wrack my body the entire twenty-minute ride home. At one point, I have to pull over and settle down so I can safely make it home. How am I going to tell Ethan that Marcus Campbell wants me to play for the team but not him, too?

Everything has been going so well between us, I don’t want to create a wedge now. Would he understand? We’re still so new, could this change the way he feels about me? It’s pointless to speculate; I have to tell him.

My sister is waiting for me when I get back to our apartment. “Well, how did it go?”

Taking a seat, I slump onto the couch with my purse still over my shoulder. “He wants me to come sing for the team on Thursday.”

She gives my arm a playful smack. “No way. Then why do you look sad and disappointed?”

“Because they want me. Not Ethan,” I say, my tone flat.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I don’t know what to say to him. We were so excited for the chance. I’ve got to call him, but I don’t want to let him down.” Tears sting at the back of my eyes, but I push them down.

“Won’t he understand?”

I wish I knew. “That’s the thing. He hates his job so much and this opportunity would’ve given him the perfect out.”

“That sucks. Why don’t you call Mrs. Armstrong? I bet she’ll have good advice for you.”

“I think I’ll do that now, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’m curious to hear what she says, too.”

Digging through my purse, I unearth my phone and dial in her number and click the speaker function. She picks up on the third ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. Carter?”

The sound of her voice comforts me almost immediately. “Hi, Mrs. Armstrong. First of all, thank you so much for the opportunity at the Freemont. Ethan and I had a blast.”

“That’s good to hear. It wasn’t a problem at all. Just one little phone call.”

“We ended up getting a card from Marcus Campbell from IM Records and I met with him today,” I tell her.

“It sounds fabulous, so why do you sound less than enthused?” I can see her now with a quizzical curve to her brow.

The last thing I want to do is sound ungrateful or pouty, but it’s hard to be one hundred percent excited when Ethan’s being excluded. “I’m sorry if I don’t sound excited, I am. It’s just…”

“What is it?”

“Mr. Campbell wants me. Not Ethan. I’m a little disappointed about it because Ethan had his hopes up. Remember how we talked about him not liking his job? This could’ve been a new start for him.”

“How did he take it?”

Massaging my forehead, I cringe because I know she won’t approve of my answer. “Well, he doesn’t know yet.”

“Really.” Her voice goes up in pitch. “Why not?”

Oh, dear. I hate the thought of telling her that I’ve been putting off calling him because I’m a coward. “It’s because I’d been hoping to call him with good news and since it isn’t, I’m afraid to hurt him. In fact, I came right home after the meeting, told Rachel, and called you. He’s next on the list.” Even though my stomach sinks to the floor at the thought of calling him.

A heavy sigh comes through the phone. “Caroline, he’s a big boy. He’s going to be fine. Sure, he might be disappointed, but in the end he’ll be happy for you. That boy cares for you a great deal. When you get off the phone with me, call him. Okay?”

“I will,” I say, my voice just above a whisper.

“Good. Now don’t go thinking about turning down a once in a lifetime opportunity because you think you’re going to be upsetting anyone. You’re not. This is your dream, right?”

“Yes.” Playing the guitar and piano as a kid with my dad, I always thought I’d sing on big stages and have fans that loved my music. Could my dream really become a reality?

“Exactly. Now if you need any advice or help, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong.”

“Any time. Now go call Ethan.” She doesn’t wait for a reply and ends the call.

“You going to call him now?” Rachel asks.

Standing up, I pace back and forth in our tiny living room. “Not right now, but I will.”

* * *

Two days later, I’m in a sound room at IM Studios singing for a team of five people.

Thank goodness, I’m wearing a white dress. It highlights my style, flowy and bohemian, and hides my unease. Cold sweat seems to be seeping out of every pore and my limbs are tingling. I can’t recall a moment in time where I’ve been more nervous.

But I’m prepared.

I picked my song and I’ve rehearsed it over and over again until Rachel had to leave the apartment she was so sick of hearing me. I sang it in front of the mirror and recorded myself so I could work out the kinks. It’s an old song about living in the moment and it shows my vocal range better than any other.

“Ms. Carter, whenever you’re ready, you can get started,” an older gentleman sitting next to Mr. Campbell says. They all introduced themselves to me when I came in, but the information went in one ear and out the other.

Clearing my throat and rubbing my damp hands down my dress, I ease myself closer to the mic.

The first words that flow out of me are soft and smooth, but I can hear a slight shaky tone as well. Damn nerves.

Instead of stopping to regroup, a vivid picture of my father coaching me through harder songs comes to mind. His handsome face is right in front of me. ‘You’ve got it. Keep going. No quitting, kid.’

A high note rolls off my tongue like I was born to sing it. I belt out how I’m living in the moment and not holding back, and the sound is pure and open. I’m leaving it all here.

Memories of singing this song with Ethan cascade through my mind. I wrote it right after we started the band. I was too afraid to share it with the group until I went over it with Ethan and we worked through it. He played his guitar while I sang and he’d made lyric recommendations that complemented and mirrored what I wanted to portray.

I close my eyes as a cleansing peace sinks into my soul, as if Ethan and my dad are both with me in the room, rooting me on. Singing the last notes, I ease my eyes open. The only woman in the room, sitting at the end of the table, has her mouth open in the shape of an O.

Mr. Campbell starts to clap, a light airy sound filling the otherwise quiet space. “Excellent job. We’re going to have you go wait in the reception area and we’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay,” I say as I make my way out of the room.

It’s the longest couple of minutes of my life. My head messed with me the entire time. What if they didn’t like me? What if they thought the song choice was horrible? What if they tell me to quit singing all together, that I don’t have talent?

Walking down the hallway, I stop in the restroom and splash cold water on my face and neck. I dab a paper towel on my cheeks and forehead. It does cool me down and take some of the edge off my anxiety.

Back in reception, Mr. Campbell is waiting for me. “Thought you went home.” He chuckles at his joke.

It wasn’t funny.

“No, I just needed the ladies’ room.”

“Well, we’re ready for you. Come in.”

Following him, he points at a seat across from the table of five. I sit down, cross my legs, and focus on keeping my breathing even.

The woman says, “We won’t keep you in suspense any longer. We talked it over and we’d like to offer you a contract.”

My mouth becomes cotton ball dry. “Really?”

“Yes,” Mr. Campbell says. “We’ll be drawing you up a contract and have it to you in the next week.”

“I don’t normally sing solo. I used to have a band and I sing with a man. We’re a duet,” I say, my voice pleading.

“We think we can market you, Ms. Carter. Not a duet. Is that going to be a problem?” the older man next to Marcus asks, tapping his long finger against the table.

The room sounds funny, as if I’m under water. “No,” I say, but it’s muffled.

“Do you have any questions for us?” the woman asks. She’s wearing a pleasant smile.

“Not right now,” I say the words, but I can’t hear them.

They all stand, so I do the same. “Great. We’ll be in touch soon. Call us in the meantime if you need anything.”

I shake hands with all of them and walk out the door.

Getting in the car, I turn it on and crank the radio. I hear it loud and clear.