Page 41 of She's My Kind Of Rain

I look down toward the screen as I pull it from my pocket and notice it’s a number I don’t have programmed into my contacts. For a moment, I consider letting the call go to voicemail, but the uncomfortable look on Rhett’s face reflects exactly how I feel. Flipping my phone open, I answer.

“Hello?” I ask, not sure who I’ll find at the other end of the line.

“Hi, Sawyer, it’s Blake Montgomery. I’m calling because I saw your file cross my desk from one of my A&R Reps. Looks as if we have a scheduled meeting coming up, and normally I don’t handle these calls myself, except I find your folder rather interesting. Seems here you have no previous experience, yet you have been invited to play at The Westmore? Is that correct?”

I can feel my pulse quicken. Blake Montgomery is on the phone with me.Me. I swallow back the anxiety writhing in my chest, and manage to respond, “Uh, yes, sir. That is correct.”

“Are you aware of the rarity of that?” He pauses for a quick second. “You must be, because of their reputation here in Nashville.”

“Yes, sir, I’m—I just recently received the invitation to perform on July twenty-fourth. Rather close to the card I received from Dai—I mean, Miss Holloway.” I run my fingers through my hair, worried I just made a rather large mistake,hoping that he didn’t catch the casual way I was about to say Daisy’s name instead of addressing her professionally.

A soft huff releases on the other end of the line, and I know I didn’t recover the way I had hoped for, but much to my surprise, he says nothing about Daisy and I. Oh God, did I just screw everything up?

“I like to see an artist in their element, so I will be seeing you at The Westmore, instead of having you come in. We will keep the scheduled interview date as is and explain how everything works if we decide to move forward. Have a nice day and good luck.”

It doesn’t take a genius to notice his shift in tone. Well, damn. Now I’m not only worried about how this relationship could affect me and my music career, but also how what I just did might affect Daisy.

28

DAISY - JULY 24, 2004

I can’t believehow fast the summer has flown by and looking back on it all, I never would have guessed that so much joy could have returned to my heart after all the times I felt so helpless. Moving here and meeting Sawyer, was just what my heart needed. Everything he does is so intentional—from picking me bouquets of wildflowers and singing me songs while he plays guitar, to taking me on more impromptu picnics than I ever thought possible. I’ve lost count of all the little dates we have been on, but every moment shared with him is better than the last. At this point, it’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in my life, nor do I want to. He keeps me sane, he makes me happy, and more than that, he makes my heart sing.

Tonight he gets to perform for Blake. I’m not sure if I’m more nervous for him or myself. I’m confident in my ability to do my job, and I’m more than confident in Sawyer’s ability to sing, but what I’m not confident in is that my face won’t give away that I’m madly in love with the client I will be pitching to my boss.

I look at the clothes in my closet and settle on a plain scoop neck t-shirt with ruched shoulder sleeves and plaid dress pants before sliding on a pair of ballet flats and deciding to straighten my hair and pin my bangs in a poof.

Keeping my makeup simple, I douse myself in raspberry vanilla body spray—at the very least, I will smell good as I sweat bullets, trying to impress my boss while simultaneously lying to him. I exhale, hoping that my nerves leave with it, but unfortunately the tension is just replaced with more. Sawyer and I still haven’t talked about exactly what will happen if Blake finds out about our relationship. I know we should, and every time I see him and fail to bring it up I want to kick myself for letting my fear of losing him get the better of me, but I just can’t seem to force the words out. It’s like, I’m terrified that the minute I bring this up, this perfect façade will come shattering down and any hope I have for our newfound relationship will go up in smoke.

I call a taxi to take me to The Westmore and decide it’s best if I show up early so that I don’t have to approach Blake, but rather be approached by him.

Walking through the front doors of the bar, I notify the bouncer of the specifics for tonight and I’m directed to an exclusive location to the left of the stage. Red ropes hang on golden posts, separating a number of small oak tables from the crowd that often gathers nearby. Circling around the ropes, I walk over to the table nearest the stage and take a seat, relieved to see that I have arrived earlier than Blake, but anxious because I don’t have the comfort of sitting near Nancy who is a consistent comedic relief, or having Kaylee to talk me out of my head.

I’m seated only a short while, and then check my phone to see if Sawyer said anything after I wished him luck—nothing. A smooth-toned voice comes from above, and I put my phone immediately back in the handbag I had grabbed on my way out my door.

“Daisy, it’s nice to see you.” In front of me stands Telluride’s one and only Blake Montgomery. I begin to rise from my seat, reaching out my hand to shake his, but he motions for me to remain seated while he chuckles, “Oh, that’s not necessary.”

His light-hearted tone seems to humanize him, making him much less cold than I think most people believe he is, but it still doesn’t ease my worry of ruining this opportunity for Sawyer or myself.

He takes a seat to my right and a bartender places his drink down on the table in tandem. His lips form into a smirk. “I wonder what it says about me that I don’t even have to order anymore. Given that I’m not a regular, that makes me rather predictable, I presume.”

I smile. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be him, and yet he still maintains a rather casual air about himself with such a sought after reputation.

“So, how has Telluride been treating you? According to team memos, you have now scouted two potential artists. If they both fit our standards, that is rather impressive in such a short time.”

I feel like I’m in a dream. Just the word ‘our’alone seems impossible to be used in regards to myself and such a large label. It’s hard not to get in my head about all of this, but I do my best to remind myself that we’re all working toward a common goal, and even though I find the man to be intimidating and even harder to read, he’s still just a person at the end of the day—or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

“Yes, sir. I’m rather excited for you to hear them both.” I’m actively trying not to linger on anything too long and keep my chatter to a minimum so that I don’t come off as unprofessional, even though I would love nothing more than to pick his brain for all of the things he’s learned and seen being in this career for so long.

“I’m rather interested in your method. A few of my more seasoned reps have voiced that they think the over-saturation of this town has prevented them from finding many new stars and have since shifted to traveling elsewhere, yet you have deemed it possible in only a few short months.”

His praise feels overwhelming, and yet, at the same time, he speaks so calmly I can’t gauge if he’s excited or testing me. I have done my best to not steer away from a challenge this far in Nashville, so I decide to talk-the-talk rather than come across too quaint.

“We had a team meeting about using new and inventive ways to find artists. Friendspace has produced many new stars in other genres. The issue with it is that on top of being a good singer, they also have to maintain a profile that others find just as appealing.” His expression shifts to a deeper intrigue, his eyes remaining locked on me as I speak. “I spent time looking through a plethora of accounts, many of which maintained a rather large list of friends, but also a lack of professionalism. We may represent the singers, but they also represent us as a brand, so I found it crucial to find a singer that did not have any photos that could be deemed problematic to Telluride, on top of maintaining something that felt special…something that felt different. That is always my goal.”

He doesn’t confess anything, but if I were to guess, he seems rather impressed by the look in his eyes. Unlike my worry of outing my relationship, I’m confident in what I’m talking about and prefer to prove myself worthy of my position, rather than have my focus elsewhere.

“I found Sage Summers’ page after some extensive searching,” I say, trying to keep my focus on the other singer and not Sawyer. “I know people are looking for talent with a large fan base, but I felt that those artists most likely have already been approached.”

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